{dark}
Of broken and for the jaded,
For the detoxed and the drunken,
The frayed & the fallen. For the forever furrowed brow.
Darkness is kind.
It is safe. Sanctifying even.
Swaddled secretly in shredded tendons of the heart,
He is nursemaid.
Issued is your stay; punched is your dance card noir.
As time creeps then spins swift, dark manifests and burrows.
The heart bears. The heart holds. The heart halts.
Like the sky, you hold out your arms to manage his monstrosity.
You make room.
He will fit next to your fragmented and tarnished.
There. And there. And there.
He is heavy.
Holy too.
Standing room only, sacred and scary settle.
Ugly and honest battle.
Encapsulated, you succumb to his presence.
The broken. The jaded. The drunken.
Hope is forlorn; a fallacy for the frail.
Yet darkness cannot be defined alone.
Let forth His heavenly master plans.
To know darkness is to be akin to the light.
From blinds dusty closed and sealed,
To the dark corners where the devil deals.
Twinkling and flickering.
Exploding. Past-Present.
Protons engage yielding grace.
Saving energy.
Light.
For you and for me.
The frayed & the fallen, for the forever furrowed brow find their freedom.
Star of wonder.
This earthly walk is full. Of hopes and hurts. Of heavy and hard. Hideaways of unexpected joy and rock bottom handouts of devastation too. Life twists inside itself just when we think we have it all figured out. It's that sweater you put on where you can't figure out which hole is the the neck. And there you squirm. Swallowed. Drowning in wool. Searching and sweating all just the same until finally freedom is found and warmth can ensue. But not without maneuvering the sweater back to its original form while waiting for the sweat beads to subside. From the small of your back. From your neck and brow and your armpits too.
Life is the warmth. The wool. Finding your fit inside the holes.I think that much of God's beauty is concealed by our very own human hurriedness to get on with life quick & clean. It's like we all have one of those big pore pink pancake sponges digging into Revlon's drug store best foundation only to pat-press it on thick not considering at all what we're covering, what we're clogging and the fact that the color is two shades too dark. And then we sit greasy with our necks a completely a different color than our faces expecting flawless. Better yet, attention from it all.
I love that by His great design He gave us dark so that we may know the light. That in those dark corners where the devil deals with us all, He gives the hope of the star. The opportunity to let Him in and watch what happens when our big proton balls of past and present collide in His hands.
My darkness?
I most definitely can proclaim. The feelings of wretched and piles of pain are documented. Setbacks and setbacks too.
If we're honest, dark holds us all. In one way or another I would imagine. Journeying through, I want to remind myself that my dark makes more of my light. It sets me on a course of healing, helping, holding out truth all with a face that matches my neck. And armpits that only sweat a little when I put the damn thing on with patience.
In the book of Romans, Paul speaks of the journey to be like Christ. I find comfort and even more beautiful clarity in chapter 7: 21-23, that to move towards light is a lifelong process:
"21 I find then the law, that, to me who would do good, evil is present. 22 For I delight in the law of God after the inward man: 23 but I see a different law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity under the law of sin which is in my members."
I write to move through and man-up for the more that He holds. I need reminders. Post-it notes of His hope. Scattered about. Perhaps even a tattoo. Yes, permanent ink etched into my person proclaiming His timing: His plans: ARE ALL FOR GROWING ME. For good.
And just maybe I'm your post-it note. Your inked reminder that you can sparkle. That you're actually meant for shine. That light comes from knowing the dark. And that hope lives in between the two.
2014 is here. #12 has undoubtedly turned #1. The time for resolutions is trending; the new leaf has been turned. This season has me swelled with visions of new and more and better. I marvel at the "could be" and the "I can". With this hype-of-hello-January, I can't forget that my light means more because of my dark. And that it's important that I take the deep breath of patience before diving into my sweater of life. I want to remember that my disappointments and dark corners bring me to my heartwarming beams of glow. My illumination is but His reflection through it all. My neck matches my face when He applies my coverage.
-sparkle-
Twinkling and flickering. Exploding. Past-Present. Protons engage yielding grace. Saving energy. Light. For you and for me. The frayed & the fallen, for the forever furrowed brow find their freedom. Star of wonder..mac :)
p.s. To read the 1st installment of The Sparkle Series, {light}, visit here.
