Dream big

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Dreams, butterflies in the azure sky. Floating, lilting, playing in the soft downy clouds. Beautiful bright colors gleaming on their backs in the morning sun's rays. Nothing can reach them but a child on wings. Children are their caretakers, treating their fragile wings with gentle care and love.

Adults stay to the hard, cold ground to which they cling. They're really grown up caretakers that have stopped using their wings and grasped 'reality' tightly in their fists. Fear guides them now.

One such grownup child sits. She is small and few take notice of her. Her wings are broken. Her's is a lucky story however. She can still see the butterflies and her own wings. Most grownup children forget to look for either of them anymore.

Everyday she stares with hope and yearning at the beautiful orange butterfly dancing above her little spot on the ground. So close and yet so very far away. Her eyes shining and sparkling she beckons her desired treasure near. But it will not do. Dreams cannot get that close to the ground or they will die. And so each sunset ends with tears of sadness.

A little blond child stops and watches her reaching skyward with curiosity and compassion on his little smudged face. Gallantly, he offers his wings to her. Her excitement is beyond belief. She doesn't even notice his tattered clothes and matted hair.

She leaps into the blue. Her day in the sky is magical. She dances around clouds and amidst oceans of dreams and laughter. Her special friend is the little orange butterfly perched on her slight shoulder. Even as midnight colors and bright twinkling fairies blanket the sky, she wants to stay but the nice little boy must be missing his wings. She drifts down on fluttering wings to where he sits. His face is beloved to her now and always will be. With tears in her eyes she carefully hands the precious wings back to her savior. He kindly accepts.

He hands her wings to her. They are no longer broken. He has fixed them just for her. She wraps her arms around him in the best hug she has ever given. A small movement catches her eye. The little orange butterfly is falling to the ground from her shoulder.



Sunday, August 28, 2011

My bag is packed. Selected and designed to get me to my journey's end.  I open the door. The first step is always the hardest, the leaving part. But yet not the hardest. The excitement for adventure in me makes it easy. I step onto the road to test my true endurance.

The road is long. I've known it for some time. Prepared in every way possible. But what awaits me, is beyond my comprehension. I've only heard stories and fairy tales of the place at the end of this road. I must get there. The desire in my heart and the strength in my soul begs me to reach out for it. Despite the promised dangers that lay in wait and the strain on my mortal body, I travel.

Thirsting and starving. Stumbling, weary, and travel worn. I stop. Only for a time. I am alone on the road. I find a stream heading the same direction I am. The cool water refreshes me and I eat my bread to strengthen me. The night is coming.

Much must be done to prepare myself for the long night. Shelter is thrown up and a fire lights a small circumference around me. I sleep for a time.

Noises coming from the dark. I've been taught to stay in the light. The creatures of the night don't bother with fire and its company. But sleep is hard to come by with the fear and anticipation of what lay beyond my eyes' seeing. The fear gathers inside me and I doubt the sun's rising. But just the slightest glimmer on the eastern horizon sparks hope in my heart.

The road stumbles me. My small torch only shows me so far ahead. Many times I climb huge obstacles and other times I walk sluggish through dense forest. But always my mind remembers where I'm going. And who will be there waiting.

I've reached the mountain. My destination lies beyond. With determination I reach up and take hold. My load weighs me down at times but it is essential for me to keep it close. Climbing requires all my strength and fortitude. Sometimes I run out. But Someone's hands push me forward or lift me up when I get caught.

Right now I must struggle on. The hardest part of my journey is stretched up before me. I have come a long way. But more is required if I am to reach this place. My heart yearns for it. Although my body is weak, strength will come.

Nothing can stop me but myself.


Book covers and what's inside

Sunday, August 21, 2011

The Master Librarian always says, "Never judge a book by its cover." The hard part is there are so many attractive covers. They look so enticing and exciting. Most of the other book covers are mediocre and thus just beyond my notice. Not that I judge them for it. Just ignore them. A few grab my attention because of their atrocious looking covers. I definitely judge those and I think those are the ones He's talking about. But there can't be much to love inside their covers when they look like that.

I peruse the selection of new books before me. I sort them according to their title and on a smaller level their state of attractiveness. Humming as I finish my job there in the library, the Master Librarian walks up behind me and watches my work silently. I hardly ever see Him even though He's always there.

My sorting is getting more liberal. His presence somehow makes my eyes see differently. Some books look precious to me despite the raggedy appearance. I feel his attention move to the previously sorted books. I can feel the prickle of guilt start inside my gut.

"Never judge a book by its cover, Little One." My cheeks burn as I go back through the piles and rearrange their order. I must see what is inside them before I can decide their place in the library. Some of the prettier ones have horrible things inside them. I'm horrified! Many of the uglier ones are so beautiful on the inside. Some of them I sit in wonder for hours staring at what I see inside them. A quiet nagging starts in the back of my brain.

One book sits in the back corner of the library. I do my very best to never touch it. Or dust it. Or come near it. That book has been there for a long time. I've never liked the look of it. It always made me mad to look at it. Sometimes I couldn't understand why the Master Librarian would make these kinds of books.

I look to His face. He knows where my thoughts have wandered. Suddenly I know that He took great care to put that book together and it hurts him when I avoid that book so much. I hang my head in shame.

Once alone again, I wander over. The book is dusted over and just as hideous to me as ever.

I gingerly pick it up. The book seems eager to open up to me. What an odd sensation to get from a book. I open the once repulsive cover. Wonder and amazement flood my entire being. Why hadn't I opened it before? Sadness replaces my feelings of awe. How lonely it must've been because of my aversion.

It took me a long time to see and it will take me even longer to learn to "Never judge a book by its cover."

An age old phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover.' Repetition usually denotes a valued lesson...it always falls on deaf ears. Learning often involves mistakes in retrospect. But those are the hardest lessons to learn. Regret is often their companion. But they stick longer.

Snap judgments can last a lifetime. And thankfully the Lord showed me the truth. All the bad thoughts, the misconceptions meant nothing to me. I was shown the soul of someone I had deemed unworthy of my love and compassion. But that was the biggest lie I told myself. They needed that part of me more than anything else I could've given. I realize all the little mistakes through the many years I've known them that had I saved judgment for later I might've made their journey a little lighter, a little happier.

To have a friend in someone who needs a friend so badly, is probably the most fulfilling role a person can fill. Hopefully I'm big enough to fill it this time.



Monday, August 15, 2011

Euphoria. Flying, soaring, tumbling. Other waves crash all around me. But I can fly! I feel the air beneath me as I surge forward. I can almost touch the sky with his billowing clouds and huge blue eyes. Laughing and giggling I swerve away from his tickling fingers.

Dolphins leap and splash all around me as they play. They are a gift from my mother. She sends all sorts of creatures to her little ones. We might get lonely this far away from her.

I come close to my sister waves. We collide and bounce all around each other. Together we build higher and faster. Nothing stands in our way. Ships avoid us. Sea creatures join us.

Oh the power of our unity!

Surging forward, the elation drives me to the heights beyond the clouds. With those around me I feel secure and profoundly strong. I can't help but beam my happiness at the sun sitting up in his universal realm where all the lights play and dance. Sometimes they come and join in our frivolity down on the earth. Alighting on our wings and floating to secret places.

Cliffs. Our most challenging obstacle. At most our force combined can chip off small slivers. Pounding the hard surface of the earth is a grueling task. She is unyielding and stubborn. It is hard on all of us. But it must be done. It is what is required of us. We push and strain against her solid barrier. Some of my brothers and sisters can't make it. Our ranks never dwindle.

Some pull back for a time...

but the rest of us push forward even harder.


Monsters, beasts and the like

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

I listen carefully as I wait for them. They always come when it's the darkest. When I can't see them, only then will they come. The thud of my heart drowns out their coming, but I can feel them all around me. I can feel their empty souls. Ugly and lacking in light.

I try to elude them but the darkness is theirs. I kick and punch with all my might but nothing I do seems to faze them. My strength is being spread too thin. Too many.

Slowly they infiltrate the small space inside me. I scream but no sound comes out. The more space they take up...the harder it is to push them back out. They are cold and spiky. Prickly. My body crunches into a tiny ball, trying to squeeze them out. But somehow they've found more space to occupy. They reach into the parts of me that are weak and try to break anything they can.

Weakness. I can feel it piling up. How easily they found it all. How abundant it has become. There is no hope within me. It must come from outside. Anything.

Eternity drags by as the skirmish continues. Repetitive fears and worries flung around the room. Good always prevails...my time is coming...

Light. The Sun.


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