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In my hands is a cloak. An invisible, tangible darkness well-worn and old. Caught in a moment of rage at indescribable things I picked it up and wore it proud while cutting skin and bleeding mind.

But black-eyed and mouth open wide, you spoke to me in the wee hours of morning, fighting for justice with all your might. Not false self, but true self… true blue. Caught and stuck for years under painted eyes and a silent scream.

I’m sorry.

I was born to laugh and be joyful. I was not born for shadows and rage. But I felt it, I felt it in my tiny fists. I felt the need to know sorrow as I cut deep into my own skin and hugged the shadows like a warm blanket of knowing. I was wrong.

I was wrong. And I let the ghost of lies seep in and plague me. Seep in and silence myself, seep in and take fake form over truth.

Until you came and shook me. And woke me up.

“No more. No more.”

Release.

Little girl, 8 years old, kicks my shin.

She sits on my lap, curls up, arms around my neck. “I love you.”

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.

“It’s okay. Move on.”

She is defiant with laughter and a courageous hope for her destiny.

She is me.

Today was a day of inspiration (in spite the fact that I woke up at 8:30am, decided I wasn’t ready to face the world and went back to sleep for another hour). Once fully awake, I embraced the wonder of beautiful sunshine in Scotland and took myself, my camera and notebook out for a walk to explore my human doll character, and to work on capturing a mood visually.

The exercise proved quite fruitful in uplifting my spirits and inspiring me… and also in making me realize just how much I love black & white photography.

I’m still developing the character’s motivations and psychology but realizing how intricately her ability to act/react seems to be connected to my ability to recognize the changes that have occured in my life.

What I mean is: she is often just responding to what’s been done to her, taking the hit. I have too. But she’s a fighter. And I am a fighter.

And there does come a point when the fight has to come out one way or another. This is something I am realizing. And I do mean realize-ing (making real). I’m learning how to fight. How to overcome. I am learning how to be myself without just reacting to others opinions and ideas, but by acting and taking action that is my own.

It’s a process.

Yes, the Lord is good.

I realized from the fact that I have spent the day stuffing myself with sugary things again (oy). That I have been filling myself up with things that aren’t satisfying, and that it has been a little bit since I really sat with God and heard from Him on my own. I miss Him when I don’t do that. I need my time to sit alone with God.

So I shut the door, turned off the TV and the computer, and praised Him trustfully. Trust is a big theme. I declared my trust and felt it. I believed it. I believe He is trustworthy and a loving provider.

I saw myself walking through the woods again… but He didn’t just take my hand. He scooped me up like a husband and bride. And I noticed I was wearing a dress, with bare feet. So relaxed.

He carried me to a hammock in the middle of a warm, lush green wood and gently placed me in the hammock. He stroked my cheek and stepped back ever so slightly.

Then a man stepped forward, reaching out to me. And God smiled. And the man smiled down at me and I lifted my hand to him. Our arms caught and held on. Both men smiled down at me and I started to cry. I felt so loved, peaceful, provided for, cherished.

Rest. Rest in me. In my love, my provisions and plans.

And Psalm 23 came to mind again:

“He restores my soul… He makes me lie down in green pastures… my cup overflows… goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life”

I’m feeling a bit small and wide-eyed right now.

It is so cool to be back here in Edinburgh, to be entering into this new thing, life, journey, destiny, etc. But right now I feel a bit… overwhelmed… or perhaps the better word is baffled by the scope of my dreams, and what I’ve been lead into.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s too good to be true. There just seems to be such blessing and promise of more!

It’s not that I can’t handle it. Rather, it’s that there is so much and I am SO excited about it all. But it’s a lot of work, and time, and dedication. And if the time is now. If this is a time of birth, and yes, and coming to fruition, of hope fulfilled instead of deferred, then that is glorious and hopeful and exciting… and busy!

I cannot let go of God’s hand. And I cannot dare to forget His promises and the things that have been spoken over me.

So, I will allow myself to blink a bit and settle and find my bearings again here, but I also must plunge in feet first and dream and write and plan and hope and pray and trust with all my might. Cos isn’t that it?

Isn’t that the true thing? To know that it isn’t just acceptance or belief…

Believing is one thing, accepting is one thing, but the true, real crazy part of the journey is when you take His hand and listen when He says those fateful words…

“Run”

And you do. And you never stop.

Hand in hand, you keep running and you keep growing until you are more yourself and then more and then more… until one day He doesn’t have to grab your hand. You are grabbing His. You are whole and together.

It’s about trust. And it’s ruthless.

Brilliant.