An Anniversary Post (4)

In lieu of our 9^th anniversary: A celebratory post, to remember, to give thanks for, to reflect and of course post pictures!

Today marks the 9th year anniversary of stress like no other: The day BEFORE the wedding! Running last minute errands, packing for the honeymoon, picking up wedding dress, attending the bridal brunch, remembering to breathe, making sure the right people had the right rings, wrapping gifts, getting nails done, greeting family and guests, remembering to eat, trying to make the rehearsal on time, not making the rehearsal on time, wishing it wasn't so hot, spending last precious moments with family, being nervous, finding something borrowed something blue, focusing on the fact that I will be married at the end of the next day no matter what may go wrong...

Here are some snap shots from that hectic day!

At the Bridal Brunch: My bridesmaids - Rebecca, Ashley, Michelle, Shanda, Tricia, Cally (sister) and Erin 

Rehearsal

My Aunt Kim "Sissy" helping the flower girls Danielle, Taylor and Addy

Dustin's Grandparents hosted a beautiful rehearsal dinner at their home - the spread!

With Dustin's Memaw

In the gazebo, Papa giving me last minute advice, my bum arm I had surgery on two weeks after we were married.

My mother and I

Me and my almost-husband!

On the patio over looking the Whale Branch River, Dustin and my brother Hunter thought something was funny... apparently nobody else did!

It was time to pass out the gifts. Us with the best man and dear friend Gary.

This is how much Dustin loves Gary

Me and my Maid of Honor Erin

Ashley, Dustin's sister, had a very special gift for us, her painting of us the night we got engaged.

It is still very special

The flower girl gifts

The Bachelor Pary. Gary had a foot washing ceremony for Dustin... not sure what happened after that!

This is what I wrote in my journal that day:

"The day before tomorrow. THE tomorrow. The tomorrow I marry Dustin. I am surprised at how nervous I have been! I am trying to be more excited than nervous... I figured I would be calm, I figured wrong. Father be with me today, fill me Holy Spirit. Give me your calm, your peace, your patience, your love..."

And this is what I wrote in the journal I had been keeping for Dustin that was part of his wedding gift. The journal that held a years worth of my thoughts and prayers for the man I would marry.

"The night before we marry. I feel like the little girl on 'Father of the Bride'. The little girl in her father's memory, that little girl telling him that she was getting "Maaarrieeeed!" She was so little, so young. I feel as such. So young, a little scared. Ok, very scared, but extremely hopeful of what the future holds for us. I am nervous too. About walking down the isle, balling my eyes out, seeing you standing there waiting for me, my beloved. After that I know I will be fine... the moment I can look into your eyes. This, the moment we have waited for for so very long. But it has been worth it, all of the trouble and struggle and heart ache. I love you Dustin. I love you with a heart that is purely yours. I pray we learn to love each other more and more as Christ loves us. I know we will fail many times. But as Daddy encouraged me tonight, we must never stop, never give up, never quit. "And let endurance have it's perfect result, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." This is what God is showing me life is all about. Persevering. Enduring. Marriage will require both. Yes, I am scared. But I trust God. And I know that He has chosen you for me. I am excited to be your wife and your helper. I love you with all of my heart.

Your almost-wife (in 17 hours), Mika'l

Hmm... almost prophetic.

An Anniversary Post (3)

In lieu of our 9^th anniversary: A celebratory post, to remember, to give thanks for, to reflect and of course post pictures!

 I remember it as if it were yesterday. His form walking slowly, deliberately across the church parking lot. Head down, hat on, arms lanky, hands already calloused. I was watching through the window, I knew he was walking towards me, to find me. And I couldn't breathe. I was matching hot dogs to buns. Why was it so hot all of a sudden? I meant to get a way, to catch my breath but I couldn't move so there I stood with hot dog in hand, staring as he walked in. He smiled. Then I smiled, my heart beating faster. I think it was then that I knew.

I loved this boy-man.

I had been fighting it for so long. Not sure if it was right. I had told him I wasn't ready to be committed to a relationship. I needed to focus on God and His call for my life. I was prayerful. I was scared. I had been told not to. So how do I ignore this? This feeling that controlled my every thought, and now my very breathing?

I remember sitting next to him that night, very aware of his closeness, his smile, his smell. I remember praying. God, help me to trust you, with these feelings, with my life, with his life, I want to obey, help me to trust...

When I think back to those moments I am reminded of God's care and of His providence. Even then he was preparing us for something greater.

I have found that same prayer on my lips so many times these last 9 years. In the moments of not knowing, not understanding, wishing it were different... God help me to trust... I want to obey.. help me...

And He has. He has been faithful to carry us in the times of darkness, to hold us up when we wanted to give up, to whisper, I'm here, when we felt abandoned and Just wait, when we knew this couldn't be 'it'.

Several months ago a dear friend asked me, "Do you view your marriage as a blessing? Can you be thankful for it?"

In my answer I saw my heart. God had carried me so far, yet still I had not yet fully surrendered to what I did not understand... His providence... His perfect plan for our lives... His heart for His people.

God has used that simple question to transform my heart and turn it towards my husband and towards my marriage in such a sweet, miraculous way. I could not write these posts if it were not so.

I can honestly say that God has brought Dustin and I to a very sweet place in life, with each other. I am even saying that after a little spat we had last night! Oh how thankful I am!

It has taken a long time, but God is faithful even to the most wayward of hearts. What I had to realize was that God had been working the whole time. Not only working, he had been in my very midst, a vital part of what was happening in and around me. Before time He had chosen to use what would become my biggest idol (my marriage) to break my ideal of how life and God worked together.

I thought I had to protect Him from all of the bad and ugly, to separate Him from it. What I am learning is that God chooses to use the "foolish things of the world to shame the wise; He chooses the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chooses the lowly things of this world and the despised things - and the things that are not - to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. It is because of Him..." (1Cor.1:27-30a)

I am the foolish, I am the weak, I am the lowly, the despised, the broken, the blind, the crippled.

And through the pain, the suffering, the questioning, He was calling me to something more, something greater. Just as he does each of us, my friend.

God has given me new sight. He has allowed me to see some of the purpose in it all, an unpromised blessing I do not take for granted.

Refreshment from repentance - Acts 3:19-20

Eternal glory that far outweighs my troubles - 2 Cor. 4:17

Comforting others with the comfort I have received from God - 2 Cor. 1:4

Post - abortion ministry

Submitting to God, resisting the devil, him fleeing - James 4:7

The peace of Christ ruling - Colossians 3:15

The word of Christ richly dwelling - Col 3:16

Going to Ukraine to encourage women

Bearing with one another, forgiving one another and being the recipient of - Col 3:13

Being met by God - Philippians 4:19

The eyes of my heart being enlightened to the HOPE to which I have been called - Eph.1:18

Learning to truly love my husband

Seeing Christ's power being worked out in my life - Eph. 1

Having proof that He works out everything in conformity with the purpose of His will - Eph. 1:11

Finding contentment in the midst of discontentment

Fulfilling the law of Christ through bearing another's burden - Gal 6:2

Being Free - Galatians 5:1

Being restored to grace - Galatians 3:3; 4:8-9,15; 5:1

Having the opportunity to show my children what grace looks like in the every day.

God working - John 5:16

Watching my son walk with the same gait of his father

A heart of flesh instead of stone - Ezekiel 11:19

Sowing tears and reaping songs of joy -Psalm 126:5

Being set free - Ps. 117:5


Forgiven, healed, redeemed, crowned, satisfied - Ps. 103

Seeing beauty in the un-beautiful

Being given a crown of beauty instead of my ashes - Isaiah 61

Marriage becoming a blessing...

An Anniversary Post (2)

In lieu of our 9^th anniversary: A celebratory post, to remember, to give thanks for, to reflect and of course post pictures!

Today I want to begin with a section of the book, The Horse and His Boy by C.S. Lewis. A strange way to start you might think. Hopefully you will see just how strange things can be.

Shasta is the boy. At this point in his life he is quite tired and lost, figuratively and literally. He is tired because he has been running and running and for all of his young life. He is lost because he hasn't quite found his way. He is tired of being tired and he is tired of being lost and is feeling quite sorry for himself at the moment.

So he begins to cry.

He thinks himself to be alone. You can hear him sniffle as he wipes his nose. Why he must be “the most unfortunate boy that ever lived in the whole world!” Then out of the darkness he hears a voice. The voice asks him to share what's troubling him...

~~~*~~~

"And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the Tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis.

And then the Voice answers.

“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.

“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.

“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.

“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two the first night, and –“

“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”

“How do you know?”

“I was the lion.”

And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued.

"I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”

“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?”

“It was I.”

“But what for?”

“Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no-one any story but his own.”

“Who are you?” asked Shasta.

“Myself,” said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again “Myself,” loud and clear and gay: and then the third time “Myself,” whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all around you as if the leaves rustled with it. " (p. 157-159)

~~~*~~~

When I first heard this on Focus on the Family's Radio Theater I was struck deep. I had been Shasta. "Why I must be the most unfortunate girl in the whole world!" I had thought. 

I had been struggling with the fact that my story wasn't as pretty as some. Things hadn't gone the way I had planned. And I was fighting it, hard. It is still a struggle. I would be lying if I said that it wasn't. I would love to be able to say that our marriage is blameless, without blemish, we as parents always respond in a loving way, that we take every sin moment and turn it into a gospel moment.

But it is not so. We have experienced deep hurt, deep pain, deep regret. Out of the pain we react. We have to choose to forgive every day, to let each other off the hook, to extend grace. And sometimes we don't. And it's ugly. And oh the shame.

"I tell no-one any story but his own.”

This was what first struck me.

My story... no one else's story... He only tells me my story...

Ahhh... My story isn't supposed to look like your story. My story was written this way on purpose with a purpose.

I heard it again soon after that, but from a different source. God has a way of whispering it again and again until we are willing to accept, to carry it, hold it. Come to love it.

This time it was through the study of Esther. This precious woman had been asked a lot from God. And it wasn't fair. First she is taken from her homeland, stripped of her Jewish heritage and nationality, then her parents are ripped from her, most likely murdered. She is left to be raised by her male cousin. And just when life started to settle down, she was taken from the only one who loved her and was thrown into a harem with hundreds of other young, scared,  defenseless girls who she would be forced to go up against in a beauty contest. She was groomed for 12 months to be a sex object and became just that. She was chosen by the king to be his queen on the basis of her looks. And just when she had broken in her crown, she almost lost it, and her head, forced once again, to go before the king. Un-summoned.

See she had been called by God to plead for the lives of her people, the Jews.

It would be easy to look at Esther's life and justly say, that's not fair. How unfortunate. How could THAT be God? It's just too hard. Life. Is. Just. Too. Hard.

And it is.

But then we hear the Voice coming out of the darkness... "I was the Lion."

Nothing happens by chance, dear one. God has given you your story for a purpose. He sees you in the midst of the dysfunction, the sin, the pain. He is the One guiding you, protecting you, leading you to the broken places so that He can raise you up. Restore. Heal. Mold. Use...  and all for His glory and purpose.

The problem is, we try to amputate our history from our destiny. *  And we can't. We walk in shame instead of grace. We try to cover it up instead of allowing it to be exposed by the Light. Our story will always be our story and that is exactly how God meant it to be.

Remember, God sees you past, present and future. The experiences He gives you whether they be painful or pleasant is so that you can fulfill the destiny He has for you. It's not just for you. What He has given you, pain and all, is meant to be shared. If we kept it to ourselves then what good is it? How else is God going to use you?

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort."

(2Corinthians 1:3-7)

The key to fulfilling your destiny is transparency. Otherwise what did it all mean?  * It's scary I know. But "who knows but you have come to (this) position for such a time as this?"  (Esther 4:14) Who knows? God knows. And He wants you to know that He knows. Is it enough?

Ok, still not finished, might need a few more tries!


*Taken from the Beth Moore Study: Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman.

An Anniversary Post (1)

In lieu of our 9^th anniversary: A celebratory post, to remember, to give thanks for, to reflect and of course post pictures!

I love hearing a good love story. It's fun seeing how God brings two people together time and time again. It never gets old.
But what does get old is hearing only the 'good' side of the couple-story. I'm not looking for the 'dirty' side by any means. I only mean that life is messy! People are too! And God loves to get ahold of that kind of story!!
So excuse me please for stepping out of the white satin-lace mold for a minute. I'd like to get real with you if you don't mind.

The thought of planning a wedding made me want to take a nap. I was never one of those who had everything mapped out in a fussy wedding scrapbook since childhood. In fact, I ordered my wedding dress (and bridesmaids dresses) from a magazine. I'm sure I drove those helping to organize and plan our wedding absolutely wedding crazy! My answer to their questions was always some form of, "Really, I don't care." We had even seriously considered the idea of eloping!

What I had dreamed about the most was what my life would be like after the wedding. It was going to be wonderful. Perfect! Why, I had been a good girl. I deserved a good life, void of any problems. I followed God with my whole heart. I desired His will for my life and marriage...
or did I?

What God was about to show me was that His view of 'ideal' and my view of 'ideal' was very different. I honestly believed if you followed and obeyed God with all of your heart, mind, soul and strength and pretended you didn't have any problems, He would bless you in ways that would make life... well easy, pleasant, holy.
It has taken a long time but finally I am able to see how wrong I was.
And how thankful I am.

  "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing POWER is from God and NOT from us." (2Cor4:7)
God gives each of His children treasures and they are often hidden in jars of clay.

When I first came across this verse I didn't fully understand what it meant. Jars of clay? Isn't that the name of some singing group?

Let me share with you what my commentary says: "This treasure, the gospel, jars of clay. Treasures were concealed in clay jars, which had little value or beauty and did not attract attention to themselves and their contents. Here they represent Paul's human frailty and unworthiness. 'All-surpassing power is from God and not from us.' The idea that absolute insufficiency of human beings reveals the total sufficiency of God pervades this letter."

God has something to show us through our frailty and struggles as humans. He knows the idols of our hearts. And often turns those idols into jars of clay. For me, it was (and is) my marriage and my own self-righteousness. And if God was to have full ownership of my heart He would have to get down and dirty. So that is exactly what God did. He began to slowly chip away my ideal to show me His. And to also show me his all-surpassing power.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."
2 Corinthians 4:16-18

I think I am going to need a couple more posts to fully explain what is going on in my mind and heart. I know I am risking a lot here. But I don't want to risk being misunderstood. More than anything I want you to hear how much I love my husband (yes, I can say that now!), how thankful I am to be his wife, and how thankful I am for God lovingly and patiently revealing more of Himself to me through the sin and pain of this Christian life. He truly is a great and mysterious God!!   

A Conversation with a Five yr. old

“Mom! Can you go faster!?” asked Deacon. “Why are you stopped?”

“I am stopped because the car in front of me is stopped.”

“Can't you just GO!?”

“Not unless you want me to hit the car in front of me.”

“But I want to get home!” exclaimed the five yr. old.

“We are going home, Deacon.”

“But I want to get home NOW!”

“I know you do. But if I go we would get hurt. Do you want to get hurt?”

“No, but I just want to be home right now. Why do we have to drive?”

“Because this is how we get home.”

Finally traffice began to move and we were going a little faster.

“We are almost home, Deacon.”

“Why can't you just go faaassteeerrr!!”

“If I go faster we could die. Do you want to die?”

“No, but I want you to go ffaaasssteeerr?”

“Either we go the speed limit and live or go faster and die. Which do you want?”

“I just want to be home. Now.”

Hmm...

When we FiNALLY got home I began to ponder the conversation (if that's what it was) I had in the car with Deacon.

I am such a child in so many ways. I bug my Father in the very same way.

“But I want it NOW! Why can't I have what I think I need? Why are we moving at this slow pace? Can't you see that I'm waiting? Are we there yet?”

And really what I don't realize is that if we did move faster, it could be dangerous. Not the way God wanted it. I'd miss something really important along the way. Something totally worth waiting for.

Maybe I should start looking out the window...

You Know You're a Homeschooler When...

(clockwise) deacon at the zoo; olivia as guest reader to her kindergarten class; camping; t-ball;

 waiting for the train; levi pretending to be jaq-jaq; olivia in her garden planting beans

I am going to start this, but I would LOVE for you to finish it!

We have just completed our first Homeschooling year!! Whoot Whoot!!

Although I myself was homeschooled I have learned quite a lot about what it means to be a homeschooler this year. It's different being the mom/teacher.

learning to tell time; buy one get one; multiplication; 2 hermit crabs fighting;

 reading with Mo-Mo; pancake decorating party; levi building

We have shared many tears, much laughter, frustration, elation... the whole gamut! And I am glad to be saying WE ARE DONE!!! (with a guttural ugh!)

But I can also honestly say, I can't wait for next year!! There is so much I am looking forward to changing, adding and tossing!

So I was kinda thinking back over this last year and some of the funny moments that have made us uniquely a homeschooling family. I'm sure we will continue to add to the list through the years. Here is where we began...

You Know You're a Homeschooler When...

levi and olivia on the train, levi saluting; deacon and our first homegrown zucchini;

levi in the out field;deacon's hands just like daddy's; deacon fixing just like daddy;

deacon learning special exhibit words; olivia and her binoculars;

entering St.Helena's Episcopal for children's chapel

... you pry two workbooks apart to find they have been cemented together by syrup from that morning's breakfast of waffles

... you use a big chocolate chip cookie from BaBa to teach fractions

... you know exactly how many days are in a school year (180) and how many more you have left to go! (0)

mommy and livie on a date; veggie face w/ home grown squash and zucchini;

jaq-jaq; livie writing; deacon proud finished math; at the library;

 deacon turning 5; the 3 making grilled cheese

... you catch a nap while listening to a young reader (I soon learned to fold laundry to stay awake)

... you are able to help put together a puzzle, trace letters, do a math problem and stir the macaroni at the same time

... you catch a lizard and then catch a fly and sit quiet and still to watch the lizard eat the fly (and he does)

... your photo copier becomes your new best friend

at the beach looking for critters; levi daddy eyes; garden; deacon looking for shells;

mommy and boys on a date; deacon waiting to bat; levi with the geo board; livie always creating

... you use jelly beans to teach multiplication

... you go to the beach and ask yourself, "How can I count this as a day of school?"

... making cream of 'weak' becomes a math lesson

... you can wipe a butt and answer a math question at the same time

... you spend an hour on a lesson in body language before you begin a lesson in the English language

easter, sweaty after the hunt; olivia working out a math problem; ruby learning letters;

fancy dinner on piano bench for 3; levi's smile; reading the word while stirring the breakfast;

 deacon in the out field; livie and the egg pinata

... you get asked by your five yr. old, "How come you wear pajama's every day?"

... you cry tears when your child reads his first word

... you help sound out words while taking a shower

... you learn what being patient really means

deacon 'fishing'; downtown; livie reading in old books store; girls day downtown;

deacon up to bat; girls day; beach day; more reading

... you find a child working figures buried under blankets

... you use jump ropes, rubber gloves, painter's tape, buttons, and squirt guns for school

... you see a math sheet slipped between the door and jam while trying to have a private moment in the bathroom

... you see child/parent relationships begin to heal

the easter egg hunt at baba's; and daddy holding the empty resurrection biscuit

... you learn to slow down

... dancing in the kitchen is counted as P. E.

... you see your child for the first time... again

... you can answer Yes! to the question, "Is it worth it?"

missing teeth; napping; first lost tooth; 3 musketeers

So, what do ya got?? I'd love to hear from you...

Addicted

Hello
my name is  Mika'l

And I am an addict...

It's been a habit of mine for a long time. Ever since I was able to process a thought. I like to keep it hidden. Secret. In the quiet recesses of my mind and heart. At some point each day I like to bring it out. Stroke it. Gaze upon it. Sometimes I smile, sometimes I cringe.

It is such a part of me. It's hard to decipher. Separate. Determine what it is and what it is not. At times it is everything. It strangles me. I cannot breath. And then I breath IT in. Aspirate. My lungs begin to burn. I cough. Then choke. How can my lungs be so full, yet so empty? I asphyxiate.

Only then do I seek for clean air. Only then does it stop working for me. I come down off my high. I am now full of regret. I see the damage I have done. I see what IT has done to me. A tangled web that I jump into.

On purpose. It isn't a disease. It is intentional. A condition, maybe. Do I suffer from it? Yes. But am I responsible? Yes. I am the victim and the villain. What I need is a Victor. That part I can never play.

What is my habit of choice? You might wonder. Is it not obvious? Does it not plaster itself on my forehead even while I try hard to keep it hidden? Does it not seep through my smile as puss does through it's scab? Can you not see it cancerously eat away at my flesh? As I try unsuccessfully to cover it up with more of myself.

Have I not hurt you in the process? If there was ever a stupid question, that is. My tears flow down my face. Salt running down my neck burning, dropping, landing on my regret. I see a trail winding recklessly behind me. Littered. The fallen ones that have fallen by my own hand. My own sword. My habit has now become my weapon.

But wait. I see another trail. This one straight. In front. It lies ahead of me as I stand there staring down at my next step. My feet are dirty. No. Dirty makes them sound clean. I am ashamed. My habit, this addiction, it runs deep. It leaves a stain. I stand, bent. Staring.

I must keep moving. Down this path, there is no luxury of stopping. I bend over and I start scrubbing. I use the sand to try and remove the refuse that I have been trodding in for so long. But I only manage to grind it deeper into my skin. I take another step. I look back. I see three sets of foot prints treading behind me just as filthy as my own. I am hopeless. I not only revel in my addiction, I inflict wounds. Wounding doesn't satisfy, so I lead them now too. Down this tragic path of failure.

As I walk I inhale, exhale, it takes me there. If I can't get rid of it, why not embrace it. If I can't not wound, why not wound deep. If it's leading I'm now doing why not lead as a pioneer? Fearless.

Fearless?

Now I am fear itself. I am shaking. Trembling. My foot wavers. I stumble. I feel something different. It is not dry. It is not filth. It does not burn or scratch at the bottom of my feet. I have no point of reference. I do not know what this is. I am not only fear. I am now scared. I pull harder the rope that has bound me to the other three. Making them trip. The younger one falls and is now bleeding. I keep pulling. Tighter.

I feel it again. I look down hoping to find a name. Something to tell me what it is I am feeling. Is it water? I have only heard of this. I think, somewhere. It is a strange sensation. Relief yet pain.

First a puddle. The shallow water has turned to mud. My toes squish in it. Before I can stop myself I laugh at the sensation. I look down at my feet. They are still covered and I cannot see them. I only feel the difference.

I begin to squint. It is so bright. My eyes begin to water... more water. I brush away the wetness with my shoulder. My hands still hold the small hands trailing behind me. It becomes brighter and I wait for blindness. But instead I begin to see.

My foot lands in another puddle. This one bigger. The water is changing color. It is no longer black stained by the blackness of my feet. I hear splashing behind me, I do not have to look, I know it is the three that follow.

The brightness now is like the sun blazing strong. I feel warmth. The warmth of hope. I am afraid but I am no longer fear. I am trembling but I am no longer shaking. There is water on my face, but it no longer burns like the salt before it.

I inhale. Is this air? I have never known it before now. It must be, because I am breathing. I exhale and I feel the bonds loosen. The bonds of my addiction. The stripes are still embedded in my skin where they once restricted, spiraled around me. I feel the tenderness, I am now vulnerable.

I look down at my feet. They are no longer black, but I am surprised by this new color. I wanted them to be clean, the color of my skin. But it will never be so. They are red. Because the water was not water it was blood.

Frightened, I stare. But this time I stare ahead. I do not understand this new thing. This new feeling of freedom, so I search for the answer in front of me. There is now a shadow in front of the sun. But the shadow is becoming brighter as it come closer still. It overtakes the sun, this blazing star that gives light to all, it seems small and dark, no longer does it give forth warmth, it feels cold.

I look harder, searching and I see another trail, trailing on top of the trail I walk on. It is a trail of red. First droplets that slowly turn into a cleansing stream. It comes from hands that are open, beckoning, calling. Closer. I hear a name. My name. Is this my name? I feel a rush breathed into me. I inhale. I am new.

My eyes travel from the flowing hands to the now flowing feet. These feet are red too. And the place of flowing is marked with a name. And I am pierced through with a knowing. This knowing. How do you use words to explain THIS knowing. It was my name written there. It was my name.

I now leave footprints of red where I once left black. The three trailing behind me will too.

I have met the Victor.