Author: Juliandra Jackson

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Kite.

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A kite. Up there, bight and high. The tails streamlining behind like ribbons in little girls hair flowing when they run. The colors draw the eyes of people from miles around. All are staring up at the beautiful kite floating gracefully. Then it dips and twirls as the wind moves it from here to there, like a ballerina dipping and twirling in the finale of her show. The One guiding the kite gives a gentle tug, maneuvering the kite like a seasoned captain does his ship on the high seas- with ease and knowing. The string is taught. Sometimes the Guide lets the kite fly higher and sometimes brings it back down to a reality that might hurt, as it looks like it might crash to a halt. But only because the Guide wants to show that He is in control of this beautiful kite. Always. He wants you to know He is in control. No matter what.

You, who flits in the wind thinking it’s your own talent, don’t realize that the wind is what moves you. You, who pulls against the string, trying to make your own way, don’t realize that the string is what keeps you grounded. You, who thinks you can see all from your place in the sky, don’t realize that your Anchor to earth, sky, and everything in between is the One who set you free to begin with. So when you want to take off and do it your own way, don’t forget the Three and the One. He is Who makes it possible to be a Beautiful Kite so you can be free and SOAR.

You are like a Beautiful Kite. So remember, that as an altogether insignificant and important beautifully crafted kite, you won’t last without the Wind, String, and Guide to keep you soaring and moving all for His glory just as you were designed to.

Personality.

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Josepha Holland-Merten

Photo Cred: Josefa Holland-Merten

Today, when I look at the waves trying to see what lies below the sandy dark tumult, there is nothing that seems more mysterious or chilling. Usually, the ocean calls to me in a friendly way. The reverberations of the steady water almost sound like breathing- a constant in and out that matches my own. It pulls me closer till my toes sink in the wet sand and the waves wrap around my ankles like a cold, but endearing caress. But today, the ocean isn’t a comforting friend. As the fog rolls in and I walk alone, it seems as though I could be the only person alive. I see the shaggy hair of a tall Giant, or is it just the faint outline of a palm tree high above me? I pinch myself and squish my toes in the sand to remind myself that the grey mass hasn’t swallowed me whole. As I breathe in, my lungs fill with the heavy, misty air, and I fear that the grey mass could be my future. But no, my toes are still there and the scratchy cold sand keeps me grounded to reality- that the sun will shine tomorrow as will my future. I hope.

I realize through the dark mist that like people, the ocean has personality too. Through the days, weeks, and months spent wandering the sand, I pick out which beach I want to go to depending on my mood. The ocean’s personality invites or acts standoffish depending on the weather… the time of day… on whom else might be there. And in my times spent at these beaches, I see which hold the best rocks for me to lean against as I journal. I run on the beaches with the most sand and length, when I need to let loose. I visit those with cliffs and monstrous jungle plants, when I want to feel like I am someplace exotic. Sometimes I stop by the beach with the most people, when I am lonely. Or if I want to get alone I welcome the beach that is vacant because of poor parking. The beaches can somehow fit my mood and carry me to wherever I need to go next in my hectic day.

Beyond the beaches that have become a part of my daily life is the vast, unknowable ocean. Through these months exploring the beaches, I have come to respect the ocean with awe and fear. I still am amazed when a dolphin flips his tail. I get excited when a dorsal fin flashes for a second with the tides. Or when a pelican dives head first like a bullet into the choppy water. I have witnessed this time and time again, and it still catches something in me. I have to stop talking, thinking, walking and just absorb the peaceful wildness. I can feel my mind clear and release and sense my imaginations create a story for those creatures I am blessed to watch from afar, though I will never know them.

Then there are the colors. The waves turn black, green, or blue with the sun. And the fog adds an element of exoticism when the sun isn’t bursting on cloudless days. Fierce and sometimes wild, the waves brutally push each other out of the way; roughly rising and falling on a stormy day. White water decorates the ocean surface, as foam collects on the beach. Awe and Fear live together at the sea, hand in hand.

There is another face in the sea as Awe and Fear’s little brother, Delight, invites me to venture into the waves. Delight calls me when the sun is hot on my skin and the waves act in a gentle lull. I first accept the cold kiss at my ankles, before wading into my waist. I am so trusting of the refreshing waves with each step, trying to avoid the seaweed that grazes my legs. Delight pulls me out further till finally I am soaked in a salty, cold bath. Giggling, I jump. I ride each mass of wave that satisfies an adventurous longing for MORE in this world. More Awe. More Fear. More Beauty. More Intrigue. More Mystery. More Play. More Laughter. More Delight…

Mysterious, friendly, warm, inviting, fierce, wild. These describe the ocean’s characteristics. And I realize it all stems from His personality. He didn’t leave a single thing untouched by His presence. He is in the water. He is in the dolphin’s tail flip. He is in the cold dark beneath the shimmering waves. The sunlight reflects off the water because He spoke it that way. The deep gray fog is His mystery. The gentle breathing of water after a stressful day is His reminder that He will never leave me nor forsake me. When the waves crash against the rocks, I am reminded of His power. When the pelicans nose dive, I am reminded of His unique creation. When the sun is hot and the waters call for me to play, I am reminded of how I was created to enjoy Him and all that He’s created.

Yes. The ocean has personality. Because it all belongs to Him.

Tomorrow.

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Tomorrow

He stood her up again. Three days ago, he had guaranteed she could depend on him. That he would be there for her when she needed him. They made a plan to meet, talk, and debrief the latest life catastrophe. And of course he has promised to lift heavy boxes since she was in the process of moving. But with another missed phone call and ignored text, she knew it was hopeless to hope he would respond. She called him all kinds of bitter names in her head, while speeding down the freeway. Tears stung her eyes as the day she had anticipated fell to pieces with each mile that she fled the city.

The scenery changed, the sun grew dim in the sky. She pulled off the freeway to the first gas station. Her make-up was smeared in dark lines around her blue eyes. She searched for something to clean up a bit, but then fell to an exhausted slump on her steering wheel. That’s when she heard the still small voice whisper in a tender spot. “There is a Friend that sticks closer than a brother, and I am here.” She didn’t want to be let down again, disappointed, and ashamed of her naivety of some people’s unconcern, carelessness, and disregard for her well-being. So she tried to ignore the voice. But as verses flooded her mind of this Perfect Friend, she knew she should give up her heart to Him once more.

Her broken tattered heart from all the years of neglect and manipulation from the people she should be able to trust. Part of her didn’t want to forgive. Or forget. Or be kind to the one person in her city she should be able to count on. But in her weakness, and she did feel weak toward him, the True Friend could be strong for her. He could stand in on her behalf. He could give love that no one else could. So… she decided to trust. Putting the car in drive she pulled forward. Forward to a new day tomorrow with trust and hope that He would fix her broken heart and relationships. Yes, she decided. A new tomorrow with Him looks brighter than the dark sky and miserable feelings of today. She was neither shy nor timid about her decision to keep Him first and to follow Him to tomorrow.

Thirsty.

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The heat in the room, the pounding music that thumps your heart, the drinks that you’ll down because of how thirsty you are. It doesn’t matter who the guy is, as long as someone is telling you the words you want to hear. That you are beautiful, desired, and worth it; that he’s never met anyone as funny and cute as you. If you were to check in with yourself and think, instead of simply feeling how good this charming stranger’s hand feels on the back of your neck and that his flirtatious words sooth a dry spot in your cracked heart, you might realize how deeply unsettling it is that a stranger can have such an emotive effect on you. Your heart is broken, and you don’t even know it. And you are willing to do anything to feel the love you deserve. Even through the combined magnetism and repulsion, disconcerting push and pull, feelings of anxiety and excitement of his lips on yours. But is this really what you deserve, is this really what you want to feel, a confusing mix of precious and worthless?

Bodies are packed against each other. Trying to sway and move to the music. Drunken arms cling to the seductive figures behind them. Guys grope anyone with the boldness to wear a thigh-high dress. Girls stumble in their sparkling high heels, splashing you and everyone around them with sticky, sweet alcohol. Your dress clings to you from sweat and other peoples’ beverage, and for a second you think, “I wasn’t made for this.” All you want is to be alone, safe, in the fresh air that the cool night offers. You silently long for the quiet solace that the twinkling stars in the black sky whisper down to you. You languish for two moments of reality, without someone physically pushing past you as if you are just an object in the way. But. The thoughts are fleeting as the noise is loud, the beat is deep, and you remember that the guy behind you is judging everything you do. Your moments of being kept in his arms or abandoned on the dance floor to the ocean of men around you hinge on how you move your body against his and the witty comments you throw back to his seductive manners. So, you shake off the annoyance, pain, and all thoughts of relief with a flip of your curls, a sassy dark-lipped smile, and another swig of bitter alcohol. And the drink does exactly what it is supposed to. As it takes away the pain it also dulls any faint hint of the still small voice inside that wants you to desperately know, there is more to life than this. This is not your destiny. And yes, you do deserve love. But not like this. Not from a provocative pub rat that captured your attention with a free drink and hot breath on your cold skin.

This still small voice is asking, telling, pleading for you to listen. But when the pub rat’s hand moves to yours and the other pulls you close, what becomes reality? The reality is you are scared, and the still small voice is so far away as you put the glass to your lips once more. You know you should stop, but you’re just so thirsty. And you forget to ask yourself, is a drink with this guy, a sloppy sweaty kiss in the night, worth the shame and regret you know you will feel in the morning? Or did you forget, that the last time you did this- the last time you allowed someone to make you feel important for two minutes in the night- you woke up feeling so empty and lonely that you were scared to be alone for fear of what might happen? Did you forget?

You know people are watching, but they are all doing it too. After all, this is why people came here. For a kiss and a word and a moment to feel the love they deserve. And you forget to ask yourself is this what love is? His hand moves to your thigh and suddenly it’s too much. But you laugh, because if you don’t, he might leave you. And then you will be alone because you don’t know where your friends are. And since you are insecure, you keep dancing and drinking, drowning out the war of voices inside of you as he pulls you even closer to himself, doing things to your body you would just rather not remember. So you drink to forget and drink to be encouraged. He doesn’t know, no one knows, not even your friends of the pain that you feel.

Ahh the friends, and there is another word that lines up perfectly on this Path of Fake you find yourself stumbling down quickly. The friends who just an hour before said you were beautiful, hot, sexy and damn it if you don’t deserve the best guy tonight. So they left you in his arms, because clearly this attractive beguiling guy, with one thing on his mind, is the best you can do. You and your friends had kissed and hugged each other, giggling as you painted your faces with red, pink, and all manner of colors and shapes around your eyes; covering the God-given “blemishes” that you don’t want the world to know about. And as you drank wine and posed in front of the bathroom mirror you told each other, “This, this is how I want the world to see me.” This is as close as you will be to a model on a magazine cover, and so you pursed your lips and flashed your cameras, hoping for a thousand likes online to boost your confidence in the fake appearance you all so carefully wrapped yourselves in.

Wait a second, you think. When did the Path of Fun and Freedom become the Path of Fake? And where are you now, oh child dancing in the night? When did you end up on the Path of Lonely and Alone? You were untouchable. Right? You were dancing with the crowd in laughter. But how long ago was that? Ten minutes, weeks, months? Did you lose the crowd on Path of Fake? Were there that many twists and turns in the tunnels of your heart and mind that everyone left you to Path of Lonely?