Her Broken wing

I sat in my own world, staring–staring out the window into my fantasy world. I am sure people knew. They could see it on my face. Remembering back to the look given by a particular lady as I sat on a park bench, it was worse than pity. She was experiencing a homeless man for the first time. She did not want to look; the repulsion of what she saw was too disturbing. But by the second look, third look, she began to caress a sense of abhorrence.  “Trash”–that is what she was envisioning. And soon, she scuffled off, all-too-quickly. Something of him reminded her –of her.

Now fast forward back to my own world, I gazed from the window, and I get that same look—except this time it consisted of loved ones and friends, not the lady on the street long ago. That look of disgust ran through me, reminding me of what I had become, homeless in a sense. I had fallen off my pink cloud of perfection, admiration and my sense of worth had been shattered.  Oh, friends stopped and lingered but not for long, I believe there was something within my own deep pain that exuded through my pores frightening people away.

Like the homeless man, I had family and friends throw a few coins at me. But it was the ones that brought me food (spiritual type), looked me in the eyes and said, “I love you” without ever opening their mouth, that gave me hope. The folks that reminded me I was a valuable human being inspired my life with a blind faith. And day after day, God reminded me through miracles in ordinary living of His tremendous love—agape love, a love that supersedes all love.

God had (and continues to do so) tended my worn-out, world-torn soul.  And in my deepest moment, Christ walked in, dressed in my ordinary moments to orchestrate the heavens to my every breath.

My codependent behavior had led me into an insatiable appetite to suppress all emotions good or bad, which now will become my badge of honor (Recovering Addict). Nonetheless, through my blind faith, I proudly display my emblem.

With my dependency to drugs, I could fly… that is until one day, the sky disappeared. I fell from my Pink Cloud (self-admiration).  Soon, I was grounded. My wings were clipped.

And only as of a few days ago can I say, I can fly…I just have to keep flapping (staying in tune with the Word of God)…

For now the sky …is in my horizon…but the view is different.

As I fly, I don’t know where I am going, but I know where I have been…and that is all I need.

Faith and Hope.

The Daughter of the King

I haven’t been able to figure out why I feel a certain way lately. You ever have a disconcerting undercurrent that just keeps you on edge. It feels kind of like you need to say something but forgot what it was. You can’t let it go because it’s right there–always. I have been feeling this way for some time. But praises to God, I figured it out today. It’s like finding an itch and scratching the daylights out of it…. Ahhh…

OK, maybe not quite that dramatic.

I tried to remember when it all started. I recollect it starting after I left work  (so abruptly and painfully) so that has been some time ago. I  felt like I had unfinished business.

What was it?

I remembered back to when I was a child (why do we always go back to the childhood stuff—amazing any of us made it out alive)…my mom opened the door and there I stood, dripping in blood — I had been beaten up. “Neighborhood boy” … I have a mouth now and I had a mouth back then. Apparently, he did not like being called a “sissy girl.” Never challenge the masculinity of the male species at any age. I think he was like ten at the time. I told my mom to go beat him up. I was hysterically trying to explain what happened. I might as well have said Aliens landed and replaced my brain. It wasn’t working. To my shock and dismay, she beat spanked the ever-living-bajezee’s out of me for getting in a fight. This would be the first of many of my heart wounding moments as I call them.

My heart eventually went into a long period of cardiac arrest of the spiritual kind. It would take a miracle to  bring it back to life.

By the grace of God, I grew into a young adult. I married. As you would expect, I married someone to fix the tribulations in my life (or so I thought). I did not know any better or any other life so I endured the pattern I had been accustomed to.

The message then…the message now

They did not fight for me…

Something must be terribly wrong with me. Horribly wrong. Another kick to my already ceased heart beat.

And then my eyes saw and ears heard…

The thunder roll, lightening split the darkened skies and sleeping lions roar, as Jesus stood there at the door in His bloodied garment full of sin. His Father cried as His Son said…“I fought for them, Dad”

And my ceased heart began to beat… through CPR (Christ Partakes of my Ransom)

His Dad said, “Now bring them Home, Son.”

His Daughter…