art is for you

{via pinterest}

i remember the first time i saw the ocean. i was a little girl, landlocked from birth, with a swimsuit that matched the ocean and short hair hacked by even younger hands. and my soul inhaled the salty air and murmured,

:: i am home. 

it takes diving into a pool and sinking down to rise up into the place He sang into Life. it takes cresting the ocean's wave to even catch a glimpse of His eternal country. there's something powerful about this idea, that it takes deep immersion until all you can see is the Light hovering on the surface of the water from down below.

we are all soul-creatures, made to be seen, 

created to be tenderly cradled and adored, 

yet we tremble at the thought of it.

love like water :: wild rain

so often i wish i had a mermaid tail tucked away in the closet, shimmering and waiting for me to slip inside and dive into the sea :: to return home, in a way, to a place that i never truly held but always flowed through my fingers.

i think it's part of why i've gone back to being an artist in recent days. it was something i had given up after comparing myself to others who were "better" even though all we were was different. i was seventeen when i put down the brush. all it took was an art teacher's slightly raised eyebrow and the words, maybe art isn't for you. 

all i can do is reflect back on words i've written before :: it's those moments in the dark where we wrap our arms around our knees and kneel within ourselves to the waves of crashing Love that threaten to overwhelm us. it's a tremble, not a cringe. it's a breathing, not a hyperventilation. 

{sketch by alexandria for dramaticelegance}

this is for me. and my mermaid soul is seen by the One who wove kelp into my hair and called my soul to love of depths.

there is a seacove of my own, tucked gently beneath the waves at the edge of Aslan's Country, that place that hums a familiar melody and whispers of one day, forever. there in that place is a set of paintbrushes made from the mane of the Lion who gave it up for me to Live freely. 

it's a metamorphosis of sorts, a shedding of the ugly and the embracing of the mantle of glory.  it's stepping away from the shadows that confines my feminine soul into certain boxes that aren't allowed to stand here because it might not be right. 

it's being brave and letting down my hair. He promised to come to us like rain, and like water does He fill my soul to overflowing. 

and this is where i am :: tucked in my cove surrounded by sisters of soul and ocean, the crash of the ocean and the roar of the Lion harmonizing tender. 

because He promised
art is for you,
My mermaid daughter. 

:: kinsman redeemer

{via pinterest}

i wish i could reach down and smear my fingertips with paint and streak them across your eyes so you can see what i see.

i want to look up and count the stars, the ones tucked away in a sacred place that even my own human eyes cannot find them. the ones that were there the night among the piles of honey-toned barley where a whispered exchange passed between the lips of a man and a once-cursed foreign beauty.

spread your cloak over me, for you are my kinsman redeemer. 

and she slept that night on the threshing floor at the bared feet of a man who swore to save her, joining the ranks of the world-forgotten women that reached up and wept to be seen.

she was third of five, this Moabitess who begged for the covering from her saviour-turned-groom. they all bore the familiar shame, the whispers and pointed fingers. they were stamped with an ugly word, one too quickly spoken still two thousand years down the road. but from their blood, oft murmured "tainted," came the Life-Bringer.

:: the One who spoke to the slave in the wilderness, 

who rested hands on the unclean and whispered

dearest daughter

I knew you would not be long...

{via pinterest}

there's a reason that Lewis wrote so often of the breath of the Lion on the face of those He treasured. the wind from the mouth of the Risen One against the cheek of His bride, the whisper in the night that He is coming to bathe me in Light. i am not forgotten.

the rocks on the seashore, grit and earth and dirt

until they are picked up by the fingers of one who knows

and then they are treasures. 

so i'm finding my own place on the threshing floor, under the stars with the moon as a witness, and speaking to the One who is not safe, but oh, so good

spread Your cloak over me, 

just let me touch the hem

// for You are my kinsman redeemer 

Crash

And then, when the Empress ran aground / And my eyes turned blue and green / I heard a gorgeous sound / And that's when it became a dream / When the sky fell in / When the hurricanes came for me / I could finally crash again / And that's how I became the sea ~Owl City, How I Became the Sea

I am a mermaid.

An ocean obsessive.

Ever since I was a tiny girl, vacations at my grandparents' home in Florida spelled one thing for me: a visit to the salty seas that never seemed to end...a variable fairytale for a land-locked Midwestern farm girl who had only Lake Michigan as her large water experience.

The sand between my toes....sand castles to be woven from bits of broken shell and rock..the elusive conch shell to be found and taken home for a salty day reminder.

And there were the waves. The beautiful, powerfully frightening force of nature...the swelling water that rose

and rose

and rose

until it came down with a thunderous crash upon the land, dragging everything back into the depths with each pass of its aquatic fingers.

As this girl grew up, the ocean changed.

No more was it a place to play and race along the shore...now it was a place to dream. To stand on the edge of the shell-scattered sand and letting the sea breeze rustle my hair...it was a place where the voice of my God could echo with the waves.

It was the place to let the mercy crash...

...it was the place to drown.

And even now, as I find myself landlocked once again with my next oceanside visit two months yet to come, my mind drifts seawards.

Rock bottom is the perfect place from which to rise.

The waves are still crashing hard on me....dragging me back into the ocean until I feel as though I might let go and drown without a trace...

...but then I catch His swell.

I do not drown. I crash to the shore...and rise

and rise

and rise

The crystal wave holds me...

...safe in His hand.

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, Nor will the flame burn you. “For I am the LORD your God, The Holy One of Israel, your Savior..." ~Isaiah 43:2-3

(Guest posting over at Love August today. You can find me here.)