Speed of Light

Silence is the enemy of my heart by Amanda CarrierThis is the vision I return to most often, when thinking of my daughter.  It used to make me so happy. Hair blown back, not from the wind, but from her movement…her energy dispersed into a world willing to harbor it.

My middle daughter lives most often on the outside of things. Boundaries, for her, exist only as speed bumps…things skidded across, without the slightest realization that they were there to slow her down.

I spend my time balancing the difference between protecting her from this world…pushing her back inside that proverbial box, and turning my mind’s eye from the inevitable wreckage that comes from the realization that this world doesn’t tend well to those that ignore the limits. It’s a process of course, and I am standing witness to the heartbreak of a girl who keeps being left aside. The world is pushing back, and she doesn’t even know it yet.

I can’t stop the lessons, and I can’t seem to find a comfortable place between the men who leave and the ones who want to stay.  I’m too busy letting everyone down, standing confused inside that box that she hasn’t even noticed.  I’ve spent a lot of time lately standing still, convinced that taking my time meant making the right choices.  I hear lots of voices, and they are all asking different questions. When I finally answer, it is seldom with the right voice.

And yet here is my daughter, skipping through this life and tasting all of it.  Moving at the speed of light, because the wind isn’t fast enough. Tears of loneliness erased quickly by the laughter of a well placed joke.  She can scream in pain and dance in the rain within seconds of each other. She is here and there all at once.  She is everywhere always.

I should follow her lead.

Unmeritted Mercy

I’ve read the Bible, in its entirety, just once.

I’ve stood before the eyes of God and pledged to love one man for the rest of my life, and lied.

I’ve sat inside pews of the smoothest oak and witnessed the connection between other people’s souls and heaven, and felt left out.

I’ve heard the tiny whispers of a child’s prayer and wept.

And I’ve prayed, just once, for the life of an unborn child.

But I don’t think I knew grace until I told you who I was and you loved me anyway.

I learn the most from stories, and my deep infatuation with words has left me searching for perfect endings.  My youth still dreams, but my wisdom tells me sometimes other people write them for you.

I’m starting to understand that my ghosts haunt you as much as they haunt me.  Dreams are for the young, and they keep resurrecting the ashes from my past.  Each time I try to wipe them away, they disappear into the sunlight, only to appear again in the darkness.  But spring is coming now, it is floating on the cool breeze sweeping winter away. The days are getting longer and darkness is pushed away by your grace.  Amanda Carrier

If the Bible is the story of creation, of a generous life and of faith, then ours is story of endurance.  As though you have already forgiven me for future mistakes, your touch is as light as the sun. My breath steadies itself in your presence. And I see you search for me in my silence. Locked far away, my words lie still.  But I’m experiencing you more in the stillness, than I ever could struggling with words.  This is our moment shared, a place entirely ours…with no beginning and no end.

Perhaps I’ll find God tucked somewhere deep inside you because I do best with things I can hold. So I’m going to float inside the idea of you for awhile, make your words the current for mine.  I’m catching up to you now and am close behind.