Seeking Identity

What if the reason we struggle to understand ourselves is because we don’t trust ourselves? What if our closest friends truly do understand us because they do trust us? What if all of our seeming contradictions are actually smoke and mirrors set up by our self-doubting brain? What if confidence were just the road to peace? What if we actually listened to those who know us best? What if we could feel our personality as solid? What if this is all a phase? What if it isn’t? What if we understood ourselves and that led to trusting ourselves? What if our closest friends’ trust in us is what blinds the into understanding us? What if we could find our identity in something completely other and eternally constant? What if?

Ephesians 2:10~ “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”


Psalm 139:13-14
 ~ “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well”

Christi 8

The Mother

“Christi? Could you help me with this shopping list?” Chrissie Marsy pushed a collection of cans onto the counter and turned back to the cabinet.

Christi glanced up from her puzzle. “I’m kinda busy…”

Her mother pushed another arm load of cans onto the counter. “You’re putting a puzzle together, dear, I think you can spare a moment.”

The laughing words nudged memories of Kalia’s high-minded, condescending explanations and Christi bristled a little. “I’m trying to figure something out, please, let me just work on this.”

“Really, Christi, I think you can help me for ten minutes with this.” Chrissie paused and leaned against the counter, watching the emotional wave on her daughter’s face. Her veins shot with blue light traced up and down the silver binding in her cheek. 

It sent her over the edge, though, and Christi stood up sharply. “Mom, I was really trying to figure something out, can I not catch up on all of that? I don’t think you realize just how behind my brain still is, I missed all of the maturing everyone else out there got and now when I catch up all you can think about is next monday’s dinner!” The shadows of her muscular arms grew darker as her veins began to shimmer from her thumbs to her shirt sleeves.

Chrissie fell back a little, staring as her daughter began to shine through her clothes with anger. “Christi, let’s not get riled up over this…”

“No, I am! Just…Just give me a second…I…I…” The blue light  swallowed up her face completely and suddenly dropped. Chrissie blinked and her daughter quickly covered her eyes quickly. “It’s really bright in here…”

“Christina Marsy…that was quite the episode…”

“Mom, it’s bright in here…” She moaned a little and ducked her head. “What did you want me to do…? I…I forgot…I don’t remember…what happened…did I have a fight…?”

Chrissie looked to Holden who shadowed the doorway watching.

“Mom, I’m scared, I forgot everything, am I home? Was it a dream? I’m confused…” She began to cry, leaning her elbows on the table.

Holden stroked his beard thoughtfully as Chrissie rounded the table and took Christi’s shoulders. “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know!” She hit the table in frustration and Holden winced as he saw it rock. “One minute I was sitting the next minute I wake up from passing out…”

“You didn’t pass out.” Chrissie rubbed her daughter’s shoulder and smiled softly as she relaxed.

Her shoulders shook for several more moments, but she leaned against her mother. “Did…Um, did I just get mad…? Was it just that…? How long has it been…?”

Chrissie stroked her hair. “A few seconds. You didn’t want to help me with the grocery list.”

Holden slid away quietly as his wife dealt with the situation. “Oh…I’ll do that, now…I’m sorry, it just starts and…I can’t…I don’t know. It snaps me out…”

“Let’s talk.”

The two worked peacefully in the kitchen for several minutes, speaking quietly to each other. She couldn’t really control the blue glow…after an episode light hurt her eyes…She forgot what she had been thinking about and didn’t even remember it was important…the episodes left her, unbeknownst to her daughter, Chrissie realized, docile and hopeless. It was like throwing a tantrum and feeling ashamed of it later.

“Christi, why does it upset you so much?” She added a note to their list.

Christi worked for several minutes, sorting through the frustrating thoughts in her mind. “I think it’s…because I can’t remember what happens afterwards. It’s like…Like under the Red Lady the light was induced every time I had a fight and they kept it while I recovered so it would happen…and then a month later I’d wake up without knowing better.”

“Does it feel like you’re being used?” her daughter nodded meekly. “What else?”

“Like…” She organized the cans and counted them. “It’s like I can’t control myself. I could… I don’t know why it matters to me. It mattered so much when she pitted me against Clay, the other guy, I got to the point that I’d see him recovering and it would make me sick. I’d say I’d never do it again. And then it happened. Over and  over. A cycle. I couldn’t kick it…and…I didn’t know why I cared, because I wouldn’t remember consciously making a decision.”

Chrissie leaned against her daughter. “Christi, you’re trying to figure out why you care about keeping your promises.”

“Exactly!” She stomped a little. “Why does everyone else understand why I’m upset and I can just explain stupidly what I’m afraid of—” She was silenced by a finger on her lips.

“Honey, you’ve got a slight medical disability, now. And like you said, you lost several of your maturing years.” Christi snorted and shrugged. “What I can say is that I’m very impressed with your ability to locate the problem. You knew where the feelings originated, you just didn’t know the name of it.”

Christi rubbed her eyes wearily. “I don’t know how that will help me, though. I get trapped…whirling around with just…vague emotions I can’t trace…”

“Will you come to me when that happens? You lost your teenage years to figure this out, but I lost the chance to help you, too.” Chrissie nibbled her lip hopefully and squeezed her daughter.

“You know, you talk like me, mom. It’s kinda funny. I mean not funny funny, but weird…I don’t know…Yes, I’d like to…I’ve confused myself. Sorry.”

Holden chuckled from the doorway again. “Like mother, like daughter.”

Question Entry 27

I had a fight with mom, today. It was nothing like the fights we used to have. I blued-out and lost everything so she had to explain it all. I understand about all that…commitment I had questions about, now. It helps to know that first off, I’m not stupid, just a slow learner. 

As for commitment, it ties in with that “love” stuff Bobby was talking about. Love commits and sacrifices, the commitment is the decision to keep sacrificing. On a smaller scale, it’s telling Hailey I’ll meet her tomorrow. It’s saying you can trust me and I’ll trust you. And when I break that…suddenly I’ve lost respect and love from people, people who don’t even really love me, but have enough love to sacrifice a little to commit. It winds loops around my brain, but I understand that much. And that’s enough for me.

Christi 7

The Brother

“Hey, Chrissy? Someone named Clay left a message for you.” Bobby watched in surprise as a rush of blue glitter smacked his sister’s cheeks and thickened. “Did you just blush?”

“No, I blued.” Christi looked away quickly. “What did he say?”

“Oh, something about moving his family down to the planet again and they’re looking for a good place to land and blahblahblah, he also wants to visit.” She did the blue thing again. “Why are you blushing?” His voice cracked just a little and he cleared it, wishing it would just grow up already like the rest of him.

Christi threw a magazine at him like she used to and snarled. She didn’t used to do that. It was weird. “Oh, while I was an experiment they planned for us to get married, that’s all.”

Bobby’s brain exploded. “You got married?!”

“Planned, it fell through. I turned prize fighter instead, remember?” She flexed and Bobby tried not to drool over her biceps. It was so not fair…though in his defense, he hadn’t been mutated.

“Would you have done it? Just married a guy because they told you to?” He sat down beside her, trying to understand this “new and improved” Chrissy.

“Yeah, why not?”

Again, his brain exploded. “What about love?”

“He was cute.” She shrugged it off, turning away to find a ball of yarn.

“That is not love, Chrissy.” He leaned back, “Let me educate you. Love is when two people care about each other enough that they decide to spend the rest of their lives together whether they turn out to be a moron or not.”

“How heartwarming, Bobby.” But to his surprise, she set her knitting down. “And how does one find this special committed moron?”

“Um…” he wracked his twice exploded brain for several seconds. “I date Theresa…Dad dated Mom…You get to know someone until you decide to live with them for better or for worse.”

She grunted, turning back to her knitting. “Did anyone ever tell you that it smells like you haven’t showered in a decade?”

“I thought you were some hotshot x-prize-fighter, don’t people sweat in the arena?”

“You should be glad I have thick skin, dufus, you can’t smell through a broken nose and if your nose isn’t broken, it’s bleeding, and if it isn’t bleeding, you aren’t working up a sweat.”

Bobby wrinkled his nose. “Well, is that code for, “please, sweet Bobby explain to me the paths of love” or for, “get a shower, you twerp”?”

“Both.” She kicked her feet up noncommittally.

“Huh. I’ll do the hard work first. So Clay is cute, but would you live the rest of your life with him?”

Christi threw an extra ball of yarn at his head. “Go shower, Bobby, Clay is married and a father, I am not considering dating him if that’s why you think he’s coming.”

Bobby shot out of his chair snickering, “Yes, ma’am, yes ma’am.” 

Question Entry 26

Bobby’s intellect is severely impared by the number of times he fell down the stairs as a child. However, I can appreciate the epiphany he gave me. When my engagement to Clay was broken off, I asked what is love…and now I have an answer. It’s the willingness to sacrifice oneself for another.

In conclusion, Clay does in fact love me.

And the romantic love I was so worried about? I think it’s a mix. It’s physical attraction combined with self sacrifice.

I’m glad our engagement was broken off, as difficult as that was. I was in no position emotionally or in maturity to even consider sacrificing my personal pleasure for Clay. He got lucky.

It’s also incredible how much worse Bobby smells than Clay. I can remember that. Clay was bad, Bobby makes me woozy.

Musings on Beauty

“Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing,” (Proverbs 31:30a) Beauty is like the earth’s image as the sun passes over it. In the youth of the day, the bright morning light, the earth is fresh, gorgeous, beautiful in its new clothes and makeup. And so, it passes, a few short hours, the sun is up, and the burning light seems to evaporate all the simple joys of youth. Instead, now the earth is left with its cracks and crevices revealed. The passing beauty of the morning, though, comes back under a different disguise. Again, the earth is beautiful. Its beauty is again passing, but the strength of midday light shows the power and persistence in the earth’s graces. That again, however, dims. The gentle glow of the afternoon and evening returns the earth to its new clothes—now dusty and worn. The beauty now is found in the memory of its wearing. Each article of clothing has a history, now, telling of strength and youthful delights. Still, even this beauty passes and the light fades into complete absence…forgetfulness…the mere shapes and feeling of what the earth once was becomes the new reality. It is lit by the hazy beams of the moon and brushes the surface of the earth…probing it for memories of what once were yesterday. This, too, is beautiful. And finally, as it passes on into history, the new youthful morning begins, shaped by the beauty and graces of the day before and carrying the memory of its brightness with it.

Beauty does not come at the pinnacle of one’s life and fade forever into oblivion after those blissful 24 hours. Beauty only changes its shape to adjust to the new light—no man or woman ever desired to spend the rest of their life in the morning of the day. “But a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.” (Proverbs 31:30b) As the earth fears the Lord and receives beauty for all stages of its day, so should we fear the Lord, and we will find beauty for all stages of our lives.

I only have one thing to say after this–I firmly believe that God gives each individual their own beauty, a harmony between all of their features. In the world, I have discovered a narrow-minded definition of “Beautiful”. In an effort to combine the two beliefs during my childhood, I would tell myself I was pretty. That I didn’t really care, I looked decent, and that’s all that mattered. The truth is, if you have to convince yourself you are pretty, while you are at a good start, you are certainly not all the way there. A few days ago, I looked in the mirror and realized I was pretty. No convincing necessary. The way my features (far from perfect by themselves) complimented each other suddenly stood out to me. That is my challenge for you when you finish this post. Look in the mirror, and realize you are pretty or handsome. It only took me about 18 years…but it is worth it. I hope everyone realizes this one day.

Christi 6

The Friend

Christi looked around contentedly. The soup shop bustled with friendly activity and tempting smells. The coins jingling in her pocket made her hungry as she glanced around. The line was just long enough for her to choose her bowl and bread before she had to order.

“May I take your order?” The cheerful cashier didn’t bat an eye as Christi’s blue twinkle betrayed her nervousness.

“I would like the chive and mushroom soup, please, with cranberry and walnut bread.” She held out her cash.

“Anything else?” The cashier’s eyes twinkled as Christi quickly shook her head. “Here is your change, have a wonderful meal! Next?” Christi sidestepped for the next customer. As she waited for her bowl, she glanced at the customer behind her. She was average height…just a little smaller than herself. Christi admired her wispy brown hair escaping the sweet braid running to her belt. A waiter pushed a plate with toasted cranberry bread towards her and she shuffled over to make room for the next customer. She glanced at her again and they locked eyes for a second. Beautiful brown eyes. The blue twinkle darted from eye to eye and in little bursts in her cheeks with embarrassment.

“Oh!”

“Sorry, I—” Christi tried to explain the glow, but the stranger interrupted her.

“No, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting it, um…” She looked away quickly, smiling a little to herself.

“Don’t worry.” Christi laughed a little and took the square bowl from the waiter. “It surprises most people.”

She took the other bowl and turned to her, “Are you sitting with someone?”

Christi blinked and smiled. “Ah…no. Would you like to join me?” The stranger scooped up her bowl with a smile that set questions at ease in Christi’s heart. Something emanating from her felt like pure trust and her gentle smile sang “I understand.” They wove in and out of the low tables and found a comfortable corner to curl up in. Christi took a spoon from the holder on the side and rested her bowl in the slot. “So what is your name?”

The stranger followed suit and tucked her knees to her chin. “Hailey, and you?”

“Christina. Call me Christi.” She took a sip of her soup and smiled contentedly.

“What did you get?” Hailey watched her softly, keeping a subconscious eye on the little blue sparkles that occasionally revealed themselves in her skin.

Christi let her thick jacket fall to the ground. “Chive and mushroom, you?”

“Squash.” They sipped in silence for a few moments before Hailey glanced up. A firework of blue exploded in Christi’s cheeks from burning her tongue. “If I may ask…” She thought carefully, “How did you…”

Christi chuckled. “Start glowing? I was part of an experiment six or seven years ago. Long story short, I gained superwoman strength and artificial memory loss. It’s been…neutralized a little, but the twinkling hasn’t gone.” She shrugged. “I can put my jacket back on if it disturbs you.”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Hailey allowed herself to stare, now. “It’s mesmerizing.”

They fell silent for a few more moments, awkwardly sipping soup and soaking bread. “So. What is your story?” Christi’s blue eyes danced as she took in the greying hair, wrinkled eyes, and young mouth.

“I was a psychologist for the air force during the Interoceanic war.” Hailey dropped her eyes, frowning. Psychologist. Weapon of mass conviction.

Her new friend swirled her spoon in her soup. “I see. I heard that was rough…Tell me, did you deal with any memory cases…?”

Hailey shook her head, the limp braid flicking like a snake down her back. “My patients were all being readied for the front. They knew me as a friend. What was it like to have memory loss, though? I wondered.”

Christi tapped the spoon in her soup and rocked slightly, ciphering through the confused blurs of memory. “Like…a perpetual high. No regrets, no hesitation, no shame…but no love…? No happiness? It was monotony that I couldn’t even remember…I had nothing to compare it to. I actually thought I was the artificial consciousness of a computer, I think.” She frowned, becoming absorbed in recollection.

“I know what you mean.”

Christi’s eyes glanced up sharply. “Say what…?”

“The monotony? I don’t know, I suppose it’s different…But I spent my military career isolated because I was a weapon of sorts. I was the moral of the people, my commander’s aide always said.”

The x-fighter winced. “Oof.”

Hailey shrugged and tossed her stray hairs back. “Well, science experiment doesn’t explain false teeth and a metallic tattoo.” She raised a mischievous eyebrow.

Christi’s fingers went to the silvery lines and the blue sparkle blushed with her pink cheeks. “Oh…After the…ah…Experiment lost funding, I was sold as a prize fighter.” She shrugged and laughed. “Lost a lot of teeth, doing that…there was a fire and I lost some of my face and lung capacity.” She cupped her chin with one hand coyly. “But I’m back together again, so all’s well that ends well.”

The flippant words betrayed an exhilarating story to Hailey and she leaned forward with a small smile. “Care to share?”

“Oh…I was on a space station…I had a reputation for winning and I suppose some men lost too many bets and…I guess the easiest way to get it back was burning me after a fight. I was so…” She died away searching for words. “Incapacitated I didn’t even smell the smoke. My friend got me out. I retired after that and went into personal training.”

Hailey watched her admiringly. The story was still held in her eyes, but what emotional strength to rebound from that attack. After a thoughtful silence, she sighed. “As an unofficial psychologist may I ask what that brush with death brought to mind?”

“So quizzical.” Christi smirked. “Um, actually, it made me really think deeply about the afterlife…or if there was one, and sort of…what I was…versus what I felt like…Strangely deep questions for a woman with a severe concussion on anesthesia. Then again, it really melded together in my mind, so I don’t know how much time passed.”

“Did you find an answer?” Hailey brushed crumbs into her bowl and leaned forward.

Christi shook her head, letting her hair snap back and forth. “No. I’m looking for it. Do you have an answer?”

Now it was the brown eyes’ turn to linger on the ground thoughtfully. “No…but I’ve heard of two…The most predominant ones. Are you familiar with reincarnation?” At the blank stare, she leaned forward to explain. “Essentially, the universe is eternal and when you die, you, as Christina, will be reborn as an infant with no memory but hopefully a wiser subconscious. If you didn’t learn enough in this life, you might downgrade to say, a bird.”

Christi wrinkled her nose and snorted a bit. “A bit far fetched…? Wouldn’t the world have at least a few enlightened geniuses by now…?”

“Exactly my difficulty. The other is…Have you ever considered an afterlife where you could go one of two places?” Christi nodded, but Hailey was too busy searching for words to notice. “Well…Heaven and Hell. A good place and a terrible place. These people believe…if you do certain things or accept a certain rule or something, I’m not quite positive, you will go to heaven. Otherwise, you go to hell. And those places are eternal whereas this place is temporary.” Christi nodded her head side to side.

“I’m not sure I like either of those predicaments…but I know there is something left over. There’s something immaterial about us that…doesn’t die. Even if you lose your memory.”

“I could look into them more, but I’m leaning towards the heaven and hell thing. As I studied those patients, they always had more conviction, courage…hope.” She nodded firmly, “It’s the hope that is so rare in soldiers. All of them have some sense of purpose, but the heaven-hell soldiers believed firmly that their life would be used for good. And that kept them going.”

“Was it that strong for them?” Christi closed her eyes longingly.

“Yeah. I never had them as patients long enough to delve deeper, though…So when can we meet up again?” She pulled out a small planner with a smile.

“Um…what works for you? I don’t have anything planned for the next life time besides dinner.”

Hailey squinted, “How about day after tomorrow, same place, same time. At this table.” She started to pencil in the commitment.

“Day after tomorrow, same place, same time, at the door, because I won’t remember which table we sat at.” 

The two young women laughed and slurped the remaining drops of soup up in respect for the cook before disposing of their bowls and parting ways. Hailey pushed out of the bustling shop and into the chill breeze, analyzing and piecing together the delightful puzzle of Christi’s experiences.

Christi lingered by the counter musing on her soup flavor absently.

Question Entry 25

I sank into an armchair by the fire gratefully when I got home. A vehicle splashed me with cold water on my way, but I don’t mind so much, after talking with Hailey. She has a strange effect on people. I feel understood. Like being understood by my dad. Only a little more, like she is searching. She wants to know how my brain works, but I don’t really mind, because she also wants to help it work better. She’s very thoughtful. Speaking of which, I have come to a conclusion.

After death is only the beginning. I believe that since there are obvious consequences for bad behavior…or even because there is such a thing as bad behavior. That itself explains everything. Everyone agrees that certain things are good and admirable, wherever we go. When I do something good, I am praised and rewarded. When I do something bad, life itself punishes me. There is no such thing as haphazard fate, this is obvious. So it is on those grounds that I believe there is something to the Heaven-Hell people. Good people go to heaven, bad people go to hell…but somewhere there is a dividing line, I think. That must be the rule that they follow. It doesn’t seem so terrible, now that I think about it. It’s really not even fair, it’s really nice. If there’s good, there’s absolute perfection, I suppose, because there are always two extremes in nature. Because of that, well…I have never met a perfect person in my life or even heard of one, everyone has something rotten about them, even my dad, even Clay, so to give us that type of deal…is a deal worth accepting, I think.

If there is a deal maker out there…I want to learn about him. I want to at least think about his terms. Hell doesn’t sound like an altogether appetizing retirement home. 

Christi 5

The Father

Christi tugged her jacket closer around her and braved the biting wind. Pale blond people milled around her, but somehow the chill air wove between them, managing to ice every toe. She forgot about the climate difference between her space station and homeland. Her stomach flipped. Home. She would be coming home. Her mother knew she was coming and her father was waiting somewhere in this crowd to guide her to their new apartment. A pang of longing twisted her gut, but considering how little she expected to be granted leave and a flight home, this would be enough. Home.

Parents.

Siblings.

A family dinner.

She zipped up the jacket, fumbling around her gloves. Her parents already knew about the mutation and her mysterious glow, but still, she didn’t want the rest of the world catching her vein sending twinkling lights to the sky so soon. Time enough for that later.

Suddenly, a loud booming voice sent sound waves into her and she staggered back, “Daddy?” She looked around, up, more like, expecting the father who towered over her, still…but the man who encased her in thickly coated arms was hardly four inches taller than her.

“Christi, oh, Christi, how you’ve grown, you’re a woman, now…” He didn’t let her go, smashing her pale face into his thick blond beard.

Christi grunted and tried to push him away without exerting too much. “Hey, dad…um…” It was all too new. She gave up after a second and let the old man have his way. It was warmer, though, honestly, so she decided the display of affection was worth it…however public.

After several more seconds, Holden Marsy released his daughter and held her at an arm’s length. Their tears chilled their pale faces pink and he noticed proudly she had never changed her eye color like she had threatened to as a child. But she was no longer a child…So tall, so well formed…he gave her arms a squeeze with pride and laughed when he felt the flex under her thin jacket. So strong. But that’s what she’d said, an x-prize fighter and a trainer. He laughed deeply at her blush. “Already ashamed of your old man?”

“No!” She blushed more deeply and a blue shimmer crept up her jaw. “Just…just shy, I think…Um, It’s…it’s ah, been…”

He laughed more and pushed his arm around her waist to lead her to the family vehicle before she could continue. “Oh, I didn’t think so…Oh, Christina, this is a dream come true.”

“Christina…” She murmured, under her breath.

“You didn’t forget your own name, now, did you?” He glanced at her curiously and caught more blue shimmering around her cheeks and forehead. It was unnerving, actually, but he didn’t let it show. This was his daughter. He loved her so much.

“Actually, yes, I guess. I signed my journal Christi.” Shame weighted her head.

Holden pushed it up by the chin. “Whether you be Christina, Christi, or Chris, you be my daughter.” He blinked in surprise as she threw muscular arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. “Christina…”

She cried into his chest, chattering about the past and confusion. It saddened Holden’s heart as he stroked her glossy gold hair. At last, she turned away, keeping her face down. She hiccupped. “It’s been so long, Daddy. I forgot you, Mommy, everyone…home…everything…my own name…I didn’t even remember meals. I didn’t have a mind. I…I…It still scares me sometimes. I could have been married and I would never remember it.”

The ache in his chest grew and Holden longed to pick up his little girl, but she was gone. Lost somewhere under the layers of muscle and sinew. “Come home, now. We’ll tell you everything.”

Christi hiccupped and laughed at the same time, drawing another laugh with it. “You don’t mind…?”

Holden opened the door to his vehicle before taking her shoulder firmly. He smiled. “Daughter. Whether you be Christina or Chris, the universe’s most renown genius or a woman who can’t remember her own name, a foolish and headstrong adolescent or something like the mature, successful young lady I see before me. You will always be daughter of Holden Marsy. Always.”

Her eyes watered and blue light twinkled along her fingernails and eyes as she fought back tears.

Question Entry 24

I laid back on the couch my parents had provided as bed for me. This was home. I smiled at the dark ceiling, remembering the laughs, awkward silences as I dredged up memories, tears when I could not…And Daddy’s deep voice, always booming through the house. “My daughter is home. Now both of my children are together.” I stretched my toes to the tip of the couch, exploring comfortable sleeping positions before the house settled down completely. “So, what am I?” I felt the journal under my pillow thoughtfully. The first entry had posed the heart breaking question of my childhood. “What am I? I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a fighter. I am a winner.” I smiled proudly, tracing patterns in the carpet as blue light fell from my skin. “Am I more than skin and bones?” The next question burned into my mind seemed to quaver in the flooring. “Yes. I am. If I were only skin and bones, my father would not see me as valuable. He could procure another daughter. Clone me and love it. Find a dog and name it Christina and there is his daughter. Yes, I am more than skin and bones.” Stress seemed to dissolve in my stomach and I realized I had been holding my breath. What a joy. What a peace. To know one was needed, wanted, more than a combination of DNA and mutation.

I stretched again, searching for a pen in my purse. I needed to write this revelation down in my journal…before I could forget. I snickered at Bobby’s deep voice rumbling out his teasing. He loved me, too, I realized. Love, belonging, spirit…new questions spun in my mind as I added an entry to my worn chronicle. I loved it. The questions, the answers, the assurances that life was arraigned chance…As my pen trailed slower and slower, my eyes drifted shut. The book fell with a gentle flutter and the pen rolled to the side as I yawned and tucked myself in. I was Daddy’s daughter.

Musings on Hope

I have always struggled with hope (and staying hydrated for that matter). I don’t like being wrong, let down, or disappointed…so the easiest course of action always seems to be low expectations. My mom was shocked to find that at a young age, I was a perfect pessimist. Unfortunately, cynicism, like dehydration, comes with painful and sometimes life-threatening side effects. Now I like to make a point of finding the hope and joy in life. The more I practice it, the more vibrant the world becomes. Hope is beautiful. Far from a means of disappointment, it is an opportunity to channel passion and a tool for achieving dreams. I am also more inclined to drink water more regularly…coincidence? I’m still thinking about it… What embodies hope for you? Do you find it an easy tool to manipulate in life?

Hope is like water. Eternal use and ever springing to life again, fresh; the two understand one another. Water rejuvenates dry lips and washes away a bitter taste. In its purest form, water sparkles. In the morning, water dusts the earth with a gentle mist and balances precariously on the most ragged blades of grass so when the morning sun shines through it, the blade is suddenly adorned with a brilliant natural beauty. Under the shadow of a cloud, water takes on a more fearsome persona. One drop multiplies into millions and a surge of power washes away all the debris and dirt collected on the ground. Like water, hope rejuvenates and clears away bitterness. When a heart is lifted by hope, it loses weight and the world brightens. Hope washes away the dust of a journey and brings a sparkle to the most worn faces. In the face of danger or decay, hope has the power of a flash flood. Its sudden power races through a community and the raw anticipation begins a domino effect of action. A community without a well grows cynical, dry, lifeless. A heart without hope follows the same path into despair. As water recycles itself through the world, hope recycles itself through people. Like joy, one drop of hope can start a torrent of anticipation through a crowd, city, and country.

[Photo credit to Pinterest]