Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Part B: Metaphor

A continuation from Part A: Metaphor.

Amanda flung herself back onto her bed, relishing the cushion of her soft, white pillow, her body heavy with grief and emotional pain, her soul weary from battle.  Her forehead creased, her eyes shut tight...

Open or closed, it didn't matter.  Amanda could only see one thing... darkness.  6 months ago, this darkness enveloped her life with sudden blindness, it welcomed her every morning, followed her throughout each day, and swallowed her whole again each night... Frustration and fear swirled around inside her. The life she lost... gone. When sorrows like sea billows roll*...

She can still hear the voices downstairs.  You shouldn't push her so hard!  She needs to be pushed!  She needs time.  She's had time! She has to fight her way through this!  Her shins throbbed with pain, her elbow, the bumps and bruises from her efforts today, the cut on her hand from the broken picture frame.  Another day of progress? or failure?  She couldn't be sure.

Fighting to live again after blindness was easier said than done.  Even in her own home, she didn't manage very long without falling.  She hated being dependent on others.  Her independence stolen from her.  Her pride and stubbornness were constantly at war with her fears and doubts.  Fears about the future, letting go of the past...  Is it possible?  Is it truly possible to live again after blindness and function in total darkness?

Exhausted from the days efforts and embarrassed by her weaknesses, Amanda allowed the tears to flow in the privacy of her bedroom.  She cried quietly as tears of pain and agony flowed down the sides of her face, wetting the pillow beneath her head, as the voices grew quieter downstairs.  She could no longer orient herself according to memory.  Everything had changed.  She needed to create a new way of seeing, a new way of living.  But this... she wasn't certain she had the strength to do.

A swift knock on the door and Amanda recognized the familiar sound of her mothers entrance.  She could smell the familiar scent of her shampoo as she sat down beside her, imagine her jewellery, outfit and hair...  It was just one day, honey.  You're doing so well.  

Thanks, Mom, she replied, forcing a smile. I know.

Just one day... Doing so well... As she heard her mothers gentle footsteps, the quiet click of the doorknob, she turned onto her side and cried out to the only Person who understood her pain... This is Your plan?  How could this have happened?  You think too highly of me to honour me with such a path...  I am not strong enough.  

This is why you were chosen, My daughter.  Because in your weakness, I am strong.  With my Spirit, you shine as the stars in the universe...

With fears and doubts swirling around them, these words of hope came to rest at the base of her soul.  Attuned to that still, quiet voice, she drifted off to sleep...  I'll worry about tomorrow tomorrow...

A commentary to follow... maybe.

*Lyrics from It Is Well With My Soul


  1. This is incredible Natasha.

    Continuing to pray for you!