a letter to the greta I knew a year ago

oh darling girl, let me tell you a story.

let me tell you your story.

it is yet to be finished, so take heed. there are demons and angels and wars involved--I know you won’t believe me. these are wars you never knew how to fight before. wars over music and wars over halloween, wars over the battleground of worth, littered with the bodies of your past selves. 

but you could slay a dragon with the strength of that heart now, and not by firing every gun you have. instead you have learned to remain so still and small that it can't see you, even when you chant insults at it.

lioness, you have learned who your protector and fierce defender truly is.

no, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, not from where you sit now, drenched in longing, soaked to the skin with heaviness, unaware of just how much worse it is about to get. 

and from where I sit now, I grieve for you, knowing I can do nothing but see. 

I can see you as you begin to bear the weight of the unimaginable. it is coming, do not lose heart. though you cannot see it now, I see you knocked off your feet backwards into the snow.

reeling, reeling, reeling. 

I watch you from here, and I am transfixed. not upon the pain, but upon the gem you carry within you, that bright and shining thing we call forgiveness. 

for on the very day you snowangeled, spiraling into the darkest place you have ever known, you carried with you the grace of this gem.

it was your immediate prayer for restoration, for truth and love. your unwillingness to descend into resentment. your invitation to the difficulties of loving every person you come across, despite what they have done to you.

here is where your story begins to read like an epic, let me tell you!

let me tell you what will happen, after your ribcage is cracked open to expose hosts of canaries and coal:

as you come undone, that gemstone will be polished and perfected. like a storybook you will traipse through the bitter winter, the wrenching summer, the mystic autumn. 

you will face demons and call them out by name, covered in the blood of the Divine. you will reach into the deepest parts of you and find ugly things to be tamed and brought into the light, before the throne of the most High God for repair. 

you will wage war against the deepest Love--and you will lose over and over. 

you will lose as your blessings fall upon you like snow from heaven, never ceasing, never ceasing. you will wrestle with them, discard them and try to continue in your own strength. until that day. 

the day you take off your armor, you will feel the rush of joy that accompanies your surrender. the best day, the worst day, the turning point in the battle. 

it is a day very close to me now, and in all honesty I must tell you, I know not what comes next.

dear one, dear one. I write to you as I write to me: do not wring your mind out about what it took to get where you are, for you are being made unutteringly beautiful.

this trial is transforming you into the woman you have prayed and hoped to be, year after year.

she is the one you have dreamed about and seen, peeking out at you from behind your own eyes in the mirror.

she is the one you have begged to be, gracious and kind and graceful. full of hope and self-control,  gentle to the core.

how did you think she was to be born, if not through the death of her self-reliance, and through the breaking of her heart? there were other ways, I suppose. but they were never meant for you. 

sweet one, if you only knew! of course there is no escaping the shattering of your heart; no, there is no running from that. but it is not without the divine seeing you, calling you by name, and placing treasure after treasure in front of your face. 

these are gifts of years-long faithfulness coming to fruition. hidden places and secret whispers laid bare for you, dozens of roses laid down with your beating heart, and intimacy beyond explaining to the girl that you are now. 

He has rainbows and stormclouds for you, sunflowers and peonies, imagery and banners and songs to sing over you. 

if you only knew what  would be accomplished in your immovability! what the stationary pain is turning you into! the grace by which your bleeding pen transforms bitterness into beauty, and the way in which your heart lays down on the railroad tracks and acquiesces to the grinding of the steel. it stops just short of you, listen to how it saves your life!

these are tales of white-hot fear shooting through your entire body, and battles with beings who you cannot see. I know you think I sound crazy, but you have not lived the year that I have. you have not learned yet that this war is about more than we could ever know.

do not be afraid of yourself, deep one. complexity is wonderfully woven into everything you do, and the triumphant victories do not come without the intricate struggles. 

you will go to hell and back this year, make no mistake. but I have seen you. you will allow the road before you be paved with gentleness. 

oh, little one. listen close as I pen you a letter from where I sit now.

a letter to the greta I knew a year ago

november 18, 1:36 p.m.

I know you are an achiever. I know you are a winner. but this year we are, in your words, a loser. we do a lot of what you would call “losing” in the coming months.

this year the punches you throw will do no good. you will not win, and it isn’t because you aren’t capable. this is the year that Love brings you up against a wall that you cannot move.

I know you, you will throw everything you have at it. you will deplete your energy and your resources trying to overcome, trying to prove that you can, trying to prove that you’re worth it. 

but you were never meant to move the wall. this time it is not about what you can do. it is about what is being done to you.

greta, you are being made incredibly pretty. I wish you could see it from here. beauty is being poured out in your heart, mind, body, and spirit--and it comes in the name of suffering. 

this suffering will ask you to stop hating yourself for your inability to heal. it will ask you to extricate what you believe about yourself from other people's words and actions. it will necessitate that you learn how to speak without blame. and the best part is, you will.

you will understand that this trial is about way more than you think it is. 

you will be freed from the shame of thinking you are inferior because you cannot accomplish something.

you will sit cross-legged on your comforter very soon and feel happiness bloom through you, because peace has put to bed your need for revenge.

and together we will learn that beautiful things don’t need to prove that they ought to be loved, remembered, and respected. they know that they already are.