Two miles is what it took
to hear that still small voice.
Two more miles is what it took
to realise that she needed to listen rather than run.
In that four miles were over 8000 steps,
little and big,
hard and soft,
energising yet exhausting,

The day had been long,
her soul craved the lake air.
She retreated to a quiet place
hoping that she could get her mind to still.
She doubted that He would speak wisdom,
as she has been a stubborn girl.
But she tried so very hard,
to listen, that is,  
and when she stopped running to catch both her breath and mind,
she was smacked with the love that only a father can give.
A taste of the freedom that she once had,
yet craved even more deeply than before.

He showed her great things,
her Father did,
allowing her to reflect on the moments when he had been faithful.
He emphasised the journey,
rather than the destination.
After He was finished,
she stood still and wept.
Agape love,
it is hard to receive.
With her music silenced and her running feet stilled
she walked back to the starting line,
retracing her steps.
Only this time it was different.
This time she allowed her Father to hold her hand,
as she was reminded that she was not alone.
Is never alone.

Her frame exposed from the way her dress hugs her body
leads her to feel that oh too familiar feeling
of disgust, of judgment, of guilt, of shame.
This day only comes once a year,
yet she allows the demons to dwell in that pretty head of hers.
Unable to shake the thoughts of deceit
she continues to smile.
She dances.
She laughs.
She dances some more.
The ceiling spinning, the lights flashing, the floor moving
she begins to fall.
Her figure has been wasting away for a while now,
food being a foreign object to her frail self.
Had she been told that she was beautiful growing up,
had she been told that she was worthy,
had she been told that she was loved,
had she been told that she was wanted,
maybe things would be different.
Maybe.

People surround her as she lies on the floor.
They know.
They know her secrets.
Exposed and vulnerable she comes back to the surface,
surrounded by the ones who love her for her strength, her patience,
her resilience, and her friendship.

One night.
It was all she had wanted.
One night to feel beautiful.
One night to feel free.
One night to let her walls down and be.
What she failed to realise was that tonight gave her all of those things.
Exposed, she entered the next step of her journey to self discovery.
She began her journey to health and healing,
knowing that in the ugliness she is beautiful
and in the tears that flow she gains freedom,
and that her sisters in Christ see her as God see's her:
a unique, fragile piece of art.

The pattern remains the same,
doors slamming and shouts of shame
resound from inside her wild soul,
yearning for the cruise control.

The cries echo two blocks down
as he begins taking off her pink night gown.
Innocence lost at five years old
the memories are too strong to withhold.

New love comes yet the walls remain high
nights end with not one eye dry.
She prays that her innocence would be restored
as she falls on her knees and cries to the Lord

And he answered her cry,
"Child, you are precious in my eyes.
there is no need to apologise.
For you are pure and worthy in my sight,
I'm here to restore your wings for flight

A softened heart will get you through,
past all the pain that he caused you.
Then there will stand an open door
guiding you to the one who adores
your smile, your laugh, the songs that you sing,
the one who withholds no good thing.
Come, my child, come
you are my chosen one."

I know.

I know today is looming larger
Than the lump in your throat
That you swallowed last night as you
Stood in the shower,
Trying to wash away the feeling
Of everything-is-going-wrong
And replace it with whispers of
It's no big deal
You don't want them to know that
It hurts
Because then the questions will come
As you press your lips together
And blink back the tears that scream
I do not want to be here today.
But even louder is the whisper in your heart saying
You did this last week
You can do it again.
Maybe it's the dead of night right now and that's ok.
Because there is something beautiful
About the night sky
The infinite amount of stars
Match the amount of times you keep trying
The fact that it never ends
seems as impossible as making it through today
But here's a secret; you aren't alone.
You aren't the only shower-crier  
Please stop for a second      
Reach your hand through your warm skin
And find your heart, where it beats without question.
Tie the beats to your fingers so that you don't forget who you are.
You were created by the same man
Who made the stars.
Not cut from any pattern.
Made from the strongest materials.                    
Today is hard, I know.
But you can open your eyes.
The sun will rise soon enough, but you might as well stargaze while you're waiting.
I know you will be ok.