I set out on a journey back home. I don’t know how I wandered so far from it but I did. I never thought I would. I had always stayed close to it for fear of the wolves. And yet somehow I found myself being devoured. Despite the efforts my soul had taken for protection, it seemed the enemy found his way within the gates and I was abducted away from the inside. Numbed by the culture of scandal. Justified by the toxic feminine muses. Caught up in the cult masculinity. It didn’t matter that I was an innocent. The Accuser made sure he could accuse. I became a willing victim torn asunder by the needle of revenge, lust and longing. My dignity stripped with every hit to the bloodstream. I became addicted to my abusers. Until one day I cried out. And my Rescuer found me.
I realized I was good at setting the storyline while completely inept at building the character. Love to be true must be still to be found. I was chasing after love, rather than letting myself be found by it. I was performing to build up my own worth rather than letting others prove to be worthy of it. Even when enchanted, a magic mirror tells the truth. If you are willing to hold it before you and listen.
Still I linger, and I hunger for this epic journey of adventure that somehow reveals the glory and the wonder of it all – and the One; meanwhile fretting if I will prove myself fit to endure it – or bow before Him. Is it just another hit? Another stroke of the pen, a needle in the arm, or does its manifestation signal somehow the truth that’s laid within from the beginning that we are each wired for love, to be found. To be known. To not be merely imitators but to be receivers of True Love’s kiss.
I obscurely sorrow. The ages before me seem to swell like a tidal wave threatening to drown me and yet I cannot move my feet from the shore. In fact, I feel drawn to it as one compelled to some great destiny that will not reveal itself until the moment of its dawn and nevertheless must sacrifice everything to embark upon such a heroic journey – even to my death. Shall I feel the kiss upon my lips or only the longing of the wind upon my face, only Heaven knows. And yet, I am content in this unrest. Caught between the now and not yet. Adrift and yet firmly anchored in the hope that by living each day’s troubles I will meet one morning with that Day’s dawn. And therein lies the magic. The essence of life’s purpose. The central thesis to our story: love to be true must be found – waiting patiently with all hope in all meekness and perfect humility until the day dawns and the shadows flee.
“Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12
Some inspiration 🎶 for your journey home, friends, wherever you are He is near: Song of Solomon 2:17 and 4:6 – Turn, my Beloved, come away – Dance with Me https://youtu.be/UpbKXiOGbRY?si=eYf-pzlZc0JWi2vc
אני לדודי ודודי לי
Ani L’Dodi V’Dodi Li
