My voice has been quiet for far too long. It's been silenced by fears - fears of being seen, being heard by the wrong people. Fears of being found out and exposed. Fears that by writing and sharing my truths, I will hurt people that were once a big part of my life. I'm not brave enough yet to share my truths under my own name, but I'm ready to take this step in becoming who I'm called to be. I'm using all the courage that I have right now to take this step, to start to share my words with the world again.
There has always been something about Ezekiel 37 that has captivated my attention. The idea that dried out, remnants of the dead could be brought back to life. It's my prayer for myself and the intent of writing again here. There have been too many things that I killed me, stolen my dreams, ravaged my heart and left me as a heap of bleached bones lying in the middle of the desert.
I'm choosing to believe that I have a God who is powerful and can not only bring those bones back together, but can make us dance - literally and metaphorically. The season of stripping away is turning into a season of becoming. I spent the last year learning what it meant to hush and to be hushed. To be comforted in sorrow, held while inconsolable in grief and quieted even in the midst of the storm. The year before, I needed to learn that I had choices, I could choose - I was no longer a victim, brainwashed and trapped. I could make difficult pain-filled choices that lead me towards freedom.
Now here I am, standing on the edge of become - and I have nothing left. There is nothing in me that can become something new, something different. There is nothing in me that can take the remnants of the past and breathe life into them. I am dependent, a place that I hate to be and yet one that I'm learning to embrace as freedom.
My bones are rattling in response to the command of the Life-giver and my Creator. One day, I will dance again in joy and in sorrow, in praise and in worship, for I will have become alive and whole.