Sense and Nonsense

It began with a haircut.  Had my tresses nipped off.  Cut real short.  It was the claiming of a new space, a new phase, a new lease on a journey that has continued on — for better, for worse — way beyond pledges and doubts, way beyond plots and canvasses, way beyond the dull and distant sparkles of the child’s eye that stared back at me from long-ago mirrors. 

I have become a SWAN.  When I was a young girl, I was made to believe that I was a duckling, a sad aberration from a brood of of lovely beings.  But I was also told of the story of the Ugly Duckling… somehow that was meant to give me hope… that someday I will come out to beauty and float about with grace and confidence.   So I worked hard at being good inside.  To be gentle, quiet, unobtrusive, peace-loving, unassuming, polite, undemanding.   I worked hard too at being an exceptional duckling.  To be intelligent, diligent, creative, persevering, goal-getter, hardworking.  I drew strength from my belief in God’s goodness — learning from school, and from the books I read as a child, that He was a loving God. He seemed to love and protect children, and those who took inspiration from Him seemed to be the kindest and warmest beings in the world.  I remember a wooden carving of Jesus hanging from the wall at home, with one hand raised up in blessing… and with the gentlest of eyes that would stare at me even as I felt lost in my hurried childhood.

And I remember Papa.  His eyes spoke louder than the few words he would speak.  His love emanated and embraced me from the coldness that cloaked the vagueness of my child-existence.  In my child-eyes, he became bigger than the crushed soul he might have been… for his love was my anchor.

And thus I have journeyed.  With veiled eyes, I would often see an ugly and awkward duckling in the rippling waters of my passage.  But oh what a gift it was too.  For I wasn’t wont to staring at water reflections, I was looking at skies with dazzling brilliance, sprouting green weeds on edges of riverbanks, trembling dewdrops on brown orange leaves … I was seeing beauty all around me. 

The ugliness and darkness of violated early mornings were buried under all the beauty that seemed to spring forth in every twist and curve of my passage.  It allowed a retreat of memory that would help me to move forward to a better place.  It allowed a space for me to gain enough strength and inhale enough life to enable a surfacing when time was ripe.

And it has resurfaced.  And I had enough strength.  And I continue to breathe life.  And beauty.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 11th, 2007 at 2:50 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.