Bruised and Broken

Surrounding and Surrounded

I am here, so near

Touch me, feel me, see me

Yet I’m beyond your reach

Stretching away, beyond measure

Leaving you behind, leaving all

I am alone

Surrounding and surrounded

Uncontainable, distant, unknown

And yet caged, held captive

Restrained, held by invisible chains

But I am free

Wild and dangerous

Violent and untamed

Fearsome and unpredictable

I am awesome and powerful

But I welcome you, small one

With gentle arms           

With comfort and pleasure

You will be safe

And happy

But you will be wary

Though you love me

You do not know me

I am a mystery

Despite your searching

You cannot wholly discover me

And what remains unknown

You will fear

Find your inner woman 17: Forever young

The other day I walked into a bank to open an account and as I followed the petite, smiling banker to her desk she asked me if "we" were opening a teen account today...

Last week someone at youth group thought I was there as a student rather than one of the leaders...

At church on Sunday a kindly lady asked me what grade I was in...

Remarks like these used to really upset me but I think I really have come to terms with this young face of mine. I mean, what really is there to be upset about? Of course, everyone wants to look older when they are young and younger when they are old but isn't it all rather silly? What is the basis of this bizarre need to be viewed a certain age, even if it's just the age we actually are? It's not like we have anything to do with how old we are. It's not like I can take pride in my age or even ownership.

A person's days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed - Job 14:5

My days are not my own. James says my life is only a vapour. Not exactly ample reason to stress about how many years I have had. Rather it's what I do WITH them that matters.

So I'll be "forever young" I guess, until that magical day when perhaps I will look older. I am who I am. Perhaps being "ageless" has it's perks. Perhaps it doesn't. What does it matter anyways? Perhaps we should just not judge people by their age or how they look, there's a thought...

After all God uses the weak against the strong and the foolish to shame the wise.

Where does that leave me? At the realization that I should see the person, not the stats written on their passport.

Besides sometimes I feel like a ten year old anyways... who's to judge?

Not knowing

All this time not knowing
Where you are, where you're going

Hidden mostly, sometimes showing
Shining little, softly glowing

Behind the clouds that go on snowing
Swept off by wind that's ever blowing

And time keeps stretching, somehow slowing
Dull and dreary, nothing growing

But like the river ever flowing
Still we wait in hope, unknowing