Scribed In Light

My eyes skimmed across today’s writing prompt, and I felt an instant cringe.

It rose from somewhere deep – a place I hadn’t realized was still tender, still trembling – and it spread through me like the silence that slips in before the squall.

For a moment, I almost clicked away. Disregarding the prompt felt easier than diving into something that stirred such a sudden ache. Besides, I often find myself stumbling through the digital weeds of WordPress, my ’60’s-tech-free-living’ soul laughing at this wild and complex terrain of writing. (Honestly, bless those born into a screen instead of soil, Hahahahaaa! My hat’s off to you tech-savvy warriors).

But this one…

This topic didn’t just scratch the surface.

It echoed.

It resonated.

And it did so with a depth and width that made me pause – because somewhere inside, I knew it might stretch beyond the shadows it stirred up – and reach toward the light that’s now mine to carry. A cringe which began in the very darkest recess of me…yet, might just open into an illumination – a truth -lantern of empowerment- for others who’ve been walking through similar trenches. Those still waiting, yearning, praying, hoping, for a hand to help them rise.

I shy behind hope-laced prayers that this is not found to be so outside of the normalcy lens and scope of which others may know in their innocent youthful reflections of their heartyummy childhood. That it too will be read with as much hunger for truth behind the words. My heart smiles inwardly for you….those with scrumptious upbringing. However, mine…is a story of a child’s silent prayer, a soul’s long journey, and the freedom found not in escape – but in rising.

When I was five, I didn’t dream of professions or picture-perfect futures. I didn’t wish to be a ballerina, a princess, a teacher or doctor.

I wished to be FREE.

Free from the ache to be held.

Free from the hunger to be cherished.

Free of the silent screams buried so deep they burned their way down to my very soul.

I wanted to be free of the anguish that came dressed as discipline, the violence that wore a parent’s face, the silence that echoed louder than any scream.

At five, I didn’t wish for a job.

I wished for safety.

For love.

For someone- anyone– to care enough to intervene.

But no one came.

So I built my own oasis in my mind, and ran there when the real world around me collapsed and became unbearable. Most days…too many times to count.

I couldn’t take my siblings there with me…But I tried.

Oh God, I tried.

I watched their tears, heard my mothers sobs, as I slipped into the quiet escape of my otherworld. There -I swallowed guilt like glass-shards pressing into a child’s insides – who only wanted everyone to feel safe. Slowly I would allow myself to ebb away …blind, deaf, numb and dumb to the reality erupting around me.

Present day my darling husband, often teases me- that I live in my own world. Where all is splashed in love, laughter, and sunlight… and I sashay about, adorned in rose-colored glasses.

Touché, love of my life…touché.

As the years passed, my wish for my siblings, for my mother, and too, for myself…did not fade.

It deepened.

I didn’t grow out of the desire to be free, I grew through it.

I carried my brother’s pain until he could carry it no longer. I watched as his spirit- so gentle, so misunderstood – chose a shotgun to break the silence no one else would. And every day since, I’ve prayed he finally found the freedom we were all so very desperate for.

My sisters and I –

We rose.

Through scraped knees, trembling hearts, and the silent eyes of that refused to see…

We rose.

We found our freedom not in the arms of a rescuer, but in our own trembling hands, joined together in sisterhood, strength, and fierce determination to be better than what we came from….to be everything we ever needed and never found.

So, what did I want to be when I grew up?

I wanted to be free.

And now, I want to be light.

A voice for the silent.

A hand for the hurting.

A fierce, holy flame burning in the name of every child still whispering that same prayer into their pillow.

I often feel our so-called ‘evolved society’ is still tangled in the habit of asking all the wrong questions.

We ask children, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

But so many are already carrying the weight of unseen sorrows within the small frames of their youth.

Maybe…the better question isn’t, “What do you want to be?”, but rather –

“Who are you, right now?” – within their present-day state of life eperience…no matter the illusion of their age.

Some of our youth are walking around with souls far older, experienced, seasoned than their years. Many bear bruises invisible to the world, yet loud within their gaze.

We must learn to see them beyond the veil of what we perceive as an age.

To honor their current state of being.

To ask questions that meet them where they are, not where we assume they should be.

"Freedom is not the absence of chains, but the presence of peace." - Unknown

"Not all of us can do great things.  But we can do small things with great love."  - Mother Teresa


Light, grace, and rose-colored sunglasses,
Tina