Flying Free by Crystal Beard

My daughter wrote this peice and as I first read it, I had to slow myself down to take in every syllable carefully, savor every image completely. I saw this immediately as a meditation of sorts, a piece that could take different people to different places... an offering of deep emotions and spirit.
Enjoy...

You’re running as fast as you can. The knee length, soft, cotton white dress trails behind you, as does your long brown hair. Your powerful legs sprint and fly over the ground.
Your feet barely touch the dry dirt, and though they are bare, you feel no pain from rocks or uneven earth.
Tall yellow grass stretches to your waist, and the blades rustle softly as you move through them.
Nothing can catch you, not even the wind.
The sky is impossibly blue, the grass the color of golden honey. A warm, earthy smell fills your nostrils as you move. Each breath you take fills your lungs with crisp, clean air, with sweet, fresh life.
You keep running, you don’t ever want to stop.
The scene changes.
The earth is void of grass, and you are now running on soft, dark brown soil that leaves faint footprints where your feather light feet have trod.
Tall, chocolate colored trees stretch and form a colorful archway around your path. The thick branches are full of autumn colored leaves. Sunlight filters through the branches, illuminating the scarlet, orange, and yellow leaves, looking just like stained glass.
You never tire, your body is light as a cloud, and you keep running through the warm forest. Golden light is ahead. The trees grow thick together, forming a vast wall around the soft path. Reds and golds filter onto your white dress.
A soft, cool breeze soothes your skin as you fly through the trees.
You keep running, you don’t ever want to stop.
You blink, and your feet sink into light, khaki colored sand. An endless blue horizon stands before you. The waves of the dark, deep ocean crash against rising black rocks. Grey clouds cover the vast sky, and a powerful, chilled wind whips your hair and dress around you. Your feet stop and slow, sinking in the cool, dry sand.
You breath in the salty air, but you are not tired. You stare at the water, which stretches as far as you can see. It is quiet, it is loud. You take a deep breath...
You’re running as fast as you can. Tall yellow grass stretches to your waist, and the blades rustle softly as you move through them.
You keep running, you don’t ever want to stop

Starless Moments

Romans 8:28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love the Lord, who are the called according to His purpose.

You, Lord, are tremendous.
I was retelling the story of a painful time in my family, an experience where everyone felt the gauging of falsehoods, the shredding of peace, the disappearance of joy. It was a time where lies stole our joy and where doubts crippled our ability to support and love each other. A five year journey through some of the coldest and stormiest waters we had ever trekked.

I was retelling the terrifying details, the horrific choices, while tears streamed down my face. Trying to put into words pain that is too deep to truly be expressed, I vulnerably shared my own guilt and confusion. It was a family history that none of us were proud of, that all of us wanted to hide or forget. Our children were adversely affected, even those too young to know what was happening. They felt the thickness of pain in the air that they breathed. They took in our family’s story to be integrated as part of their own.

I was retelling the impossible corners that each of us were forced into. The defenses that rose up, the guilt and regret that was swallowed and the ensuing consequences of bitterness both emotionally and physically. There were secrets revealed and devastation at each disclosure. We disappeared in different ways, drinking, working, burying, sleeping. We disappeared nonetheless.

I was retelling what I witnessed, the judgments made, condemnation passed down. I saw “Christians” attack mercilessly and “lost” souls threaten and abuse. Leaders isolated and assaulted broken people, while loved ones cowered and prayed for reconciliation. Betrayal and abandonment spread like disease, weakening faith, dissolving joy. I felt helpless and angry. I searched the faces around me, those that I depended on, those that I believed in, those that I loved, and I saw distortions of guilt, anger, fear, and resignation.

Today, as I was retelling the story, words were whispered into my ear,
“This is where you learned grace.”

How does grace fit into this picture of pain? It wasn’t in examples of love and kindness. There weren’t many moments of compassion or mercy. I witnessed anger spewing from one side of their mouths, while sermons were preached on forgiveness from the other side. Where was grace in the attacks, the accusations, the condemnations passed down?

It was in the arms of my Father.
Grace was in the beauty of his gaze, looking at each of us with love and tenderness, seeing into the deepest parts of the pain that influenced choices and weeping with compassion for our brokenness. Grace was shown to me in the realizations of where I did not want to go, who I did not want to become as I watched with childlike disbelief. I felt grace in God’s hands of protection around my heart, telling me that this wasn’t what He wanted either.

Grace was revealed to me in the middle of black nights. When I couldn’t see ahead past the excruciating weight sitting on my chest, in those starless moments when I couldn’t breathe and escape was hidden, God wrapped me up in His tight embrace and showed me grace. When grief was so large that I felt it swallowing every hope of light, when my legs refused to carry me any further down a road that seemed endless, God whispered to my spirit.

Grace was in the lesson, in the waiting, in the enduring.
When I couldn’t feel God’s presence, grace was in the allowing of experiencing the darkness so that my heart would know the true beauty of the light.
Grace was in the tender teaching of judgments I didn’t want to make, of ugliness I never wanted to be a part of.

Grace was giving room to heartache so that I could understand joy.
Grace was the destruction of one dream to allow for His new vision.
Grace was witnessing anger so that I could offer forgiveness.
Grace was experiencing loss to taste gain.

Grace is sitting here years later, bathed in tears, washed in sorrows, feeling the light of his presence finally breaking through, and knowing that He was right beside me the whole time.