|like a child chasing moonbeams
I’ve been dashing through my night
grabbing back those bits of dreams
that suddenly took flight
opening ever wider
my eyes begin to see
past the mist
those hidden bits
that do belong to me!
|with faith and fervent passion
somewhere deep, deep down inside
a princess kissed back into life
begins now to arise
and, trembling, in my eagerness
I shake off every shadow
running back onto the path
that’s brightly straight and narrow
|the road over the mountain
that is full of bumps and stones
the road that leads through valleys
on it’s journey back to home –
and, yes, with breathless wonder
while considering the cost
I set forth on my pilgrimage
TO TAKE BACK WHAT WAS LOST!
I was literally born a ‘grown-up’. Upon his return from World War Two, my forty-year old father decided he wanted a daughter and, within the year, I arrived to colour his post-war world. My mother was a brilliant career woman and I admired her from a distance, while my grandmother devotedly cared for me as I grew up. From time immemorial it was my personally assigned task to ‘look after’ my father. This entailed going for unbearably long walks, regularly attending rugby matches and, worst of all, visiting his mother once a week (they spoke Afrikaans, which I didn’t understand!).
As a young girl I was consumed with anxiety … would my mother think I loved my grandmother more than her, or vice versa? Not having brothers or sisters, I was awkward and self-conscious at school and often the object of cruel taunting. Music and reading were my escapes but they only led me deeper into a world of unreality and isolation.
At the age of sixteen I met my first boyfriend who, a few years later, I proceeded to marry. Within a few years, I gave birth to a daughter and subsequently to a son, and it didn’t take too long, now solidly entrenched in my role as wife and mother, to discover that I’d never been a child! Too many years of too much responsibility suddenly catapulted me into an experience of being totally out of control.
I didn’t know who I was but I just knew who I didn’t want to be any more … someone responsible for the world but totally out of touch in terms of her own needs, desires and dreams.
This whole process launched me on my personal search for truth but sadly, on the journey, my marriage broke up and my children were inflicted with the heartbreak of a broken home. Very shortly after the divorce, God
miraculously intervened in my life, as well as in the lives of both of my children and the three of us came into the experience of a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.
So often that’s where the story seems to end, but actually that’s where it really begins! As a young Christian I was enthralled with Christ, zealous to fling myself utterly into His Kingdom purposes. However – on another level – I was totally blinded to the fact that, in a very severe way, I was wounded and desperately in need of inner healing.
While limping along the road of life, I met another limping saint. We married, and of course the idealistic, dreaming part of me visualised a ‘happily-ever-after’! I was soon released into a new learning curve which has proved to be the sort of ‘soul medicine’ that I’d needed all along. God began to show me that as I started to take responsibility for my life, it would change the dynamics of every relationship I was in, including my relationship with Him.
And so I – the one whom from her birth had taken responsibility for everyone else – began the pilgrimage of owning, treasuring and taking responsibility for my own life. It’s been a long journey and the road has indeed led over mountains, through valleys and sometimes, as I’ve been challenged to face losses and grieve them, to walk out of hiddenness and be honest about who I am and what I feel and need. I’ve been tempted to escape back into music and moonbeams … but as I walk with God, the ears of my heart attuned to the God-word that sets me free, moment by moment, day by day, step by step, I’m loosed into the lavish experience of living. Abundant life. Of being. Me … that unique, hand-crafted, God-breathed person that He created and only I can be.
And, although growing is not without pain, I’m utterly, irreversibly committed to the process, willing to pay the price and captivated by the Potter, whose hand holds me, embraces me and fashions me into the fulfilment of His dream.