Étrangères (Foreigner)

"Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." ~Lewis Carroll

(This post was inspired by a post done by the beautiful Jocee at her blog Cupcake Dictionary)

This world is strange to me.

There are times that I walk down the street, and I think, "do I belong here? Is this where I truly fit?"

Because, if i am truly honest...I don't feel normal here.

...but then again, would I want to?

This world has shut out the impossible.

Reality has become defined by the senses, truth by the individual and not by the fact.

I'm a dreamer. Perhaps a bit too much.

But I don't belong here.

Because I believe in the impossible.

I believe in Truth. I believe in Light. I believe in Him.

Six impossible things, you say? Well, here you are.

1. I believe that I am loved, regardless of my broken past.

2. I believe that the King of the universe traded in His crown of gold for a thousand thorns -- for me.

3. I believe He's coming back to take me to His kingdom to reign with Him forever.

4. I believe that, through His blood, my shame is gone...my life is claimed...and my past and future is forgiven.

5. I believe that Death has been overthrown and Hell has been defeated.

6. I believe in Jesus Christ.

Impossible? Most definitely.

But with my God, all things are possible.

And I was right...I don't belong in this world.

... because I was made for another place.

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." ~C.S. Lewis

Neverland

Each man should frame life so that at some future hour fact and his dreaming meet. ~Victor Hugo

In less than five months, I will turn 21.

According to the world, that means I should have turned in my dreams a long time ago...

...packed away my fantasies into a brown leather suitcase and tucked them away at the back of the closet.

The fingers are pointing, the grown-ups are whispering..

"It's time for Wendy to grow up."

But for me, that will never happen.

I simply cannot stop dreaming.

Dreams are what keep me from despair.

When the nights are the darkest they've ever been, when the winds are ice cold and the candles have all burned down...

...it's then that the books come off the shelves.

It's then that my dreams are the brightest.

I refuse to lose myself in cynicism...I refuse to let my heart harden.

I still will reach out for the hand of my Father, whispering, "teach me, Daddy."

I want to always hear the Lion's roar.

So, I will never stop dreaming.

Not at 21. Not at 81. Not at 101.

Not ever.

I can't keep myself from getting older, from shouldering responsibilities...

...from stepping into the real world and making my own place there.

But, in the still of night...

...I do believe in fairies.

"You know that place between sleeping and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always think of you." ~J.M. Barrie

Graduate

Do not follow where the path may lead. Go, instead, where there is no path and leave a trail. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

My little sister's High School graduation was on Saturday.

It was a day of emotion, family, and the passing of the baton from one generation to another...watching the graduation of my baby sister flooded me with pride.

As I watched her and a small cluster of my younger friends walk across the stage and receive their diplomas from their fathers, it was quite the flashback of my own graduation two years ago.

I remember standing against the wall with my closest friends as we prepared for the processional, slowly realizing that my life was about to change forever.

I remember the commencement speech and the mountains of advice given that day from teachers, parents, family, and friends to the class of 2009.

I remember giving my speech, fidgeting with my tassel, crying as I hugged my dad while my diploma passed from his hands to mine.

I remember smiling for endless photos and laughing through my tears as I shared final moments with the people who had shaped my life for the past five years.

But above all else, I remember being gripped by a combination of terror and passionate excitement.

It was the first day of my future, and I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. At that moment, all my dreams seemed so huge...so wonderfully wide and frightening massive.

So this is my word to you -- to HHSW's Class of 2011...to every graduate who has turned their tassel this year...

Be.

Be a man of God. Be a woman of grace.

Be a radical changer of the world.

Be strong and of courage, for the Lord is with you.

Be mighty men and women of valor and love.

Be dreamers. Be faithful. Be passionate.

Be yourself.

But above all,

Be His.

Congratulations Class of 2011.

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings

Gentleman

A gentleman has his eyes on all those present; he is tender toward the bashful, gentle toward the distant, and merciful toward the absent. ~Lawrence G. Lovasik

Where have all the gentlemen gone?

What island have they been exiled to...and can someone send me the coordinates so that I might go and bring them home again?

Someone told them that they were no longer needed in this world...that their age had come and gone.

Someone told them that women were strong and independent -- that we didn't need men to care of us anymore...

...that we could open our own doors, and that a man coming to our defense was nothing more than offensive and sexist.

Someone said that chivalry was dead.

Well, let me tell you this.

They were wrong.

Whoever told Mr. Darcy to dismount his horse...whoever told Prince Charming to toss his crown in the mud...whoever told Orlando to burn his sonnets?

So please, gentlemen, come back to us.

Because there are still ladies in the world...

And we miss you.

We love when you open the door for us, or help us when we drop things, and we will thank you.

We love when you hold out your hand to help us up off the ground after a moment where our grace has fled, and we have stumbled over our own feet.

We love when you treat us with respect instead of just a pair of breasts...just as something to stare at and undress in your mind.

We love when you hug us, tell us we look beautiful, and look us in the eyes when you talk to us.

We love being treated as beloved sisters instead of sex objects and toys to show off.

So, please, come back.

And to those of you who haven't changed -- to those men who love me, respect me, and treat me as precious: I love you, and I am HONORED to call you my friends and brothers.

You are seen.

You are thanked.

And you are loved.

A man may learn from his Bible to be a more thorough gentleman than if he had been brought up in all the drawing-rooms in London. ~Charles Kingsley

Phoenix

"God uses broken things. Broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength. It is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume." ~Unknown

The past is a complicated thing.

So many of us attempt to erase the past...doing our best to clear our slates and start fresh every morning as we arise.

I will admit, I often find myself bogged down in regret for the things I have done in my past.

It's hard to keep from viewing myself as a broken mirror...Pandora's box, opened and poured out on the world in tears and pain...a soiled, tainted dove.

There are times I am overcome with the fear that the flames of my past have burned up any good or worth that could possibly be found in my heart.

And then I remember...

...at the bottom of the box, there still remained hope.

Gold is refined through fire.

Blood has already been poured out.

Death has already been battled and won.

My soul has already been saved.

The past is there for us to remember, to learn, and to grow. If we forget, what good has our pain been?

So, from the ashes, my hope shall spring.

I am His.

I am a phoenix.

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king. ~J. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Théâtre

"Would it be too childish of me to say: 'I want?'; but I do want: theater, light, color, paintings, wine, and wonder..." ~Sylvia Path

I adore the theater.

Those closest to me know that the quickest way to my heart is through the thin cardboard of a ticket stub and the gentle kiss of rose petals against my nose.

I am more than passionate about the arts in general...but there is something so exquisite and breathtaking about the theater. From the time I was twelve years old, it has woven an unbreakable spell over my heart that has yet to break, and I pray it never will.

I love curling into a plush velvet seat, playbill in one hand, my heart pounding with anticipation and excitement as I wait to see what wonders lurk behind the curtains.

I love the soaring orchestra, the heady applause, and the moments that draw me to hysterical laughter and broken-hearted tears in the blink of an eye.

But there is a place in the theater I love more than any other.

Tucked away from the eyes of the public, hidden away behind thick side curtains.

That is my world.

Backstage is the palace to my princess wishes, the closest I will ever get to Narnia.

It's the place where all the magic happens, where adrenaline joins the blood to pump in my veins, and where the smell of sweat and excitement mingle to become intoxicating.

In this corner, my dreams have come to life. I have been to Neverland, stepped into the pages of fairy tales, and seen countless magical moments played out before my eyes.

Last night, I tidied my corner and left it in darkness.

For three months, I will wait and hope and dream...overcome with anticipation...

...before the curtain opens, and the magic comes to life again.

תקומה (Resurrection)

"Now after the Sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to look at the grave. And behold, a severe earthquake had occurred, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled away the stone and sat upon it." ~Matthew 28:1-2

I can only imagine what it was like to wake up on that morning.

The sorrow would have still be so incredibly fresh. The pain would have remained a thudding, almost crushing ache.

...if only they knew.

Because the power was brewing...the war was coming to its glorious conclusion...

...to the point that the world could not contain it for another minute longer.

The ground shook.

The guards collapsed.

The stone was rolled away.

The tomb sat cold. Hollow. EMPTY.

And the angel found his seat upon the overturned door, waiting for those who needed to hear his earth-shattered message.

"Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here...for He is risen, just as He said He would..."

The disbelief would have been incredible, almost impossible for their still-broken hearts to fathom...before it all turned to a powerful, measureless joy.

This morning, I felt powerful, heart-gripping joy.

I cried tears of passionate gratitude and indescribable adoration.

The tomb is empty.

Death has been defeated.

Hell has been overturned.

Death COULD NOT handle Him. The grave COULD NOT hold Him.

My King is risen!

"...she [the White Witch] would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward." ~C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe