Fragments.

::Note:: There are several links in this blog. All of them point to specific entries on another blog (not one of mine) that this entry is pertinent to. You do not need to have read those entries in order to understand this one. (Or at least, I don't see why you would.)

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Pencil sketch: Traced Image Concert, 22.01.2006

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Pencil, Staedtler fineliner pens, Staedtler silverball pens, oil pastel, Crayola marker:
Tehillah - I Can Only Imagine, 30.01.2006

Love. Freedom. Comfort. Peace.
This is after the tears, after the breaking of chains. It is the "calm after the storm", the catharsis of being released, the beauty of simply being HELD.
Chaos ends in exhaustion,

the simplicity of being held,
the catharsis of being released.

Those strong arms are waiting,

longing to carry you when you cannot go on.

Rest in that peace.
He will watch over you and keep you safe.
And you will awaken to new life

to His glory
to His presence
to HIM.

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I didn't realize until today just what it is I have hanging on my bedroom wall.

It has long been my favourite picture, a black and white representation of the Madonna and Child (the Virgin Mary, not the singer). I have had it for as long as I can remember, and I always hang it centred over my bed, above a small print of a painting of two children crossing a falling-apart slat bridge in a storem, with an angel guarding them. I drape a yarn hanging over the left corner of the frame, something I made with some feathers and some dried flowers tied in it, and I drape a beautiful old Rosary (in need of repair) over the right corner of the frame.

I took it, today, to my art class, as we were to bring our favourite work of art with us. We didn't talk about it; I will bring again it next week.

For the first time, I noticed the piece of paper glued to the back of the picture. It is the typewritten history of the piece. My paternal grandfather put these labels on every gift he gave any of his relatives, particularly if the item was something that had been in the family for a long time.

I hadn't known that the picture came from him.

And then I read the label.

This picture that I love so much, it is my inheritance, left me by my grandmother, who died when I was two years old.

I didn't know.

How much do we carry around with us, things that we prize, things that we do not know the origins of? Not just the material, but the immaterial. Talents, skills, gifts...

I cried when I learned of the origins of this picture. It is all the more valuable to me now that I know of its past.

Is it always like this, the learning of one's past or that of something that was inherited?

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Never mind that you weren't perfectly sweet all the time when you were small. He doesn't care about that. He just wants you to be a child - and He definitely knows that children can be mean, and cruel, and nasty little things to be around.

Don't try to second-guess Him.

When Jesus speaks to His disciples of children, it is not to tell them to be gullible, or to believe without questioning. Anyone who's ever spent any real time with kidlets knows that they tend to ask the most annoying/disturbing questions about the most annoying/disturbing things - at the most inopportune times.

Be like that.

Bug Jesus.

Follow Him around, tugging on His sleeve, asking Him "Why?" Be curious. Approach the world - this amazing Creation of God's - with wonder. Make mistakes with abandon, but try not to disobey God - mistakes are not the same as disobedience.

One thing that gets glossed over too much these days, I fear, is the importance of our fear of God. Small children love their parents, they trust their parents, they are easily comforted by their parents... but they still hide when they've done something wrong. Children fear their parents when they have disobeyed, for they know consequences will shortly come their way.

Christianity does not preclude consequences for disobedience. Remain aware of that.

But also remember this:

The myth of humanity is that any of us are ever truly finished becoming.

We never finish growing; our souls are forever in transience. And that's okay, because it is the purpose of this life - to nurture us and bring us to full metamorphosis.

Children ask many questions that adults cannot answer. God knows the answers to all of our questions.

Children grow up to become adults. Our souls, too, grow as we live on this earth. By the time we reach adult stature, we will have moved on to the next life.

Children - indeed, all infants - are beautiful creatures. Even featherless baby birds are cute - if only because they bring out that mothering instinct in us.

So become like a child.

Learn, grow, ask questions.

And, one day, look at yourself in the mirror

and finally admit

that you are

beautiful.