Playgrounds

I'm intending to limit this to 2 or 3 posts a week, or less. But, knowing me, I'll start updating every day and then it'll simmer down to like, once a month, and then not at all and then every day again. ;) But this was on my mind so, here we go. 

I read this quote by C.S Lewis that said something like "Getting over a painful experience is a lot like crossing the monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward." That broke mountains and flooded oceans in me.. All this time I've been trying to free myself from this, to dig nails into rock and muster enough strength to pull myself out of the chasms I let my brokenness bury me in. All this time viewing life as some long and winding, rocky path, thinking: "No, Christians aren't supposed to have life easy, they’re supposed to be persecuted, this is okay." All this time so obsessed with keeping bleeding feet on straight path, careful to not fall back into canyons that I forgot to appreciate the beauty of the life I was living. The life my Lover gave me. Life is not rocky paths riddled with slippery spots that spill you into dark and lonely chasms. 

Life is a playground. The Joy of slipping down electrified, plastic, winding slides; hair on the back of your knees and your forearms standing up on end. Happiness gleaming from loose and crooked teeth. Oh, to possess the heart of a child again! To slip from monkey bars, landing on knees, running in terror to an overprotective mother, blood pouring down your leg, only to skip back and force hands, tighter gripped back to metal bars. Life is a playground! Arms wrapped tightly around fireman pole, eyes squeezed shut so forcefully you see purple until tiny feet hit pebbled bottom. And the bigger kids push you out of a swing or off of a platform, breaking your arm, yet the Joy in your heart doesn't let you stop getting right back on that swing the very next day. Mothers watch closely for waiting accidents and intended accidents and little accidents. Children find their purpose there. Children go missing there. Children feel life there. Life is a playground. How beautiful is it to know that now? Bright, vibrant colors surround tiny children, sounds of laughter and elation overwhelm crying and fear. 

Life is so much more beautiful than the crushing darkness that I was so distracted by. I see every stranger, every friend, energy filled and Joy pouring out of them like oceans; and I am hanging here on these monkey bars, no longer a child. No longer possessing the optimistic idea of getting better and having fun with scraped knees or broken elbows. Instead, I hang here, nearly full grown, fingers white and skin on knuckles splitting from gripping metal so tightly, unprepared to release and reach for my next hold. Terrified of falling again. Terrified of having to start all the way over. But I can hang here no longer. I've gotta reach, worn out as I am, I can't be like this anymore. Not putting my trust in my Savior is where I went so incredibly wrong. I know now that if I fall, He will ALWAYS be there to catch me. And I praise God for shining The Light back on my dark and twisted playground.

There’s a reason I was given this, a reason my playground went through tornadoes and thunderstorms and was broken and wrecked for so long: There are little ones lined up behind me, having to trudge such similar paths, and I have to help show them the Joy and relief of grabbing the next bar. That once the fear of falling is over, the fun of swinging forward begins. I have to help get the hurt and afraid across so they can slide down fireman poles and fly on swing sets again. 

I have to reintroduce them to vibrant playgrounds.