Inspired by: The King of Kings :)
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listened to: prodigal & does anyone hear her- casting crowns; rescue me- crabb revival; she walked away & on my own & I need you to love me-barlow girl; back in his arms again- mark schultz; when she cries- britt nicole
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Quote love <3 : (from an episode of extreme makeover: home edition.) Kassandra (an eight-year-old battling cancer, but all she asked for was help to paint the cancer wing at the children’s hospital she was treated in.)[talking about the beaded necklaces she made to make money for the cancer society.]:“The pink bead stands for love, and it’s on the top because love comes first.”
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Okay so I have been dying to write this blog :) it has honestly been in my stack of ideas for about two years, but now He’s finally given me the go ahead to finish it. It always makes me cry just to think of this circumstance, but lets just say that every girl has wanted to be a princess. :)
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Right now she's laughing as she spins in circles around the room. A smile shines on her face, and my heart is at ease. She's happy for now, and that's all I can ask for.
Taking a closer look, I can see the scars. They cover her legs. Long, ugly scars that mar her beauty to the world, but to me she’s perfect. The world has taken her and made her their own, but she went too far. She lost control. They should have known, no one could have taken what they placed upon her. I cried helplessly as she hurt herself, and I watched the blood pouring from her wounds. It broke my heart; could she not see that she was still mine? They shunned her now, leaving her all alone, but a least it drove her home again. It drove her back to me. I grinned as I looked at her father. A large smile covered his majestic face as she looked back to Him. He’s exactly what she needed. After all, love comes first, then healing. My mind drifted painfully back to the day she ran away, which is coincidently where our story begins.
Once upon a time there lived a girl. She was beautiful, but the years of play had scarred her face and arms. No more was she the innocent baby she once had been. Her hands were black from the dirt of the playground. Her dress was reduced to shreds, the hem frayed, and what little part that remained intact was soiled, the color gone beyond recognition. Her jewelry was gone; most of it was traded for her next meal.
She sat alone on the swing set watching all of the other children with their parents protectively by their side. But she was alone. The desire to go home swelled inside of her, but what if He didn’t want her anymore? She had already messed up so many times. The morning light lit the sky up in purples and blues, her favorite colors. Still ashamed of who she was, she headed home.
Her father stood at the door waiting on her. He picked her up and looked her over before pulling her close into a hug. He sat her on the counter as he gently wiped all the black off, before sending her to the bathtub. But to her surprise, there was a fresh new gown hanging by the door for her to wear. It was beautiful, she could tell that her father had made it special. After her bath, the royal hairdresser fixed her hair, and even powdered her little nose. The princess ran down the stairs to show her father, who smiled proudly at his precious jewel. She looked angelic.
This is where she met me, and I knew she was mine. She was what I wanted, and she was beautiful. She had her little quirks, things she hated about herself, but they only made me love her more. She was special. I tried to advise her to stay out of trouble, but she didn’t listen all of the time, and it was me who carried her home, back to her father. He looked at her with a smile, welcomed her home, cleaned her up, and held a celebration for his returned daughter. And then we would be close again. She shared all of her secrets with me as we fell more and more in love.
Soon she quit talking to me at all. Her circle of friends changed dramatically. I was surprised to hear that she had ran away again, because this time she didn’t want me with her. I listened, waiting for her to say that she’d had enough, but she never did. I watched her fall into the blackness. I waited worried, frantically pacing the stone floor. I went to her father, begging Him to bring her home, but He only raised His hand to silence me. “She’s not ready yet. Don’t worry. It’s in her master plan.” He reminded me; it wasn’t what I was hoping to hear from Him. But I slumped into a chair as I saw the tears in His eyes. He was hurting too. Her activities appeared on the big screen in the throne room, and I couldn’t bear to watch. She was killing herself. All of her activities led to a grave-site, but she didn’t care.
The sky blackened and my tears fell like raindrops as I cried in agony. Blood flowed down her legs from wounds she made herself, but the pills had numbed her. She couldn’t feel the pain. I looked at the King in horror as the dragon appeared. This couldn’t be her master plan. He must have gotten it all wrong, but there the beast stood, just waiting to take her life. I looked back at her father, expecting Him to say stop, but His compassionate face had turned to stone. She whispered something, but to me she might as well have shouted it. “Rescue me.” It was all I needed, I jumped upon my trusty stead and raced to her side. Her beautiful gown was ragged, her skin bruised and scarred. The dragon was angered by my presence, and snorted fire in her direction, but I jumped between them just in time. A loud voice sounded in the deserted rubble of a once great castle. “Leave her be. She’s mine.” The dragon sent her a deadly glare, before rasping “Next time, you won’t be so lucky. I promise.” I carried her back to her father.
The large man looked her over. “I’m not worthy to be here. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.” She said. Her eyes were cast downward in shame, but He raised her chin with one of His fingers. “I’m glad to have you home princess.” This was all it took, and she fell into His arms as she cried. He helped her wash up removing the blackness from her body. I watched as He touched each scrape and bruise instantly healing them. He stopped at her legs and a frown appeared on His face. “I won’t fix these,” he pointed to the scars. “You’ll have to learn that you are beautiful with them.” He continued on to her hair, first washing, then untangling, before finally fixing it. He kissed her forehead, and then clapped His hands. She watched in awe as a gown appeared before her. It was far better than those she had seen before. “Now,” He said with a smile, “Let us all gather and celebrate, because my beloved child has come home.”
Luke 15: 20-24
“And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.
And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am not worthy to be called thy son.
But the father said unto his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet:
And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry:
For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found, And they began to be merry.”
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I didn’t plan on going the whole Luke 15 direction. That just happened. I just told my story. Like I said before, I’ve had this idea jammed in a notebook for like two years and suddenly God was like, Emily, do this now. :) This is the one I’ve always wanted to write, and so many songs inspired this piece, but I told God that it was His when I started, and I asked him to make it beautiful, and He did. When I write, there are times when I have like this complete out of body experience. This is when God temporarily mutes me, and takes over for just a little while. And everything that comes out is amazingly beautiful, because He is the Best Selling Author. That’s when the number one blogs begin to roll out. And I look at people with a smile, kindly thank them for their complement, and tell them that they need to thank God instead. (: Because the one who rigs up all the stars in the night sky, and the one who paints all the colors in the northern lights, is the same one who sat down and penned the words in my brain. The Master Electrician, My Abba Father, God. :)
In Awe :)
Emily Ann.
