Cold water, Dry run – Heal the wounds of yesterday –

“Pain feels like a fast stab wound to the heart. But then healing feels like the wind against your face when you are spreading your wings and flying through the air! We may not have wings growing out of our backs, but healing is the closest thing that will give us that wind against our faces.”  – C. JoyBell C.

Trying hard to find water in a dry land. A parched, dry, burning throat tortures me. My lips, peel like mud flakes baked by the noon heat. Life was here, now, only the memory of life conveyed in the carved, hard mud of me, a dry lake. Then a soft wind blows, the temperature drops slowly, a coolness invades, and the clouds gather promising a new thing is on its way. Soft drops escape at first, slowly building a faceless mob. Each drop makes a mark, dimpling the ground. The little craters overflow and begin to form a growing conglomeration of streaming water alliances, gathering momentum and finding their way to the thirsty lake, filling the deepest cracks first.

 
Notice the deepest cracks are the ones first filled with the life-giving water. Likewise, notice how the deepest hurts are the first healed when the fulfillment of your hearts desire comes to pass. It’s a beautiful to see life restored. There is a fulfillment in hope and contentment after suffering. It feels so good, like cold water after a hot run.
Also published in Broowaha
First published in Opinions Of Eye
08172011

Brokenness – No pain, No gain

“A broken soul is not the absence of beauty, but a cracked and torn soul reeks of the sweet incense it contains.” – C. JoyBell C.

Broken. A pervasive and hopeless sadness following a loss or traumatic experience. There is another side to brokenness, a side that is beautiful. When my mind snaps, when my heart breaks, when I’m left alone, when I’m betrayed, I am cast down on the stones of life and the shards of peace and hope scatter everywhere. In the aftermath, when all I’m left with are pieces, there lies a hidden gift of recovery. The process of healing and restoration initiates a change that, if I were left whole, could not occur. For brokenness to help me, for it to begin surprising and wondrous changes, I must take my mess to the Creator. He formed the grandeur of the universe from chaotic clutter and He will bring awesome galaxies of restoration to the darkness of my broken soul. When I yield to Him, a resurrection of hope reaches from the grave. I find real beauty in brokenness, it allows me to be an understanding and compassionate companion to the many that lay in ruins. Brokenness, it allows me a chance to be a healer, and as I heal others, I restore myself. 

Also published in Broowaha