“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.” Psalm 139:14
She has had a direction without realizing it,
or rather, articulating it.
For years,
a purpose, a motivation.
Humbly she seeks to capture that,
to shape it before her eyes so that you can see too,
so that she knows where she’s going.
“Fearfully and wonderfully made,” she says to herself,
and the words “full well” swell up on her tongue,
spilling over gracefully as she writes them down.
The words on the page draw her in
and push her out—
in asking questions,
out with new ideas—
She is intrigued by the concept of concrete words
representing abstract thought...
To do with myself what is right for such a creation.
To do with myself what is right.
Like an old film reel clicking away on a screen before an empty room
so her memories come.
Full of glad faces,
a wholesome childhood,
good feet to walk and stand upon.
“Do you regret?” you wonder.
“No, I cannot,” she replies.
“Sometimes, it hurts…
But so does the sand that rubs against me when I swim in the ocean.”
Her voice is soft—not quiet, soft.
One has had a successful journey when she can look back and see
she would not have gone any other way.
“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will counsel you and watch over you.” Psalm 32:8
She learned from Christian teachers
to put one foot in front of the other
to move forward,
never sideways.
To appreciate beauty,
and to create it.
She did well, which bothered her at times.
Not quite good enough…
but by whose standards?
Finally, “It is not how you are doing,” someone seemed to say,
“but what you are doing.”
And a tattered road sign appeared to her right:
Keep Going.
“I guide you in the way of wisdom and lead you along straight paths.
When you walk, your steps will not be hampered;
when you run, you will not stumble.” Proverbs 4:11-12
A dream awoke her:
“Do not be afraid,” she heard him say.
She cannot shake it, and she is not afraid.
What is it to be wise, she wondered.
Wisdom is not the mere absence of fear,
but the practice of discretion and compassion.
With a spark of this, she took the bend in the road,
which led her away from home
toward another one…
Crossing borders internal and external,
invisible and plain,
the lines of the road formed one solid streak as they passed by…
“Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.” Colossians 4:5-6
Here, we catch up with her.
It is strange, but she has felt like the outsider
looking in, attempting to find words to fit where she is,
to ask and answer the questions.
She has always wanted to give words
and her love for them—
not simply the letters, but the way they form a partnership,
a definition.
“Do you see how they connect us?” She is excited.
You can see her chewing on your words,
absorbing your inquisition and throwing back strings of thought.
You challenge her,
and you watch the edges of her eyes settle into a squint
as though she’s trying to cradle the thoughts just a little longer.
They’re not ready,
but they will be.
“Make the most of every opportunity…”
This means the journey is slow,
but to take it faster would be a mistake.
On the way, the way home,
she sees their faces,
those talented minds between youth and adulthood.
She calls them to come along for a year—
maybe less, maybe more—
Where? Where are we going?
If you have to ask, I can tell you only this:
“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path”
On our way home.
