Grey clouds
blanketed the sky. Darker clouds loomed ahead, warning of impending rain.
Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance.
A dirt road
wound its way through the countryside. Trees lined either side of the well-worn
path, offering shelter should it be needed. Autumn had worked its wonders, and
the trees were now boasting bright orange and crimson leaves.
Although charmingly placed, this
road was not used often; there were many potholes, which made the road
unpleasant and impractical for travel. It would have made a wonderful Lovers Lane, but
for the potholes. They resulted in many a twisted ankle, and so the road became
deserted.
Well,
almost deserted. Ever and anon, a young person would wander down this path,
seeking refuge in its quiet. For although this road was not good for walking,
it was good for sorting one’s thoughts.
On this cool
autumn evening, a young girl - about sixteen - was walking down this road, deep
in thought. She stared vacantly ahead as the question that had been torturing
her for years presented itself again.
Who am I?
Her steps
slowed, and she came to a standstill. Who
am I? She longed to know the answer. All her life, she had been a nobody. She’d
lived in the shadows, alone and unnoticed. There wasn’t anything about her to
make her stand out. Her features were ordinary and she wasn’t good at
conversation. No special talent had evinced itself in her life. She was
just…normal.
Thunder
again rolled across the sky, breaking open the clouds. Rain came down in
torrents, soaking the ground in moments. The girl remained where she was,
unmoved by the rain.
What was it
like to be loved? Accepted? All she had ever known was the rejection of the
world. What did I do wrong? She had
wondered, time and again. Had she committed some terrible deed? All I want is for someone to accept me for
who I am. Is that so much to ask?
She
continued walking, and almost immediately stepped into a large rut full of
water. Stepping back, she bent and looked at her reflection in the murky water.
She gasped with horror at what she saw.
In the
reflection of her face, she could clearly see every sinful thought she’d ever
had. Her face itself remained immobile, but the images, her thoughts, raced by
like a movie. She grimaced and looked away, ashamed and appalled by what she
saw.
Surely…surely people don’t see that when
they look at me. She ran further down the road and looked into another,
smaller puddle. A chill swept over her.
Blood ran
down her arms. Blood from the wounds she’d inflicted on herself. She could see
every cut. The sight of her opened scars made her sick.
Do people really see that? Do they know what
I’ve done? She hurried to another puddle and hesitated, afraid of what she
might see. Tentatively, she peered into the muddy water.
Her face
was…hideous. Grotesquely misshapen, smeared with mud. Her hair was knotted and
caked with dirt. Never had she seen anything so ugly.
With a sob,
she turned and ran. Ran from who she was. She constantly stumbled in potholes,
getting covered in mud. A couple times, she glanced down at puddles as she ran
past. They contained more images of her life; of her sins. Tears streamed down
her face as words rang in her mind…
This is who I am. This is why no one
loves me. I’m dirty, ugly, perverse... I am despicable.
Her legs
gave way beneath her, and she landed in a crumpled pile on the side of the
road. Sobs wracked her body. She hardly even felt the rain pelting her prone
figure. All she could do was think…and remember…all the evil things she had
said and done. They pressed on her spirit like a weight, dragging her down.
Dizzily,
she raised her head. There was a puddle right in front of her, at the base of a
tree. Only…this one was different. Was it just the mud…? She reached out and dipped
a finger in the dark liquid. No – it was blood. Thick blood, a richer crimson
then she’d ever seen. Curious, and somewhat apprehensive, she looked into the
pool of blood.
Her face
stared back at her, completely normal. And yet…there was something different. Her eyes. They held peace; they shone with
a contentment that she’d never felt before. Her whole face was transformed by
it.
The rain
slowed, as did her pounding heart. She gazed at her reflection, longing for
that peaceful face to be hers. Dared she hope? Her eyes ran up the length of
the tree that the puddle lay beside. She stared at it, warmth suddenly flooding
her cold and hungry soul.
It was a
cross. Tall, cruel, roughly hewn, and yet so beautiful. She remembered the Man
who had carried that cross…remembered the gift He offered. Could it really be?
Could it be that He was truly willing to take all her sins upon Himself? No. She looked down. Why would He? No one has ever cared about me
before.
She looked into the blood again. There it was;
that peace. Contentment. Behind her reflection, she could catch a glimpse of
something else. Someone else. A kind, loving face, with eyes immeasurably deep.
Inviting; calling to her. She found herself drawn to Him.
Oh, God…do You really love me? Are You
serious? Quiet began to settle on her. She scooted over and leaned her head
against the cross, still gazing at His face. I’m willing, God. Whatever You want… Just let me feel like this
forever. Love me.
A tear stole down her cheek. Now,
as she sat looking at her reflection, she knew that this was her true
appearance. All the other puddles…they were the past. All their ugliness, He
had taken upon His shoulders. She no longer had to bear there weight.
This was
what it felt like to be free.
