Saturday, September 1, 2012

what's your story?

we read autobiographies of famous singer/songwriters, unforgettable men and women in american even world history, well-known poets of the times and we sit and awe contemplating what it would be like to have lived that kind of life. how they came from pennies to riches simply by loading a lonely bus to the right town leading them to their dreams, how they spoke up instead of stooping to their heels when the world around them was against them, and how everything they saw in life was a song and the words just fell from their wind pipes unto a blank page and somehow is seen as a treasure now in american literature. and then we ask ourselves in that quiet minute moment in time this: does or will my life measure up to theirs? 

will the world see my story simply by their sight? will my life be seen as a treasure once i leave this world behind.  i may never write a published book of my own, home to every library or bookstore's shelf, although i like to think i could write my own book on my philosophy on life, so how will they know my story? my timeline of events that God set aside just for me to live in, how will they know to remember me? and will my life story be embedded in their hearts forever.

when they see an old familiar place in the world around them, will they look and see me? a song on the radio that only chimes in when the mood is right, will they hear me? a single yellow rose overwhelmed in a bouquet of denim colored hydrangeas occupying it's beauty, will they see it's simpleness and think of me and how i adored them so?

me, in the laughter of a little child who at one point in the twenty-two years i have lived, used to be myself, chasing the wind and asking what holds the clouds in the sky? me, standing in the rain at fifteen with nothing but a broken heart and a sign on my back that reads "kick me, please it won't hurt anymore than it already has". me, becoming the girl that learned to patch up her scars and discover what really makes the heart beat in her chest. and me, becoming a young bride to the man i never knew i always wanted and who i will never stop loving beyond my last breath. 

everyone want's to be known in society, cared for, thought of often, spoke sweetly of in another's thoughts and words, but i believe what the heart desires is to simply be remembered, and to be remembered in this life is to live. if you don't live then what is there to remember because every movement in time is a snap-shot photograph. your first birthday, the first day you road the school bus, the first time you road your bicycle without training wheels, your sixteen year old self with running mascara dressed to impress days, behind the wheels of your first car leading to your first speeding ticket, wedding day bliss, and finally your first new-born and so on. it's all just a moment in time waiting to be heard and thought of often

you see, all i want is to be remembered. felt in the midst of a crowded room. seen as a star in God's heavenly sky. heard beyond the teeth past the lips of that beautiful solo sung with grace in that dark candle lit evening room. and remembered as the woman i have become.

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