At first, it was faint – the echoes of rumbling far off in the distance, a pulsating whisper traveling through years.
All at once strange and familiar, the symphony swells. Every note and every chord shatters a brick in the fortress around my woman-heart.
Rumors, lies, rejection, shame – the walls are quaking.
Fear, secrets, bad theology, failure – the walls are crumbling.
Through the cracks and crevices, the river of sounds rushes from memories awakening. Carried on the current are sounds of laughter ringing & singing unleashed, flutes playing & songs written, words crafted & messages spoken, dreams whispered & hope declaring.
I know those sounds – pure and undefiled by disillusion. I know that passion – the certainty of having a gift to offer the world.
The girl I once was believed there was nothing so broken it could not be mended. She believed someone somewhere needed her words, her voice. She believed she loved what she loved for a reason, that all the intricacies of her heart were not without purpose. She believed she could not be silenced.
And now as the river carries the dreams of her childhood into her present, rushing ever faster, straining the dam of disappointment the years have haughtily erected, she sees with new eyes. Perhaps what she thought was dead has merely been sleeping, growing, waiting.
Sometimes Hope is everywhere, the signs of promise blooming all around and all you have to do is drink in the wonder. But sometimes Hope comes because you give her no choice. You reclaim her. You take her and say, “You will stay. You will be the rapids in my river of awakening. You will be the final surge needed to shatter the dam. You will.”
I will be the best of the girl I once was and the girl I am now – warrior spirit, creative heart, prophetic voice. Come, rushing River. Come, fierce Hope. Today, let’s be free.
Today I am joining my voice with an army of women claiming their freedom through the Story Sessions link up. Join us?