Renovation /// Soul Flowers

                        

     My hands are still wet from washing the breakfast dishes as my bare feet cross the gravel drive and follow the meadow lane. We are headed away from the chaos and chores for a moment.

     The brave girl next to me takes a deep breath and honors me by showing me the depths of her soul. The recesses where she keeps her cobwebs and diamonds.

     We walk and walk and then dangle our feet off of the worn wood of the dock. Cold water covers our prettily painted toes.

     And we talk. Deep heart talk.

     I feel the walls around my soul fall I take the heavy padlock off of the stone door. 

     Souls exposed, raw, we take communion of the other’s spirit.  

     Hopes, desires, frustrations, worries, burdens, joys, and emotions are pulled out from the dark of our hearts. They come out into the light, the air. It’s frightening at first, but soon those dusty boxes can’t be pushed out the doors fast enough.

     Deep, cleansing, messy spring cleaning for the soul. 

     It is beautiful -- the vulnerability of agapé  love.

     Rubble of the former walls of my soul is all that is left to stand guard. But then again, I’m not wanting a guard right now. 

     I am wanting to renovate – move away the stern, cold rubble far away and plant a meadow of flowers. Flowers of love to cultivate and share with the world.

    Walls only keep out life, keep out love.

    Meadows invite love, light, life in. Open, vulnerable beauty. 

     All too soon there are chores to be done back amidst the hubbub of life. Laundry needs sorted, lunch made, a table set, and closets cleaned. 

     Our path travels back through the grass and over the rocky driveway. Bare feet walking side by side through life.

     This idea of renovation, in my soul, begins to slowly pick up the stones left by the crumbled wall. It draws back and sends the stones flying far away, leaving my soul more and more vulnerable with each throw. 

     Across the house and up the spiral stairwell, I carry a basket filled to the brim with fresh washed laundry.

     Renovation is hefting up a bolder half its size and carrying it away – making room for that meadow.

I’m not sure if I am going to be comfortable with this open, vulnerable soul ready to give away all the love I have. 

     But who said that love is meant to be comfortable?

     Rock by rock, the land is starting to be cleared.

     A counter of dishes needs to be washed, but they can wait. I have some hard questions to ask of that big brother figure, and they cannot wait. 

     For the second time that day my feet tread upon the path that on, just a few hours ago, my soul spilled its inner cobwebs and diamonds. The raw ‘messy beautiful’ of my spirit has watered the purple and gold flowers beneath my feet.

      I don’t start of easy. I fire hard. 

     The boy takes a deep breath, searching for words, then bravely shows me his heart. Raw, authentic, and vulnerable.

     I wasn’t expecting this. 

    Renovation, gaining strength, begins to tear down the parts of the old wall that had been left standing. 

    The earth we walk on now has been watered by three souls.

    I’m a bit taken aback and it’s a good thing that the boy is still talking, because I don’t have the slightest knowledge of what to say.

     I just listen and I begin to see through the eyes of another. 

     He’s stopped talking, so I hit hard again, but this time he is quicker to answer.

     Time after time I throw those hard questions right at him. Each time he catches them – rarely fumbling. With every catch he shows more of his soul.

     I marvel at the bravery of those who allow their souls to be seen.

     I am humbled by the knowledge that I am not the only one who struggle, the only one who fails. 

Renovation has nearly cleared away the entire wall. All that is left is the door, once so heavily padlocked, and the door frame. 

     “RUN!” I hear my soul scream to Renovation “Knock it over!” 

     Running, Renovation hits that door that used to keep the world locked out, and knocks it far away. 

I am free of that wall of captivity.

     The field is cleared – ready for planting. 

     I turn my head so that the boy can’t see the tear slip down my cheek. 

     My walls are gone. Gone. I can have flowers!

    “So, tell me what you think. Your honest opinion.” I hear the boy asking me. 

     I bulk.

     I start running to bring back the stone that once protected me from questions such as this. I want protection! 

     But, Renovation stops me and points to the ground.

     I see a perfect, lovely little flower.

     I had not seen that the moment my soul’s wall fell, flowers had started to sprout. Slowly at first they grew, but with each rock that was carried away, they grew taller and more in number. 

     Gently, methodically, I reach down and pick the flower from the soil of my soul. 

     “My complete honesty?” I ask the boy.

     He nods.

     And I reach out and give that young man a flower from my soul. He doesn’t see it, but I do. 

     An agapé flower.

     I know that at times I may try to build those walls back up, but then, as I carry the rocks back, I will see the meadow of flowers and drop that rock. I will see the authentic life growingup to Heaven, and I will leave that stone death behind.

     We have no more questions left, so we just talk, sharing our cobwebs and diamonds. And flowers, of course!

     Soon we are called to head back. The dishes are waiting impatiently. 

     I hand soul flowers to everyone I meet. 

     The sister who helped me start the renovation, puts the words “Showing Grace.” before our eyes. Along with a soul flower. 

     Soul flowers are growing abundantly. 

xoxo Em