She was a peculiar creature. Always seeing the world around her so much different than those she knew. There was so much passion that seethed through every cell of her being, it was impossible to suppress. There wasn’t anything she just saw, it had to be embraced, felt, and ciphered through the portals of her mind. To have a dollar for every emotion she exerted over a stranger whose countenance spoke volumes of a story that was left unread. A radiant blue sky. A broken seashell. A friend’s despair or a child’s accomplishment.  A summer breeze and an Autumn thunderstorm.  The memory that invaded her moment and refused to leave until she acknowledged its place. The song that spoke to that secret place in her heart.

It was a yin/yang way to live. At times the emotions were so elating that life couldn’t seem any better. And other times the heaviness that weighed upon her was unbearable. Nothing was simple. Absolutely everything had to be expressed. It was a risky way of life. There were those precious few that embraced her for all that she was, that looked beyond the surface and warmed themselves from the fires that burned deep within. Some were brave enough to stoke the coals, inspiring her to be more. Then there were those who didn’t understand. Who judged and ridiculed, who felt the need to smolder the fire and snuff out the flame. Ah, the wounds they carelessly carved into such a fragile heart. There were countless times she prayed to the One who had made her – “please change me! My heart can’t bear any more.” Yet she knew that change wasn’t dare worth the connections she would miss, so she would retract her pleadings, and submit  once again to His sovereignty that ruled her world.

She was a hopeful creature. Although life had seemed many of times to treat her like the bastard child, still each day she arose with the insane idea that surely something good would happen. “Look on the bright side” was her motto. Those around her whose world was blackened by anger and bitterness, they would demand that she take off those rose colored glasses! But roses were red, and red was her favorite color.” Life isn’t a fairy tale!” reality would shout, but she liked fairy tales and was she was determined that her ending would be worth every effort she put forth so valiantly.

She lived, she laughed, and she loved. Oh how she loved! Her biggest flaw was that she lacked caution and she gave it all. Whether it was to the stranger at the bank, the friend that her soul was entwined with or to the lover that possessed her heart, she felt like nothing less than a criminal if she dare held back any part of her. It was puzzling to many and brought well meant chastisement at times, but she was driven by a lover that began wooing her before the foundations of the world came into existence, who paid the ultimate price just to call her his own. How on earth could she give any less?

She was a damaged creature. Wounds had left scars that were forever penned upon the pages of her story.  Early in life rejection, loneliness and worthlessness visited her often.  They would come to her like long lost friends and compel her to entertain them. She felt it necessary to hide away within herself, but time, healing and wisdom had taught her it was okay to refuse these unwanted guests and send them back to the crevice they belonged in. Her scars seemed to attract kindred spirits and somehow in the intricate plans of eternity, they became beautiful. She no longer hid them nor displayed them, she just let them remain for whatever purpose her Creator allowed them to be imparted. Her heart would ache when she would encounter familiar wounds lingering in the presence of others. A need would rise up in her like a gladiator to fight and conquer those desolate enemies and impart strength and value to another weary, tattered soul.

She was everything that she was, nothing more and nothing less. Like the potter molds his clay, all that had came to pass had molded her. She had a peace that had fought its way through chaos. A hope that had bore the test of sadness and despair. Beauty, that had somehow through the act of enormous grace, been formed from ashes and a strength that came rushing like a mighty wind when weakness threatened to take her captive. She was confident that she was nothing, yet in a plan that was formed before the foundations of the world came into existence, she was everything and that was all she knew.