Prelude:
In the wake of hearing about too many relationships devastated by immorality and its cover-ups, I couldn’t handle it any longer.
“If we have truly been redeemed and forgiven at the cross by the creator of the universe, why are we hiding our stories?” I asked myself and my family.
Frustrated to the point of anger upon hearing of men who cower in the shadows of their past (which is supposedly redeemed), I suddenly had an idea. It was one of the scariest things I had ever done. Apart from my family and a handful of friends, I had never shared it with anyone. I was sure people would reject me, that no girl would ever accept me after this, that I would lose face—but I knew I had to do it.
So on March 21, 2013 I put into practice what I had learned two months before in “Grieving” and shared one of my darkest secrets. To my surprise, it dramatically changed my life for he better and very well might have saved my faith.
It was this story that caught the attention of Brett Harris and gave him the nudge to ask if I’d write for TheRebelution.com, which has, in itself, changed my life.
I thought I was sharing my story, but in reality, it isn’t mine at all…
True Stories
“Grieving” Revisited
Prelude:
I published this piece on my old blog two months and a couple weeks after my Mom died on November 6, 2012.
Written during the throes of the deepest grief I’ve experienced, I find my old thoughts still ringing true today. Yet in other ways, I am encouraged by the progress I see. In the second paragraph I talked about many of us not being willing to share honestly about the battles we faced. In the five years since I wrote this, I think that’s changed–at least among my friends. We are much quicker to “just be real.” It may even be to a fault, but I think I’d rather people be a little too honest about their struggles, then try to pretend they’re totally okay or perfect when they’re not. (I don’t know, what are your thoughts? Am I right about the change in atmosphere?)
From the very first two paragraphs, I can see the hand of God weaving a thread through my story that would eventually lead me to make a major, life-changing decision (watch for my next “Revisited” post a week from now).
I pray this is a comfort to those of you going through the same.
“[Not] an Accident” Revisited
Prelude:
In the fall of 2012, four days before my brother’s wedding, my mother, sister, and I were in a car accident. The incident dramatically affected not only the course of my life, but my very identity.
In the proceeding months, blogging, journaling, and writing poetry became one of the primary ways I processed the accident and aftermath.
Looking through my old blog, Fraction, I was recently amazed at how quickly this process began for me. My first post after the accident was only two weeks later. It was titled “Hope.”
Over the next several months, I want to revisit some of these pivotal pieces as well as publish some of the poetry and other prose I had written during that time, but never published. My hope is that it will not only be healing for me to remember what God has brought me through, but also healing for those of you who have gone or are going through a similar experience.
If that’s you, please know: You are not alone.
I’m beginning with a piece which describes—in details I had since forgotten—what it was like for me to wake up that day. Although some of my theology has matured since I originally wrote it, I do hope you find it encouraging and inspiring.
Without further ado:
Dragon’s Breath
I bent hard into the wind. The hot desert sun beat down upon my back and shoulder with no mercy. Dust flew into my eyes and mouth and up my nostrils drawing all the moisture out of my body. Moisture is water. Water gives life. Every now and then when I was able to lift my head and look forward, I would catch a glimpse of something, desperately hoping it was water. But it wasn’t. It never was. I plodded on barely placing one foot in front of the other. Stumbling and falling, ever walking straight into the wind, wind like dragon’s breath.
It seemed like I was in the desert all alone. I felt forsaken, deceived. Nothing can go on forever. I knew the desert would end. But that’s hard to believe when you have traveled for days and there is still no end in sight. My hair had grown long, my skin was dry and flaking, and my feet were swollen from all the walking. I felt dirty and messy and ready to die.When I could walk no further, a gust of dragon’s breath rushed passed and I fell helplessly backwards to the ground on my back. It hurt to have all the air forced through my lungs and out my parched throat. I groaned in my misery, there in the sand, all alone with my hair a tangled mess all over my face. I closed my eyes.
I could almost feel time stand still. The wind stopped, my heart pounded in my ears, my mind went blank.
“Help!” I tried to yell, but couldn’t. “Dear God, help!” I screamed to the shadows of my brain.
Slowly, inside my head, I could see a light glimmering. It was like watching creation happen all over again. Slowly, so slowly the light grew and glimmered. Eventually it had grown so bright that all the shadows with their secrets fled to somewhere I did not know. Finally, I began to make out the source of the light. It was a man and I knew the man! It was Jesus! But then it changed. Jesus was in pain. I saw this, in my head I saw Jesus on the cross! It changed again suddenly, while the light got brighter until it was blindingly white. Now I saw a throne and on the throne sat the Father and by the Father, on His right, I saw a warrior ready for battle. It was Jesus the King, standing with His sword drawn. And then I felt the dragon’s breath and it was all gone.
I opened my eyes and saw the dry, pale blue sky. I stood up trembling in my weakness. Before me stretched the desert long into the horizon, but beside was a little stream. I had not noticed it in my hallucinating state or maybe Someone had just put it there. In any case, there it was, more of a trickle than a stream. But it was water–and water gives life.
C.D.