It's Wednesday again, and I'm joining again with Life:Unmasked to write into the open the things inside.
There has been much silence in me lately. Or perhaps I mean quietness.
I have no adequate words for the events, for the new doing, new feelings, no words at all. And so I am quiet. I can't write down the slow, deep smile that grows on my lips whenever I remember. I can't explain the fluttering in my belly, the longing I find growing in my heart, the wonderment of hearing these words: "You are incredible."
I've been laughing so very much. It bubbles up, uncalled, unexpected, at odd times. The strangest things come to mind; why do I think of Fox in Socks? (Nose hose goes some. Crow's rose grows some.) And I've been tearing up, too. Stopping in the middle of movement to breathe slowly, rolling a memory through my mind and wondering how is it that I have been given this delight?
And I feel myself expanding. Sometimes the expansion hurts as something is torn down, broken, to make way for the new. Suddenly I'm learning quickly, changing quickly, accepting quickly what I've been struggling with for years: I am worthy. I am lovely. I am loved.
Am I beautiful? Someone says I am. Then, when I turn upwards, and ask, God, do you think I'm beautiful? He responds, ever so much, my daughter. And I can hear it now. And listen to it. And begin, more than ever before, to accept it.
Slow, fearful, cautious, rational me is wondering what is happening. Is wondering if most of life is a matter of timing; if most of good or not good is in the timing. Why would I claim dragging one's feet is the best pace through life? Especially when I could take life one full step at a time. Why would I be fearful when I've seen the steadfast love of God that graciously gives more than I can imagine? Why would I be cautious - as if I can protect myself by my own carefulness - when I could be trusting and confident in the Spirit's ability to guide my steps? Why would I be restricted by the rational when I could let my heart speak?
I feel I'm walking half-dizzy, stumbling through an unfamiliar dance. It's exhilarating, confusing, at times very frustrating, and I feel foolish one moment and incredibly happy the next. But I'm dancing! And it is good.
