Shards of glass lay scattered across the faded wood floor in the attic room. A large antique, artistically framed mirror leans against a wooden post, most of its glass gone. Pieces of it cling onto the aged frame, reflecting beams of light. These come through the dusty old window, perched crookedly below the slanted ceiling. I calmly observe the light playing through the floating dust.
Then I hear them.
Whispers fill the room.
Subtle sheens of movement in some of the glass catch my attention. Each wave is familiar to me and tells a story. Carefully, I pick up a piece and smile, lingering at its memory, feeling its warmth swell up inside of me as I hear and embrace the story it conveys.
Music flows from other shards of the mirror. A mixture of happy, reflective, playful and cheerful sounds. Each reveal a story within it, but I realize that the music has created the life which is echoed in its glass. Their messages return full force, bringing forgotten awareness, as real as if it were happening right then.
Another piece displays the innocence and selfishness of youth. With renewed interest and amusement I wistfully observe, relieved at the wisdom that develops with age, but knowing I still have much to learn.
Many of the pieces lay face down. Curiosity invites me to turn one over, but with immediate horror and disdain I thrust it back onto the cold hard floor! A churning feeling rolls within, sickening me. Hot tears flow. Why? How could I? I back away and leave them there face down - to keep their stories within themselves. I cannot bear them now.
Still another piece brings no emotion at all. It is dead, helpless, hopeless. This piece suffocates as I fight to keep it from enveloping me with its clench. This lack of emotion is the hardest to break from. It feels as if it has dark and emotionless, life-quenching eyes. I forcingly break its hold and lunge back, numb.
I cannot walk away nor change it, and yet I cannot fully embrace it. Still, it is my life and I was too pre-occupied to fully notice or understand the implications of how I have lived it. Overwhelmed, I close my eyes, re-focus and am transported. Warmth embraces me and I soak it up. It is a pure and forgiving love. A sense of reward that I do not deserve, but still it holds me closely, dearly. In this moment, it is my only desire and I want to stay here forever.
But my life is not complete. There is more living to do.
Whispers fill my heart.
Come to Me. Lay your burdens on me and I will give you rest.
I breathe in, and breathe out. There is hope.
Again He whispers – whatever things are honest, just, pure, lovely, and of good report, think on these things. You are loved.
I embrace Him, and again He whispers - I will never leave you. No, never.
I whisper...thank you!