Alabaster Heart

A girl throws her head back and laughs. It bubbles out because it's beautiful and misty and that smell of moist leaves is something that returns every fall.

Then everything grows still. And she stops. Leans against a tree. Inhales.

It's like God threw glitter all around her in the colors of gold. But more. Because it's not the vibrancy or hues or sweeping shapes that make her chest rise and fall like dancing leaves. It's those smells.

The dry bark of a tree, scented like cinnamon but softer and clean and musty almost.

The dancing of a creek, throwing water into the air that smells like the first drops of rain on desert ground.

A fresh breeze, tinged with wildflowers.

And always, those tattered, autumn leaves, wet with rain, that God adorned the world with, just for her.

She inhales. Exhales.

And somehow, it's praise.

   

A girl kneels, hard rock against her knees. Her head is covered, skin dark from sun. And her gaze drops. Hands shaking, she tries to thrust them together, keep them from showing how her heart is torn in a million pieces. Tabernacle walls tower around her, tall, ready to swallow her up. Did they know her ugly heart?

But something else stands tall before her. The clean, white ground creeps up into an altar made of fine acacia wood and surrounded by pure gold. Everything, unblemished. Pure.

Yet it's the smell that makes her body tense. A distant smell, like lambs, freshly slaughtered. The blood smell, the death. And it was her fault. Her sin.  She nearly doubles over, gagging.

And then something floats into the air. On the altar before her, a wisp. Smoke. But no.

It's sweet and calming and sweeps all around her. Somehow, the change of the wind makes the incense' fragrance surround her.

This altar is different. There's no blood, no sickening smells.  Instead, she breathes in something delicate but so strong it makes her forget everything else and just breathe.

In. Out.

It's the smell of forgiveness. The smell of a love that transcends all wrongs.






A girl stands, still, in a doorway.

Her hands trace the lines of a flask in her hand. It's beautiful. Smooth, yet with gentle texture like rippling waves. Her treasure.

She rubs it against her cheek, and it's cold, gently. Not biting, not icy, just a gentle touch like a wintery kiss.

But she releases it, holds it before her.

And swallows. Hard.

Yet as the jar lowers, she sees another treasure. Something worth giving everything for.

There's a Man, but He's not just a Man. He sits, laughing with the girl's brother on one side and her sister busily serving. While the girl hid in the doorway.

The Man has his head thrown back, deep brown hair edging His face. And His chest shakes, laugh rocking the house. Rocking her world.

Heat rushes to her cheeks. The memories. Him healing her, drawing her from her pain. Him loving her. Him weeping as she mourned the loss of a dear friend.

He loved. He knew all of her and loved anyway.

But that wasn't the entity either.

He was God. Jehovah. The Messiah.

And He called her friend.

With pink in her cheeks, she steps into the room. Fingers curl around the flask. Food smells rise around her, but she rushes forward. And, at his feet, she kneels, gives her all for the One who gave Himself to her.

She takes the alabaster jar. Breaks it against the floor. And with flowing tears, she lets the incense within pour out onto His bare feet and the dirty ground.

Perfume. The smell of a thousand flowers on a hillside. The depths of love flowing in smooth, soft liquid.

She pours her treasure before Him. And He smiles, again.

Let my prayer be set before You as incense, the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice.

- Psalm 141:2

And walk in love, as Christ also has loved us and given Himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling aroma.

- Ephesians 5:2

~♥~ 

I Once Was Blind

What if you couldn't see color but thought you could?

If you lived in a world full of something rich and deep and beautiful, but somehow you couldn't grasp it. You couldn't curl your fingers around it. It seeped through. Fell.

But you didn't know. You thought you still held it in your palm, and you squeezed tight. Yet it was all gone.

Because you couldn't see the color. You lived in a world surrounded by beauty, but you forgot to look up and see it. Your eyes were glued to the ground, but you didn't really see that either.

Or maybe it's just me.

Sometimes, I can't see color.

 

When I wrote The Torch Keepers, I had a fun challenge. With a blind character, Nura, I had to learn to describe, through other characters, what the world looked like in words to someone who never saw it before.

I imagined how colors felt. How would one describe the texture and depth and look of a rose to someone who never saw it? How can you describe a sunset in a few words?

But since then, I've become blind. Not blind in a literal sense, but I lost the awe-struck expression of examining the beauty around me.

Sometimes I live like the world is black and white.

I can live a whole day and never stop and just study. Study the deep richness of a sunset or the gentle calmness of autumn leaves. Study the way the stars are like gems in an endless sky, the moon adoring them with silver delight. Study the beauty in someone's face, in the words they speak, in a silent look between us.

Or it could go beyond color. It could go to sound. And smell. And taste. And touch. And a million others we can't even describe.

There's this indescribable goodness of God all around us, and we can't even grasp it all, so somehow we forget and miss the point and become so busy with life that we lose it all.

But that's Life:

Savoring Jesus. Savoring His goodness and the beauty He gave us. Those million gifts.

Sometimes I forget to open my eyes. I live like it's night, even in day.

And the reason: I'm not looking up.

I've been focused on me, even when I think it's Jesus I'm looking for. I see how much I fail Him. How weak I am. How I can't seem to muster up joy and peace and grace and so much more.

I'm learning. To look up.

To embrace it. To embrace Jesus and have Him be my all.

To surrender.

And that's when I see color. I see a blue, deeper than ever before. An orange, trickled among the marigolds in our garden haven. A mix of red-brown in trees tinged with fall's embrace.

I have to stop and just see with His eyes. See the priceless faces of people around me. See the color and savor it and smile no matter what life holds. Because Jesus is good.

Color. Beauty. Life.

Not even because of what I see, but because of Jesus opening my eyes to it all.  The beauty is Him. It's a gift, and every good gift comes from above.

He is beautiful.

And I love Him.

That's why I once was blind, but now I see.

You can too. You can be still and know that He is God. He will be exalted in the earth; and we worship.

       

For by Him all things were created that are in heaven and that are on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers. All things were created through Him and for Him.  And He is before all things, and in Him all things consist.

- Colossians 1:16-17

~♥~