Unmuted

{Photo courtesy of Flickr}

I was browsing through some old journals today, and the contrast between these scribbles I wrote made me smile. I cannot even remember being the Gabi who wrote the 2003 scribble.

12th August 2003:
If only there was some way one could manipulate their skin the way they do their feelings,
If only there was a way to revert black to bright colours,
If only there was a way to show someone inside your heart and mind, to let them know how much it hurts,
If only food did not provoke guilt,
If only size was not an issue,
If only suicide did not appeal in such a grotesque way,
If only reason was not a mind game,
If only logic made any sense,
If only I could believe that someone loves me, when they look into my eyes and tell me they care,
If only I could accept their help,
If only I could reach out my hand and ask them to hold it,
If only I could see myself through the eyes of others,
If only self-hatred did not run deep through my veins,
If only I could believe I have feelings,
If only I could wake up and find this had been a lurid nightmare,
If only I could be free,
If only I could find myself,
If only.

2006:
I belong to Him. He designed me. I am His creation. I do not want to move unless I hear His voice telling me to take the step. Everything that hurts me He holds inside His heart. His is the language of pain. Equally everything that brings a smile to His daughter’s face He knows and understands. I am made in His image, not the image this world would like me to conform to. For my Father is not a creator of duplicates and clones. He is the mold-breaker. The radical artist whose every masterpiece is a one-off, never to be repeated design. All of the days of my life, every waking second, every hour of slumber is safely held together in His hands, not my own small fragile ones. He is love. He is the complete expression of beauty, peace and joy. He longs to bless me beyond measure, to give me more than my hands could ever hold. Who better to serve than my Jesus? Who better to trust in than the One who holds the stars in place and knows them by name? Why He chose me I will never understand fully, but I seek to pour my life out for Him, as a sacrifice of praise to the One who loves me with all the passion of eternity.

2009:
These are the days when my no has been given away. Every pattern in my veins is yes and amen. Somewhere beneath copper-coloured strands of His earth, lies a past I used to define myself by. As I cast my open-hands to the breeze, I felt a stronger Tenderness pulsating through my palms. I was swallowed up by a measure of beauty, that you’ll never find unless you pour your life out to find it. In my chest were beating the amazing things He’d carried for so long. So many bright eyes were telling me stories, and then of course there were His. We had never been strangers. I had always known these ones, born as they were in my heart. I recognised her hands because even though she carried no wounds, I’d always known the sight of a Hand still bearing scars. It was His beckoning that led me to find her. As I felt chocolate skin brush across mine in an stream of touches spanning eternity, I heard heartbeats that aligned with mine. I knew scattered pieces of my war-torn life were being gathered and brought back from exile.

It wasn’t that I was learning to dance, instead I had no choice but to be danced with. Instructed by the One Whose voice sounds like playgrounds, I broke open. I was torn apart so that all could fall in. I barely even noticed the tears, endlessly though they fell. They were steady like His Hand upon my back. I found Him relentless. Unable to settle for less than all of me, I’d already signed myself away. It was all of me for all of them, through all of Him. The beauty of it remained in everything that I was spilling over His feet. I had been lying motionless in the arms of a dying dream for so long, and in those moments, I was gripped as You pulled me to my feet. Then somehow there was too much life kicking inside my chest and I couldn’t stay still.

It was those ones, who taught me the value of living alive inside the blazing love of a King. In his hand-writing I discovered what I’d been saved from. Through her scars I found the source of all my hope. I used to see shadows where You were longing to be visible. I drew myself down, and there in the clouds of dust I found You. Far from choking me, never had I breathed easier than I did on these streets. You opened windows and I drank from Your eyes, there in the space between the sky that knows no boundaries and my own fragile frame. You had my knees on a threshing floor, but all I could see was love. I could no longer see any lines. My death was about love. On the other side of blood lay an irreversible awakening. My heart forever stained by Love. This heart knows nothing but redemption.

{Submitted by Gabi Dickinson}