The timing is always all wrong
I knew I couldn’t have this treasure
My heart wonders where I belong
Can I find one of equal measure?

The sky is stormy and gray
I can only wish for the sun
Wait for my moment today
Will I ever find the one?

My mind is a war torn land
And my spirit is calling for you
Will he ever take my hand?
Pulling me up out of the blue

Finding my way has been so hard
Restless nights in my bed
My heart may be bruised and scarred
With endless battles in my head

But I know I can go on now
I’m ready to take on the world
This is my word, this is my vow
Always, forever, the lonely girl

High out of reach the mantra took me to itself
and while I concentrated on my one small word
listening and sounding it in my mind, it dropped
into my heart. Silence is not a void. Within her
realms the Spirit prays, and the Spirit knows
what is the mind of God.

The armies gathered on the vast expanse, poised for battle. Shields were raised, and the blades of their swords glistened in the morning sun. Led by the knights of  Arthur's table, they would be invincible, to fight for king and country..........so we thought. After all, it seemed like every country, mostly Normans and Saxons, wanted to kick Britain's ***.(and still do).

I was seven years old, as best I can remember. The 'vast expanse' was our backyard in that cul-de-sac in Corpus Christi, Texas, back in the 1940's. With 16 kids on that short block, it didn't take long to organize armies in order to re-enact the movie we saw earlier at the Saturday Morning Matinee at the then Ayers Theatre, whether it be about knights of the realm, or a Roy Rogers western.
Bless those days before televsion took its unyielding hold. A time when we could let our imaginations run rampant, making up our own scenarios, emulating our movie heroes, and there were many,  and most of all, "playing outside," something we don't see much of......... *anymore.
No one ever got hurt in those weekend battles. Of course, mom and dad, along with the other parents on that block kept the 'silent' watch on us, intervening only if they felt it was getting too loud or rough. I sit here, in my chair, recallng my dad saying, "At least, if we can hear them, we know where they are."

Our shields and swords were mostly made from poster and cardboard, sometimes rolled up newspapers.

copyright: r.riddle 11-17-2016

You forget that you're good.
You forget that you're kind, and gentle and caring.
People have been so callous with you that you forget that you are not the sum of their mistakes,
and you are not to blame for the damage that was done to you.
You forget.
You forget that you are full of  good intent, that you're thoughtful and creative.
You're so used to being made to feel stupid and selfish that when someone brings out the beauty in you,
all you feel is guilt.
You have a heart of gold.
You would never do to people what they have done to you.
There is a light in you that remains bright even with the layers of charcoal that surround it.
Don't forget.
**Don't forget that you're good.

Pretty (adj):
1. pleasing or attractive to the eye, as by delicacy or gracefulness;
"Pretty" is a word that's been spewed at you since the day you were born,
A social standard set upon you that you had yet to even hear, but it was being used to describe you instantly;
A "pretty little girl", a "pretty face", "pretty eyes", "pretty smile", "pretty outfit",
Did anyone ever stop to wonder if you'd have a pretty soul?
What about the way you could be brought to tears at the thought of shaming homeless people or victims of abuse, how your heart felt like it was ripping out of your chest when you heard about someone who was struggling,
They didn't seem to care that you tested highest in compassion, they just wanted to know where you got your dress from.
As you grew older the adjective turned from an innocent compliment to what seemed like a snide remark,
The word "pretty" began to eat you from the inside out every time it was said
like you should measure your worth in how delicate others find you;
You stopped accepting "pretty" as a compliment when it turned into an adjective that was only associated with girls that were more than average but less than beautiful,
You stopped accepting "pretty" as a compliment when it became an antonym of strong,
like "pretty" girls were things that would break if you talked too loud, as if loving a "pretty" thing could never be synonymous with loving a durable or sturdy or resilient thing.
D.A. Sharp once said
"You weren't meant to be pretty; you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don't let anyone ever simplify you to just "pretty"."
And so when someone kindly placed the word in a sentence referring to you you learned to automatically put it into quotations because they were just trying to be nice,
They didn't know they were reducing you to outer beauty, that "pretty" seemed less like a compliment the more it was said, like people couldn't figure out another way to describe you,
As if God hadn't already intricately woven the threads of your DNA, as if he hadn't perfectly tinted every hair on your head to be its crisp burnt color or hand painted the irises of your eyes,
No, "pretty" could no longer cut it.
Because you had been made for bigger and better things,
Those "pretty" eyes of yours will one day see things that God hadn't originally intended anyone to have to see, and those "pretty" hands of yours will have to pick up the pieces of a heartache that God had never wanted you to know and put them back together, and those "pretty" lips of yours are the same lips that will stand in front of sin and tell it that you have chosen Jesus.
Because "pretty" is fine,
but you have been fearfully and wonderfully made, a masterpiece of the Creator.