“You are my hiding place;
you will protect me from trouble
and surround me with songs of deliverance.““I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.“Psalm 32:7-8
It is like a dialogue.
I think I understand something now:
We can’t go around saying and doing things that could send other people under, but everyone does.
That’s one huge difference between who we are and who we ought to be regarding the Light.
How do you truly get to know someone else? My guess would be being there from day one, and staying. That’s the only way, not going back and forth and stealing instants just to feel good, forgetting about them the rest of the time. I truly can’t grasp how it would look like, but how it wouldn’t… I’ve begun to wonder…
I know now, would he come, the things he wouldn’t say. He would bring light, love, laughter, friendship and endearment… we would play and talk and he would want to get to know me without even thinking of going down the road all boys do, with little foolish girls.
He would let me know his deepest self. We’d find darkness that was fought and maybe even scars. I’d delight in every single one, because now I’d get to cherish him as he turned out. Maybe, maybe, I’d even delight in his loving every single one of my own scars, too.
We’d talk about Psalm 139.
We’d cry giving thanks for Abba kindled us into his kids, reading Psalm 23.
We’d fall asleep looking for Him.
We’d laugh, we’d play, we’d look unto our Father’s face. The most beautiful one.
He would never be bothered by everything I once carried, nor by the fact that I can’t eat or drink or go out and lose myself like everyone else in the planet. He’d learn to care for me as I’d start wondering if I could gain the strength and courage to care for him for a lifetime. Yes.
There would be some sort of desire growing from the beginning but we wouldn’t dwell on that, we’ve both grown so much to just turn into kids again. Kids things are kid’s and none of us would be alright with the idea of losing it all due to a swift mistake, so we wouldn’t dwell on it.
We’d wake up one day, him at home, me at mine… and hear, “You can be together,” or “it’s her,” and to me “it’s him.” Or whatever’s necessary around the idea.
And we wouldn’t have any doubts.
We would know everything that troubles our days and nights by that point and a life together would be a dream come true.
He’d ask, then.
I’d say yes.
No darkness.
No breaking.
No sadness.
No loneliness.
No leaving.
No “He’s hard to compete with.”
No lust, for one cannot build a marriage around that; no rushing into what isn’t the answer just to fulfill the void that never fills because it’s filled now with our Father’s very presence, the most beautiful one.
Yes. He’d want to know me forever, instead of making me choose.
He’d never make me choose or want to change my mind if I told him my choice, which would mean losing him because I would never let myself break him like that. Not anymore, I’d rather let us die.
I’m sure now:
He’d look unto my Lord in order to find my heart, and see Him as his Dad, too. And best friend. He’d tell him the way.
He would tell me, too, so no leaving. None.
So this I pray: if it’s for me, let this come true.
In the mean time, a poem from my first book. I wrote it an early summer about eight years ago, at my grandfather’s bedside in a hospital. I remember those weeks a grayish blue, with rain and me and mom running to and fro, from home to the hospital and back again. That’s the year we lost my Grandma, and he followed the following January, Grandpa. I can’t say I miss them, or long for their presence for our relationship was always filled with dread and hardship and longing for a love they couldn’t give, one they didn’t know themselves, but around that time and because of this running to and fro from those days, I was lured into the presence of Another. The One who saved me. He called me to show me a sure refuge I hadn’t seen before and to have me walk the road that would lead me into His temple to learn at His feet. This is where I can draw a line between before and after Him. I don’t mean He just arrived here, he Had always been by my side. The thing is I grew up angry and oblivious, but here I received something from Him to call unto His name, a way of fighting all the anger and doubt with a pen and paper for the first time. And I did. Call Him, that is. With this poem. And He heard.
This one was written in English originally and I did translate it to Spanish when I finished my manuscript. It was hard, because there are things I’ve always thought better expressed in the original that I could never quite set down for my published work, even though it came out beautifully. I’m slow with the translations to English but here’s the poem, the first I wrote to the Lord and one that has been fulfilled every step of the way, by His never leaving me. (Not even when I sure deserve it.)
Hope you enjoy the original:
I hear it in my head, the song of many stories.
“The song”, M.Y. Valencia Parroquin, June from 2016.
It sings of adventures and of hope. It sings of friendships, love, and sometimes even loss. It sings of a never ending mercy and of grace, it sings to my living spirit,
but can I hear it clearly?
I can try to understand it, try to sing along,
but will I ever hit the high notes?
Can I dance to its melody while I walk through this land? For there is none of this song that plays in earths inhabitants mouths, or souls.
Will I ever find someone who knows chords and lyrics well of said song?
Will I ever return home?
While I walk through this land, will I be able to hold on to your hand, Lord?
So that I may still live? Live among this world that makes me feel empty inside?
Why is it that the yearning for my homeland is breaking my soul, paining my heart?
What of my spirit?
If I call out for You, will you come?
Sing to me, for You have never left my side.
Sing to me, for You have never ended the hope for my life.
Sing to me, for I can’t bear another day without your rivers of love, living at the mercy of this world’s loss, crying out for You in this land that is not my own.
For with Your singing I can truly renew my mind, and with Your singing I can cling to Your way with my strongest hold, and leave all my despair behind.
Sing to me, Father.
Forgive me and cleanse me, and I will not die. For Your voice is light and Your Light shall be my life.
Sing for Your are my only Hope, my great Father, the One who loves me most.
And with Your singing I will know, too, that my only Eternal Love is also You.
I cling to Your words, and Your plans,
Ill fight my way out of the dark if I only see Your Light, and at the end of it all You’ll be waiting with open arms, the same way you were from the start. The same way You’ll always be, as long as You’re the one holding my heart.
I dare say my whole work, published and future coming one, was built around these words and not even by my doing but by His hearing me and delivering me from all my fears. Everything for me starts and ends here:
He fought, not I.
His singing has truly set me free.
He clung to me, and found how the dark turned into sickness, and healed me.
He is my life, that’s why I hope in Him, wait, for Him. Live because of everything that comes out of His mouth.
Looking back, He sang. I know He always will. He’s truly anointed my head with oil and I can breathe, and think, and choose now; His loving eyes on mine.
I see it now, so, prayers and joy?
Joys and prayers.
-SFTS
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