She was drunk with her own pain, pain that spilled out in anger, accusation and despair. She blamed those who loved her most, too broken to make sense of the situation and blind to the path of hope. The wise fairies acknowledged her pain, shed light on the reality and gave her permission to quit. Under intense pressure, she found her passion stirred enough to force her forward. Apparently unarmed, she ventured on to rescue the one she loved. In the end, it was her love that set captives free and defeated darkness, not only for the one she went after but for a whole nation.
Such was my take on Meg, a character from Madeline L'Engle's "A Wrinkle in Time". There are days without number when I feel just like her, drunk and blind with pain, unable to recognize or take hold of any hand of hope that is offered. I've reeled in anger towards those who love me, throwing darts of blame, losing sense of all the goodness He's poured into my story. That's where i've been the larger part of the past year, that's where I've been this week, that's where I've found myself today.
Panic rising, I've been asking for help. He reminds me of Meg. Of all, she believed least in her herself. Feels familiar. Yet because she loved, she held the key for freedom. He reminds me that I am well equipped to win. In the pressure of life and death, Meg found her fighting spirit. I am angst that I will ever find mine. The pressure comes in waves and lately I usually land underneath it, gasping for air. My wrestle is to believe that I will eventually win, to believe that I have what victory requires, to hope that the battle will really have an ending. Oh for magic fairies, oh Spirit of Grace, give me eyes to see that I will win and a heart to find hope in this truth. Help me remember that it is the weak things that confound the wise.
I would wear it with pearls, probably pink ones.
Meant to be a princess
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