This morning, as the sun rose slowly over distant hills, spilling streams of red and orange splendor down rocky slopes asleep in darkness, until feeling their touch, my thoughts turned, once more, towards you. For a restlessness quickens and stirs deep within me at such moments, and I try to imagine the beauty that was yours, the beauty that clothed the world you knew, a beauty held out to you that you drank in with your every breath.
Whispers of its remembrance reach out and pluck at my heart, leaving an expectancy, an ache Ė or maybe itís an echo of what once was. Of what I can only know in shadow, now. And a grieving I canít shake rushes in to keep rhythm with the echoís cadence.
How much I long to speak to you, face to face. Though eons separate our journeys, somehow I feel if I could simply talk with you, for a moment, the disquiet that so often stirs within my heart would find some peace, at last.
The disenchantment of my world begs a taste of yours, begs to behold the beauty meant to be home, the beauty that filled your days. How I yearn for it, hunger after it.
How did you ever survive having to leave it? I donít think I could. For never having known it, still it calls to me, unrelentingly, leaving a gaping hole that nothing fills. If only Ö
With deepest longing,
A Restless Heart
For that is what you are, a daughter of my heart. And you are right; we are, indeed, fellow sojourners. Each missing beauty, in our own way. For we are made for beauty, you and I. Need for it mixed with our very clay.
However, my dear, I fear the beauty for which it sounds like you are searching will lead you away from the very thing you seek. It did me. I know. How can I ever forget?
Beauty was birthed new in each morning. How could it have been anything less, for a Master Artist held the brush, each stroke He laid, perfection.
Youíd have thought it enough, and for a while, it was, until my eyes beheld a beauty outside my reach. Not my touch, you understand. Seeing it, I desired it.
Moreover, I meant to have it. But then, as my heart-daughter, you know that, you understand that, donít you? For youíve done the same. We share that determination, you and I, so you feel my words when I tell you nothing would keep me from that beauty I desired.
I grasped it, drew that beauty to myself, heedless of consequences, refusing to recognize there were any. Imagine my horror, dearest Daughter, as beauty turned to ash in my mouth. My desire for beauty consumed me, left me empty, and naked, and defiantly afraid.
Oh, Daughter, how wrong I was. How misguided you are, my Dear, as you follow in my own steps. Your eyes have deceived, have silenced your heart, for your heart knows the truth.
I lost everything, or so I thought, before I really understood the language of Ďbeautiful.í For thatís what beauty is really, a language, the language of love, undeserved love.
My first glimpse of it was in a bloody covering, and the message reflected in Loveís eyes as He wrapped me securely in it. Then I realized how foolish Iíd been. Donít imitate my foolishness, dearest daughter.
In your hunger for the beauty you believe you long for, donít miss the only robe beautiful wears. True beauty isnít temporal, captured by your hand. I wish Iíd understood that. I pray you will. Beauty is eternal, and He pursues you with His whole heart. He neither feared nor turned from the bloodied path that capturing your heart required. And though He has no comeliness that man would desire Him, itís only because we look with the naked eye.
Hunger after beauty, dear Daughter, pursue the richness of it, the fullness of it, the glory of it, for when you turn your heart toward seeking beautyís truth, not its shadow, youíll feel His arms of grace embrace you, forever. And your hunger? Fully satisfied. Let Beautiful fill your days, and when He does, my daughter, youíll know youíre home.
Ever the Belovedís,
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