I like writing stories and poetry, and this is my true faith story that I have written from a different site. I just wanted to share it with you all, if interested. I call my story "Keeper of Light." It has imagery in it too
. Ok, here goes:
There was always something about me that seemed so vulnerable.
Of course, every human being is vulnerable, and I am not any different than the rest of you, all in all. We're all vulnerable. We've all been used, and all will continue being used and lied to…no matter how much we may deny it, or how hard we try to attempt it from happening again. The Enemy is here, and powerful. His hate is strong, and we've all fallen victim to it. We're vulnerable to the Enemy.
But…this is my story. And I was talking about my vulnerability.
There was always something about me that seemed so vulnerable. I began hating myself at an early age, after being teased and ridiculed about my body. About my eccentric, ratty hair. About my quietness, my shyness, and how I refused to say nasty, rude things back to the ones that were hurting me. But I was always quick to cry, and cry I did. Eventually crying wasn't enough, and I wasn't sure where to go. I only knew one thing, and that one thing I learned about myself was from the others. I learned that I was ugly. I was ugly inside and out. I was unwanted, I was despised, I was ridiculed, I was a burden on this planet. And nobody would give a **** if I died. Despite reassurances from the ones that loved me and cared about me, I followed what the majority said, because according to society, according to what I was being taught, majority beats minority. Majority matters more. And I was taught in school about evolution, about survival of the fittest, and that being the reason we are here. If I wasn't fit enough to survive, if I no longer wanted to go on, then I shouldn't be here…right?
"Right," a voice finally told me in my head as I held the razor. "God has forsaken you. There is no God. And you? Why, you are nothing. Nothing. Nothing."
I listened to that voice. But no matter how many times I cut, how many times I swallowed pills, how many times I tried to suffocate myself, I always lived. And it frustrated me. What was I doing wrong? Nobody wanted me here. Nobody understood me.
Then, a little white dove flew into my thoughts. It told me not to worry. It's beauty had lightened me for a small moment, and I was in absolute awe. You shall keep the light, it said. Be a keeper of light…trust in God…
But soon after, a crow followed, dark and ugly, red eyed and crazed and hungry. When the crow began to screech, all bad thoughts returned to my head. If God understood me, if He were real, He would have helped me out by now…right?
"Right", that voice had told me. "So if you aren't dying, yet you don't care anymore…Why should anything you do matter?"
And this, my friends, is when things became absolutely horrible.
I would sneak and consume medicine and alcohol to take away the pain, to take away that empty feeling inside. I would bring down positive thoughts others shared with me. I would look for ways to piss people off, to hurt people like they had hurt me. It was only fair. That little dove I mentioned? It would come back in my thoughts, in my dreams, but I didn't want to listen to what it had to say. Why should I? I had the good old crow, who was going to give me pleasure. I was ugly, and the only people I felt that wanted to be with me were girls. Soon I focused on the unmistakable beauty of girls, and told myself I wanted to be with one. After all, it was always the women who told me I was beautiful. Surely this is who you are, the crow said. Men hate you. The girls treated me in ways I always desired to be treated. After more and more guidance from the crow, I began to be sexual immoral with girls. After all, this wasn't a forced attraction based on self-pity, right?
I gave up on caring, I ended up lusting after all, I let myself down and punished myself by hurting myself, and all the while the crow was begging in my head for more and more. It was pecking my mind with its sharp, forceful, convincing beak. And since my body was so disgusting, I hurt myself even more my eating little to not eating at all, then purging until my throat ached. Nobody confronted me about it, and I concluded that nobody cared. Just like the crow had told me.
I had no one, truly, to trust but the crow. After all, I enjoyed what I was doing…right? No, I didn't. But I knew no other way. The only other way, I felt, had failed me. One day, after a depressing day in college, somewhere where I should have been grateful to even be at, somewhere where many events made me want to quit everything…I couldn't take it anymore. I screamed for the pecking in my head to stop. "Stop hurting me! Stop hurting me! Stop…stop hurting me…"
I remembered the dove that tried to deliver the messages to me, but I would not accept them. And where was I now? Now that I needed the dove? Now that the crows truths turned into lies?
I was alone in the dark. I was falling in a completely black place, and I kept on falling for what seemed like forever. I knew that the smack would eventually come, and I was waiting for the end. It would take one smack against the bottom of this place, and I would be gone.
And then it spoke to me.
"Why won't you fly?" The voice was a chirp, but not a chirp too joyful or a chirp too melancholy.
"I can't." I replied.
"You don't understand. You wouldn't understand. You couldn't understand."
"He understands? He understands all the pain I and so many others go through, yet He is silent? And you try to tell me he understands."
"God knows. He hears the cries for help. And He provides opportunities. He tries to speak to all. You have to go through hard, painful events in life to truly live. But if you try and push Him out your life, like you did…then it won't be any easier on you. You have to put your faith in Him."
"But…the others told me he didn't exist…there's no way…not possible…"
"And why not? Why did you let the ones who care less persuade you? Why did you let the Enemy continue to hurt you? And why not follow me when I came to you?"
I had no answer for the dove. I was falling, yet still in thought. I had no true answer for this beautiful being. I began to do something I couldn't…no, wouldn't allow myself to do for a long time. I began to cry.
"Oh Lord…if you're there….Oh Lord, forgive me…"
"He is here." The dove assured me. "And He is forgiving. He is not going to let you fall."
Immediately, I stopped falling. It was a similar feeling as the abrupt stop of a roller coaster after going many miles an hour, in loops, in high and low hills. But in this instance, there was no pain. After my stop, I saw a candle. The orange flame stood out to me, its saturation high and attractive.
"This is the flame that has been inside of you this whole time." The dove's voice sang. "It is a very good thing we rediscovered this, is it not? See how small the flame is?"
It was a very small, thin flame, that was true. Small, yet beautiful. I instantly felt worried and somewhat protective. I wanted something glorious like that to be higher, to be greater.
"Please, it is so small…" I sobbed. "I have to help it."
"Dear Beautiful, do you wish to be better?" The dove asked.
Beautiful. A word that was foreign to me, especially when it was talked of referring to me. It was a word I refused to associate myself and so many other things with. The dove spoke it, however, and then way its voice said it…it made me realize that it was true. All this time it was true. The dove repeated the question, and I responded.
"Do you wish to know the Truth, to search once more for that answer that you so refused to accept many times?"
"Do you have sacred curiosity? Do you realize the Holy Realm is closer to you than you think?"
"Then you should know, this is a sacred flame. A flame of Faith. You are a keeper of Light."
"Keeper of light?"
"Yes, the light the Lord has given you and everyone else. But this flame, you must always hold it. You must take care of it, and make sure nobody tries to ever take it away from you, or blow it out."
The flame then began to grow, and I reached out to the bottom of the candle. I held it between my shaky hands, and they instantly stopped shaking.
The dove then began to sing me a soft song:
Keeper of the Light,
You must stand strong.
The Enemy shall never touch it.
Open your heart,
Be wise, Be wary,
When your days are filled with light bright as the sun,
Or pitch black as the night sky.
And on pitch-black days,
Let the candle count for your absence of stars.
And when the Enemy tries to blow out your flame,
Yell, "In Jesus Christ, I have so much to gain!"
That little dove? It was a lot bigger than I thought. And that flame? It grew. And ever since, each day, it continues to grow. And so does yours.
This world is not an easy place. It all seems like one big endless race. But trust in the flame the Lord gives thee, and as it grows, you will Blessed Be.