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.

Our Safe Place

Wrap me in your sweet gaze.
Hold me close with alluring eyes.
Entrance me with prolonged ease.
Comfort given between our hearts.

Fill me with your words of love.
Show me the depth of your heart.
My soul is fettered to yours.
A connection never depleted.

Let my song soothe and embrace,
Our feeble worries turned to strength.
Let my music blot and abolish,
Our pain escaped, Our joy tarry.

You are the dream of my youth.
You are the flourishing emotions,
Treasured and bubbling from my core.
You are my fledgling contentment.

I will wrap you in my sweet gaze.
I will hold you with alluring eyes.
Ours is a safe place to cherish,
To shout, to weep, to love.

Letting Go, Grabbing Hold

Thursday I cleaned house. I accepted the painful job of erasing old life lines, unhealthy anchors, and with every sweep of my hand, brushing away remnants of old dependencies, my heart beat a little bit faster. I felt God sitting next to me, encouraging me to take each step. I hesitated a few times, wanting to hold onto those soothing places, those reassuring moments, but God whispered to me, "Go on. You can do this."

I was surprised at the lack of panic I felt when I was done. There were a few tears, a visibly shaken hand. For all the years I had held on to these unhealthy ways of coping, letting go of them now wasn't as hard as I had thought it would be. I sighed deeply, got out my abnormal psychology school book, and focused my energy elsewhere. I was ok. I was successful. Job done.

Later that night while watching the movie SIGNS I felt the tremors start. I felt the anxiety pulsing through my arms and legs. My breathing quickened, my heart pounded, and nausea squeezed at my guts. I looked around wondering where this was coming from. My mind raced, picking up peices of my life as suggestions of the cause. The unknown future looming? The new life changes and responsibilities coming? Old hurts defending or old scripts rehearsing?

"I'm not good enough for these beautiful things God is bringing into my life. I'm gonna mess this up. I'm gonna make decisions that will cripple people I love. God can't mean for me to have these new and incredible blessings. This is me taking whatever I want. This is me selfishly running ahead of His plan. This is my foolishness, my overly emotional heart, not discerning truth, not using wisdom. I am making terrible mistakes in every direction."

Tears rushed down my face as I sat in the middle of my panic. My body shook with the pain of nerves exposed, raw and aching doubts. I wanted to believe in Ephesians 2:10...that I was God's "workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God has prepared in advance for us to do." I desperately wanted to hold on to the hope that God was answering years of longing, that He was taking my pain and using it for good. But in that moment, I felt like a six year old girl, afraid to speak the questions, unable to express the fear, trembling in her insecurities.

There was no Ativan to run to, no ease to grab. Instead, I held tight to trust and love, and allowed the panic to race. I wanted to hide in sleep. I wanted to run, lock myself in my room alone. I wanted to let shame win, swallow me up and be done with it. But even more, I wanted to be seen, known, accepted, exposed, held, loved.

Then the realization exploded in my mind: Just that morning, I had let go of a source of great comfort, a taste of desperately needed importance, an addiction of missing attention. I was shaking from the act of releasing these false fulfillments, shivering with the emptiness of my bleeding heart. It was a pretend world. It was a fake pleasure. But it was what I had held on to for years alone.

That morning my heart's desire was to follow my Lord's leading, open myself to his amazing future plan, let go of the past and grab on to the real and beautiful things in my present. I wasn't prepared to face the panicked feeling of loss, the terror of missing safety, of being set afloat in unknown, wild seas. The sobs escaping proclaimed the desperation in knowing that I had nothing more to grasp without risks, nothing more to soothe me without cost. I was opening myself to the forward motion God had in mind for me, but I was also facing the destruction and loss of my broken shelter of the past.

The trembling didn't stop with the admission. It increased. I felt foolish in my insistence to grow. I felt angry at my determination to erase. I felt completely panicked with the inability to go back and undo it all. I cried out to my God in frustration and anger for leading me in a direction that was healthy yes, but that was ripping open needs and fears I desperately did not want to face. What would happen now? Where would I hide? Where would I comfort myself?

"You don't need to hide anymore, Jenny. I have better, abundantly better things in store for you. I will heal this. I will hold you through the panic and I will bring you to the other side. I will restore lost years and lavish my grace on your tender heart. You don't need distractions or tastes of love. I will fill your cup to overflowing with pure and beautiful gifts of authentic love. I will never leave your side. Nothing can separate our hearts. You are mine. I have called you by name, My Dear Jenny. Let me heal this. Hide in my everlasting arms. Lean on my strength, my hope. Let me be your refuge, a strong tower to hide within. Your weeping may endure for this night, but Jenny, I will bring you joy in the morning..."

I fell asleep restless and raw, lying in the palm of His hand. I tossed and turned throughout the night fighting off the darkness that threatened with the glory that my Lord surrounded me with. I woke up to the sunrise of His reassurances, His salvation, ready to face the battles with the strong and sure Anchor of my God.

Call Me By Name

All these tumultuous thoughts were making my stomach ache: fears of future choices and the effects on those I loved, present busyness that pulled me in different directions and exhausted me, the loneliness and stress that were eating holes in my stomach, the what if questions about finances and health. Laying on the massage table, receiving my weekly, therapeutic gift of touch, I couldn’t calm my tense body or my aching spirit.
“Just be with me.” I felt Jesus whisper in my soul. His still, small voice gracefully pulled my attention away from my issues and on to Him, the Lover of my soul. “Jenny,” His whisper of my name drew me with instant consolation. I felt my focus being absorbed by His grace, His presence. My breath slowed, my muscles relaxed, and my heart felt joy like nothing else can bring.
Letting go of every stressful image or palpitating fear seemed easier in this moment as my heart was surrounded by God’s desire to love me. His ache to have me by His side, to hold me, to love me. Oh how desperate my heart was to feel such importance! To be wanted by the One who knew every single moment of my past, present, and future. I let this thought permeate through my skin, warming my blood, filling every cell. He wants me. I am His.
No matter how big the problems I was facing seemed, no matter how much change was needed in my attitudes and actions, I heard the insistent reminder to quiet my soul and just be with the One who was in control of everything. In that moment, it wasn’t as important for me to figure out how to change my world or how to expand my influence, as it was to feel God’s comforting arms wrap around me and allow room for His love to assure me of my place in His heart.
His embrace was warm and tender. I felt surrounded by peace in the middle of the raging river of chaos that was my world. I stood soaked in life’s demands, but warmed by the strong chest I leaned on and the solid arms that held me. I felt scripture come alive. It was possible that whatever circumstances I found myself in, past, present, or future, I could quiet my soul and meditate on the joy of His abiding presence. I could heal from life’s pressures in the shadow of His wings, in the tenderness of His embrace. And I could flourish by His works to the place where I could shine His light and embrace others with His beautiful, unconditional love.
The next morning, sitting on the quiet street in front of the school I worked at, I thought about the intimacy of having my name known, being called by name. It’s a simple and yet intimate acknowledgment when you are called by name, when a friend or lover is completely focused on you and your name graces their lips. There’s importance shown, attention drawn. I don’t know how else to explain it. Hearing my name spoken out loud even in the morning coffee shop by the barista who has memorized more than just my order, brings a smile to my face and a sense of being important enough to know, to see. I randomly opened my Bible to the book of Isaiah.
Isaiah 43:1b “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name. You are mine.”
I closed my eyes and remembered the summoning of my name from the day before. Jesus knows my name. My eyes closed, the deep sigh released. He loves me enough to know exactly who I am. The single tear rolled down my cheek. He personally calls me His own.

Flowing Glory

We’re sitting here having these conversations, my little girl and I. My eighteen year old, grown up daughter who absolutely amazes me with her grace, depth, and beauty. We spend an hour looking over her art pieces, diving into the meanings and the stories and the exposure some pieces force on her. I see the tears well in her eyes as she experiences the nakedness of having her work observed, as she imagines a stranger’s eyes perusing what she has poured into her art. I am so proud of the readiness, the willingness in her to step out, to find courage and be seen. I hear her speak of the soulful strokes of her hands on the page and the depth of emotion that was released. She is my precious daughter, the woman I adore, and I am stunned by the capacities of her heart.

The next night we sit at the kitchen table sharing faith. Instead of seeing scripture through the eyes of a strict, condemning God, we talked about the revelation of the past four or five years in seeing through the compassionate eyes of Jesus. I hear the freedom in her voice, the excitement at being able to hear a verse spoken and instantly to pick up on the tone of grace. How habit that used to draw a straight, narrow minded line of disappointment and disgust into the words of Christ, are now abolished, replaced with the flowing glory of love’s tender words in scripture.

She shares her heart with me, entrusting more and more in the solid ties that bind us. I see the tears she’s often tried to hold back, now releasing in the safe place she is starting to trust. I hear her vulnerability being offered to me as equals, she as my little girl who has become this incredible young woman. I hear her wisdom. I feel her compassion. I taste her joy. I witness her honor. And I am blessed beyond all measure by her presence.

I Am With You

You fill me with hope. Every threat of inadequacy is destroyed by your power and love. The beautiful breeze you sent me this morning, simply blew away every “I’m not good enough” thought. You amaze me.

Thank you for clarity, for the knowledge that rings clear and true in the deepest parts of my heart. Thank you for courage, for the strength to be rooted in your power and your everlasting love. Thank you for willingness, for pushing me out the front door, for showing me over and over that every step on the journey is worth it. Thank you for cleansing, for every outpouring of grace that washes over me and heals me. Thank you for freedom, for awareness, and for joy.

Under a thin layer of skin, beats a jubilant heart. I feel it under the palm of my hand laying against my chest. Peaceful rhythm, tender smiles, gentle excitement. You have shown me the sunshine. I adore you.

Never stop teaching me. Never allow me to stand still. No matter how torrential the future storms look, how threatening the risks loom, push me forward into growth. Show me your power. You have built trust in my once crippled heart, and now I am jumping into your arms with surety that you will not only catch me, but that you will look at me with that beautiful, adoring gaze and hold me tighter and more secure than ever dreamed possible.
You fill me with hope.

I wrote this yesterday. Today I am being conquered by doubt. I have issues with being seen as “the bad guy.” Totally admitting that. The impending doom sits like a rock in my gut that I will be seen this way. It is a young emotion that I wonder if it will ever be done with me. Maybe God had me write this yesterday so I could reread it today. I need it today.
“Take My Hand” expresses everything I want to be. I want to love, not injure. I want to reach out, not push away. I want to comfort, not destroy. The little girl in me desperately wants to please. She wants someone to see the big hearted, playful girl. She wants to be known and adored no matter her mistakes. She wants to be valued just for being her. She wants to be loved.
The grown woman says it’s time to take care of myself. She gathers up every bit of courage to do what’s right even when it could hurt others. She struggles to keep hold of the freedom to laugh and to give. She stares at her reflection repeating over and over that she is valued and accepted by herself and by the God who created her.
It is one deep,frustrating conflict!