Behind the Mask

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It is one thing to see someone; it is another
thing altogether to see who someone is. Really is. If
you remove your mask, who would I see?

photo credit: Vanessa on Pixabay

Before you let me see you, you ask
me, who am I? Me…

I am a sojourner, sometimes weary, always seeking.

I am a writer, weaving words and telling stories, inviting
others to linger in unknown places.

I am a mama, a name spoken in love, in fear, in the dark; mama,
accompanied at times by eyes rolled, or a smile, with exasperation; yelled,
whispered, adorned in adoration.

I am a wife, made separately, brought together; one
seeking answers, direction, all things made new, me
made new in God, with God, in the midst and at the center.

I am a daughter of the King, the Creator. He invites me
into His presence. He guides my wanderings and my wonderings;
He answers me, whispering truth to my soul; I am with you.

I am a friend, a confidante, a holder of secrets, of hands, of hearts,
broken and whole. I wield truth and encouragement, creating mosaics
of love and hope and bonds of trust, digging deep roots, and growing
deeper connections.

I am a New England girl. A caustic Yankee, steeped
in four seasons, and layered with sun and snow. A beach goer. A collector
of broken things: shells, beach glass, people, dreams.

I am a North Carolina transplant, standing in the shadows
of mountains, with a foot, my heart still on the streets of Boston.

I breathe to the rhythm of tides and walk to the moving of city streets.

photo credit: Victoria_Borodinova on Pixabay

I make rules. I bend rules. I break rules. I break
my promises, so I mend hearts and make amends.

I get up early and still run late. I miss the mark and fall behind, but
I refuse to give up, to quit. I try again. And again.

I stumble, I fall, sometimes too hard, sometimes too short.
I get up again and again. And again. I stand tall and yield
to the God of my heart, my soul.

I take time. I find time. I make time.
I steal moments and steel my soul. I take
that next step. I square my shoulders and face down my fears.

I create memories and space and beauty. And margin, where
I create. I write. I wonder. I seek. I wander. I breathe and marvel
at who I am and who I am destined to be.

In the mirror, in my reflection, I see
God; in me, me made in His image.

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