We had just finished our Korean lunch.

I ordered Bi Bim Bap.  It’s the Korean version of Chinese fried rice.  With sliced beef.  Except the rice is fired up warm in a clay pot.  And the rice gets crispy on the bottom.

Never mind; it’s actually nothing like fried rice.  But, I guess I say it’s like fried rice because it tastes like comfort food ought to.  The veges, rice, and meat are all mixed together and you can eat it in one spoonful. And it’s steaming hot.

Annette is my best friend from high school.  I met her during orientation day for freshmen while sitting on the bleachers.  I felt a finger tap me on the shoulder.  I turned around and an Asian girl in a wavy 80’s bob stared back at me and asked, “You wanna have lunch together?” matter-of-factly, the way people stop you to ask, “Excuse me, do you know time it is?”.

Now, Annette sat next to me in her suburban SUV, with the car heater running.  We had some time to kill after lunch before we had to head back home.  She to her two boys and a girl and archery-shooting husband, and me to my Josh and Caleb and techie-tinkering hubby.

We hadn’t gotten a chance to see each other over the holidays.  So we each had our little gift bags with us.  Gift exchange time.

What I’ve Longed For

“I want to go first.”  She tells me.  She hands me a wrapped 8×10 thin rectangle package.

“I know what this is…” I begin.  Some sort of journal. Or a book of some kind?

As I tore open the wrapping, a burst of quiet stillness — the luminescence of a robin-egg blue wooden kitchen table and pale pink roses in a cream colored pitcher washed in the shade of sunlight warming the room through sheer tulle window curtains — pierced into my heart.

I was looking at the cover photograph of Rachel Ashwell’s Shabby Chic home decorating guide, but something about the room I was looking into triggered a crashing explosion of memories.

A cacophony of flashbacks.  Strong, stabbing powerful shards of shattering scenes.   Trapped in my bedroom.  On the bed. In the hallway. On the floor.  In the grimy kitchen with the peeling yellowed wallpaper.  The ugly kitchen greasy table I had to stare into the plastic laminated woodgrain while emotional storms raged around me.

They pushed out like a waterfall pushing me off into into a whitewater current of painful, tear-choked sobs.

I wasn’t having a panic attack, but the grief of the memories I’ve recovered shot to the surface.  And I could not stop them.

A rolodex of scenes flashed before me.  And I just allowed myself to cry and cry.

“Bonnie… Bonnie… you’re not supposed to cry… C’mon… C’mon… This is supposed to make you happy!” Annette reached over with a box of kleenex.

“I know…  I know… I can’t stop… ”  I creaked out.  “I’m actually very happy.  Too happy.  That’s why I’m crying…”

I knew what I was saying made no sense at all.  Because I wasn’t really sure why I was crying either.

“It’s just so beautiful.” I explained as I flipped through the photographs and cried again.

“This is what I’ve always longed for.  What I never had. A home.”

And I began to tell her what I’ve never told anyone.

Where I’ve Lived

“This is where I’ve lived, Annette.” I pointed at all the beautiful worlds depicted with porcelain vases, lace and tulle, and quiet, romantic spaces.

“Deep inside me, this is what my secret world looks like.  It’s like this shabby-chic world. This is where the little girl in me escaped to.  This is how she has survived.”

I’ve never seen it displayed out on a page.  Until that moment.

Deep inside me is a home. This is where I walk barefoot, with book in hand. Sunlight kissing every surface.

Here, everything is beautiful.  It’s so quiet here, you can hear the trees rustle and feel the hush of wind blowing against the window pane.

Here, I am beautiful. Safe. I am alone.  Except for Jesus and me.

I’ve never been interested in home decor.  Not because I didn’t like it.  Just never really mattered that much to me.  My house has always been pretty generic, I think.  Safely decorated is what I call it.

But lately in my season of self-discovery, it’s been starting to bother me.

What is it that I like?  Why do I have this “stuff” or thingamajig? It’s nice. But, it’s not really me.  You know?

I was telling Annette about all this.  She’d ask me, “What do you like?  You should get a headboard you know…”  She’s heard me talk about getting one since I got married.  But, I never got one because I’ve never been sure what it is I do like.

“I think I like shabby chic stuff.  But, I don’t know.  I like modern minimalist nature look too.”  I mentioned casually once.

I guess Annette remembered.

This Isn’t Real

I told my therapist Dr. P about the flashbacks and a wave of sobs erupting over some decorating book. How random is that?

“Oh…?” Dr. P was very interested. He wanted me to “go back” into my secret “house” and tell him what I see and what is all there.

“This isn’t real.  It’s just pretend.” I was annoyed. Dismissive. “Some made up a place a little girl dreamed up.”

“What do you think about all this?”  Dr. P asked.

“I think it’s time for me to say goodbye to this place,” I start to cry because it’s so sad to see the little girl in this made up house. “I’m not a little girl anymore.  It’s time to leave this made up world and live in the real world.”

“Actually, this world is more real than the one you see.” Dr. P explains. “This is a beautiful place Jesus made just for you and Him.  It’s where He’s preserved you safe.”

“Jesus says, ‘You are sent into the world, but not of it.'”
Dr. P (paraphrasing Jesus in John 17:15-18)

“It’s the opposite, Bonnie,” Dr. P pauses to make his point.  “It’s time for you to make your outer world reflect your inner world — where you are completely loved.  Cherished.  Accepted. “

I cried and cried like I never cried before. An eternity of tears.  Because as I close my eyes and walk through each room as the little girl, I see that everything beautiful is connected to something broken.

Beginning

I am beginning to understand. Both exist: sorrow and beauty.  Sadness and love.  Pain and healing.  One touches to the other.

I hear the one word Jesus has been whispering to me through my long and dark and weary nights —

Beloved.

Beloved.

Beloved.

I’ve reached a monumental milestone — a breakthrough in my journey of healing.

I can see her now — the little girl in me. I see why she is afraid.  And I have all her memories now. Live and fresh.

I will help her.  To grieve.  To dream.

I will give her permission to be tired.  To rest.

I will be kind to her.

And in time, I will invite some friends into her world.

Friends who are good.  Kind.  Loving.  Who will step into her world.

And they will stay and visit.  And laugh.  And play.

They will dance.

Talk.

Play music.

Share art.

Tell stories.

They will cry with each other. Celebrate together.

And they will write together.

Read together.

Eat together.

And even have sleepovers.

And Jesus will be there.

It’s Happening

He will welcome all of us with a beautiufl laugh.

Strong arms.

A warm embrace.

He’ll watch us all, listen with intense interest and be amazed at all the stories we’re living out with Him.

This world is real, friends.

It’s happening.

Here.  Every time we share. In our everyday, in-the-skin lives. With our In-Real-Life friends.

Our words, our art, our stories. In person. In writing.

Everytime we embrace the brokenness and the beauty —  when we nurture our spirit, care for our bodies, give ourselves permission to rest —this inner, spiritual world that is in you and me becomes more real.

There is beauty in you.

And in me.

“If you belonged to the world,
it would love you as its own.
As it is, you do not belong to the world,
but I have chosen you out of the world.”
~ John 15:19

“My prayer is not that you take them out of the world
but that you protect them from the evil one.
They are not of the world, even as I am not of it….
As you sent me into the world,
I have sent them into the world.”
~ Jesus’ prayer for us to the Father
John 17:15-18

~~~~~

Do you have a beautiful secret place in you?

What puts you in touch with the real you — where you feel safe, at ease and at rest?

What do you like to do?  Where do you go?

Pull up a chair. Tell us. We’re here listening. Click to comment.

~~~~~~

A #BelovedChallenge: Do one thing in your outer world to reflect the beauty of your inner world where you and Jesus meet.

Buy some flowers for yourself this week. Stop by the library and check out a book you’d enjoy for the sheer enjoyment of reading. Close down your browsers, clear a space on your desk and journal. Play some music at night when all is still and quiet… or ?

**NOW, IT’S YOUR TURN — LINK UP IN THE FAITH JAM **

HTML Code For the Faith Jam Faith Fresh Badge

 

Faith Barista Jam Thursdays

1) I serve up a writing prompt. Let the topic soak in your heart, then publish your post the following Thursday and link up to share it with us.  If you don’t have a blog, just write directly in the comments.

TO LINK UP: Click the blue button below: “Add Your Link” and type in the *specific* URL to your blog post (not just the name of your blog). (Subscribers: click here to get there directly).

2) Place the Faith Jam Badge in your post.  It’s a welcome sign for our community, inviting others. Grab the HTML Code above. Thank you.

3) Then, pull up a chair. Visit the post before yours and say hi with a comment. Make a faith friend.

*Today’s Thursday’s 2/6/14 Writing prompt :
It’s our open writing prompt: {Soul Rest}
Just write about anything that touches your heart during your 1-1 time with God.
Spend some time with God this week. Any way you want. Invite Him into your world. Share it with us.

*Next Thursday 2/13/14 Writing prompt:
Love. Share your thoughts on love the day before Valentine’s Day. Let’s be present with each other this coming week.

May the writing prompt bring you to a quiet place inside your soul and spark a soul conversation to share with us in community.

Approach it any way you feel inspired! Only required ingredient: keep it real. Click here to learn more.

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Today’s post is part of Bonnie’s {Beloved} series, where becoming #thebeloved and #soulrest is the conversation. Click here for the entire {Beloved} series.