{day 4} recognizing moments in your story

the alarm sounded entirely too early. stumbling toward the noise, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and silenced mumford serenading her to "awake my soul" - there wasn't much she wanted to experience awake in that moment.

she stretched and looked at her husband. still sleeping. she envied his ability to shut out interruption and groggily stepped out of bed, tripping over her books and journal - evidence of a late-night session with her past. she felt the pull of her heart - the painful tug of memory.

in that moment, the darkness seemed to stretch from outside - reaching into the deepest wounds she kept hidden. she knew the tears were coming before she felt them brimming against her lashes.

i just want to be free, she thought. i just want this darkness to end. 

she got ready like any other day. put on her makeup, kissed her husband's cheek, and smiled at his predictable groan and stretch as his own muscles woke.

their morning routine gave her momentary comfort - until she saw his retreating figure and was left alone with low hum of light crashing against the night-black outside her window. she contemplated journaling - but knew there'd be no words. she glanced for a second toward the culprit laying on her nightstand - the book scripting out her life for her to see, explaining the hurt and pain in a way that forced her to accept.

if there was anything she knew it was this: it's hard to deny the truth when it's in writing.

getting in her car, she fought the lump in her throat and the memories crashing against themselves, fighting for space in her heart and mind and soul. look at me! see me! feel me! they all begged - and the rage would come unwillingly - a reminder that she was broken, needy, and definitely messier than she ever imagined.

she sighed. it was hard for her to see anything good in the day. the drive seemed tedious, her coffee wasn't working, and her heart beat a rhythm of pain and avoidance. she fumbled with her phone and turned on the music in an attempt to drown out the thoughts.

dissonance filled her car and words fell around her, wrapping her in their warmth.

darkness hovering, grasping everything it seems void...empty...absent life, absent dreams. 

she swallowed, knowing the feeling of darkness grasping - touching - pulling everything toward the void.

but.

this wasn't the end of the song, and the music echoed her breathing - picking up speed and volume and what was it...hope?

let there be light.... where there is darkness....let there be light. 

she turned her head toward the east and for a second, didn't understand what she was seeing. she heard His words before she made the connection.

this is for you, My child - let My light pierce your darkness. 

and watching the sun's rays stretch across the sky, she breathed deep of new beginnings and grace and His love. once again, the One who held her close sent her a visible reminder of His protection and healing.

the darkness didn't seem so suffocating anymore.

*photo credit

 

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Posted on October 3, 2011 and filed under finding{and telling}your story.