She is afraid.
Afraid of who she is when she’s alone, afraid of lingering in the skin of the one dwelling in the dark secret chambers of her heart.
Afraid too, of stepping into the unknown ride of a faith journey. Afraid that God suddenly wants more than, well…maybe more than she is even afraid of.
The tension of two realms held taught behind hollow eyes sits in front of me, hauntingly surveying my intentions. So afraid.
I watched tears pool in the estuary of her lower lids, fighting a blink from releasing streams of pain welled in her heart. Grimy caverns reside in the vascular chambers, housing basins of dark fears and empty pain.
This portion of love is too much to swallow.
She looked away. Peripheral vision revealed a veil of the unknown, and she pondered what lies behind the curtain of obedience.
I attempted to see into eyes that stared off, acknowledging I can’t pretend to empathize with the fraudulent terror that danced in the shadows on her curtain. All I have to offer is my story, extending a cup of grace.
Shadows cannot exist without a source of Light.
We tread on the battle line, the juxtaposition of two heavenly realms.
Slowly, cautiously, she reached for manna, preparing to taste the goodness of obedience.
We bowed our heads in courage. Together, as she sipped from the cup, tasting Grace.