I Will Sing

I want to be loved for who I am, not what I can give--not what I can make someone feel. Sometimes I have conversations with myself about who I am and who I want to be, and I say to myself, "Don't let yourself go to anyone who loves your body more than your soul.." But do you know how hard that is? So many people see you and meet you and form an opinion of who you are before they have even had a conversation with you, before they even know your name. I don't know about you, but I don't wear my emotions, or my soul, on my sleeve. My eyes don't portray the pain I've felt and the creases in the palms of my hands can't tell you all the places I've been. And so many people only see the sheen of your hair or the flash of your smile--the curve of your hips or the spring in your step--and yet, they don't care to know who you really are. Appearances are so misleading. Smiles are so deceiving. And the words of the song run through my head tonight as I count down the hours to a new year: who will love me for me, not for what I have done or who I'll become.. I want to say there is someone like that that I can give my heart to. I've wanted that for a long time, and I will most likely always want that. Women were made to crave love--well actually it was a curse placed upon us for our sin--we will always long to be loved and love will evade us. I know my Savior's arms are open wide, and He satisfies my every need, but you cannot deny that there is a part deep inside that wants to be cherished--humanly. We all want someone to think about us more that we think about ourselves...we all want someone who will love us even after they have heard all our stories and all our secrets--even the dark and terrible, even the nightmares. I've been sitting here in this dimly lit room listening to the clock tick, knowing that it won't stop, but rather usher in a new year...and I'm trying to be happy and excited, but for some reason I can't stir my soul. I'm thankful for what my God has done and all that He will continue to do, but at the same time I'm tired, and my soul is weary. This past year has been both a joy and a heartache. It will be forever marked as the holder of past mistakes and cruel days, but my God has shown Himself to be the Bestower of light and the Great Giver of days and of life--greater than any day or any year or any earthly tyrant, whether breathing or seeming.

It was this year, only a few hours away actually, that I was told that he wanted to marry me.

It was this year that my life and heart were changed at a camp I had never been to, and with people I barely knew--waist deep in snow.

It was this year that my family was torn at the seams with not only one, but two trials before a stern judge. 

It was this year that my sister realized she was falling in love--and this year that I realized I wouldn't have my sister next to me for very much longer.

It was this year that my heart was torn from my chest when I realized a love I had professed wasn't real.

It was this year that the home I loved and adored was taken from me and given to another. 

It was this year that I kissed my high school days goodbye.

It was this year that I sat behind the wheel of a car--hands sticky and heart uncertain.

It was this year that I felt so empty, and yet so full. 

This has been a year in which my biggest struggle, unavoidable, has been to move on. Whether or not I wanted it, whether or not I cared. And I have to confess, I'm scared for a new year to come. I'm scared of the uncertainty and of the possibilities of failure. I need to look up at the stars and re-focus my heart on what truly matters. I know not how many years I have left. I may have one, I may have twenty, and I may only have a few breaths left, but I know no matter what--through it all--thick and thin--that I have a God who is bigger than any mistake I could ever make, more forgiving than any crime I could ever commit, more faithful than I could ever be faithless. 2014, I want you to be a year filled with my faithfulness toward my Savior, I want you to be a year in which I conquer fears that have held me prisoner for so long, and I want you to be a year in which I can raise my arms every day to the sky and proclaim the joy that I have in my deepest of hearts. 

As this new day dawns I will sing of a love that never fails, no matter how much I may crave. 

As a new day dawns I will open my eyes to His wonders anew--and I will sing because I have been redeemed.

 

Tears in Dust

How many times must I fall flat to the earth before something in my life turns out for good? How many mistakes must I make, how many tears must I cry, how many times must I kick myself until I lay upon the earth seeping blood? Every time I let my heart cry to someone other than itself it only gets kicked again, and so it only shrinks away from any hand, any heart, any love. I have said that I will trust and obey more and more each day, but I can't stand, I only cry and shrink. Is every man out for blood? How many times must I fall before I learn to walk? Oh my dear God, I can't love anymore, oh my dear God, I can't live anymore. I want to sob into a pair of arms, I want to be held secure while I sleep, knowing that nothing can harm me and nothing will try to take away the little I have left. My heart feels a hollow shell of pain, my life feels like an empty disaster, and every time I feel like I could not possibly feel  more pain I find my face smeared in mud. And the dreams of my childhood return, where everyone meant to harm, and every place I went was to escape something I was running from. The woods were dark and deep and so very cold. Every pack of wolves bounded to snap at my feet as I ran, and every tall form meant only to strangle the air from my lungs. Every pair of hands reached for my throat, and every path that I was lead down went straight up a cliff until the person I followed turned and threw me to my death. My eyes would dart into the shadows and see pairs of eyes following me, and if they didn't find me, they would drive me insane until all I could do was lay down and die--eyes wide open with fear. It paralyzes me, this fear, and my eyes hold nothing but pain and tears masked by a sheen of indifference. Why do I feel so alone in a house full of people? Why do I feel so abused and used when no hands have touched me? Why do so many enemies lurk in my mind, why do so many words knock me to my knees, my face, until my stomach lurches within me and I struggle each day to eat? I close my eyes for the day has turned dark, but inside my eyes are eyes watching me, and waiting--I know not for what, I know not why they stay, can't they see that I'm too empty for them to steal anything else away?

The faint scent of smoke reached Llenora's nose, and she struggled to pull her mind back to consciousness. Her arms felt heavy as lead and her body grew wet and clammy with heat, but still she could not awake. The struggle was too hard--it was easier to just fall asleep. Somewhere deep inside was screaming at her, but the words were garbled, and then, slowly a deep apathy settled upon her mind. She cared not, what ere may come, all was already lost.

Somewhere in the Past

With every step I take I sink farther back into the past; I remember what has been with a vague awareness. It's the same feeling as if I stepped into a novel and became someone I didn't really know. As if the story that has unfolded before my eyes is merely that: a story. And slowly I realize that the things I dream don't describe who I really am.

Llenora closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Her back ached from sitting in one place for so long and her eyes burned with lack of sleep. The sheets of paper lying on the desk were as bare as they had been hours ago and the pen was held limply between her fingers. The little mirror propped in her writing desk shone with the dying embers of the fire. Taking the mirror, Llenora looked at her tired face--the dark circles, the sallow complexion that had stolen away her bloom, and the lifeless hair that once had shone in the sunlight. Nothing was the same as it had been, and all at once, everything that she never thought would happen to her had come crashing down...leaving both her heart and her life in ruins.

She watched a sadness creep into her eyes, and then, slowly, the glass slipped from her cold hands to drop to the floor. Llenora picked up her aching bones and crawled up the stairs to her bed. The room was cold, the grate empty. There was frost on the glass and only cold water in the basin, but her mind had dulled and thought only of rest. Shivering in her nightgown, she pulled the old quilt over her head and for once, allowed herself to truly forget everything. Forget everything and sleep.