mistersmith_tm: (smith cu)
[personal profile] mistersmith_tm

God changed my life. Actually, His Voice did.

I don't mean changed in a church way. Not in a born again way, either. That requires a leap of faith. Some kind of spiritual epiphany. And it doesn't always mean a change for the better. I've seen innocents die at the hands of the Born Again because of their unbelief. They think they carry the Word of God.

But they don't. I know. Because I carry it. Not in my heart or in my soul. In my head. The Voice speaks to me. It tells me things. Sometimes things I don't want to hear. Things I don't want to know. Not every day. Not all the time. It's not a constant dialogue. It doesn’t work that way. But even when it nothing to say, in the silence I know that it's there. Waiting to Speak. Waiting for me to Listen.

To obey.

I didn't have an epiphany. I didn't have a leap of faith. On the worst day of my life – the last day of my life -- I jumped off of a bridge. I was looking for an end to the years of misery and hardship and pain. I wasn't looking for God.

But He was looking for me.

~ ~ ~




I thought I was dreaming. Or sleepwalking. The night that I saw her for the very first time. Actually saw her.

I didn't know who she was. Not at first. I only knew that she was beautiful. So very beautiful. She took my breath away. My heart and my soul, too. I didn't realize it then. Funny that. You'd think you'd know right away when you've fallen in love.

She came at night. Because it was safe. Everyone was asleep. She thought she could come to the temple unnoticed and leave just as quietly.

I thought the temple was empty. And that I was the only one awake. That's when I saw her. When she thought she was alone. Where no one could see.

There was something . . . lost . . . about her. I could feel her sadness when she looked at the portrait on the wall. Her longing. Her fear of disappointment. The way she looked at the painting . . . the way she reached out to touch the cherub it showed, with butterfly wings so close to her own . . . wings that were her own. That's when I knew who she must be. That's when I understood what she was doing there in the dark of Bliss' temple. It was in her eyes. The cautious hope that here was what she'd been longing for. A lost brother. Her birth mother and father. Her family.

My heart went out to her.

It's in her keeping still.
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July 2006

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