I’ve never been good at fitting in. Being invisible maybe, but not fitting in. Awkward, shy, but endlessly curious as a child, I tried hard to match my mother’s outgoing personality. But I never could. Instead, as I matured, I began to repeat myself to be heard. Light hair, soft voice, a waiflike body, drew interest, but also scorn. I spoke up when things weren’t right, but I was dismissed so often, I found truth elusive. I never fully embraced the beauty of my search, nor found someone to help me on the journey.
But fitting into this life was never really what I wanted. I longed for truth, and I sought it out in many places. In mysticism, philosophies, movements, food and eventually Scripture.
Did I abandon my search after reading the Bible? No, I knew that I had established the benchmark for me, and that all other writings could confirm or give substance to the stories, nature and pathways of the ancient, but relevant stories.
Staying in this river of truth, I find a person so humanely God, and so Godly human, that the fascination alone keeps me here.
Despite the scorn, shame and often delights of life, I stroll, but often slog through the water – upstream – hemmed in by a commanding embankment. Until the rivers run through me, and as I attempt to live out His image in me, I’ll remain in the water.
