My name is Alex, and I am a words girl. I think I always have been. I have always been fascinated at how the combination of 26 little letters can create pictures in the heads of readers, plant simple and complex ideas into open minds, draw the strongest of emotions, wreak havoc, promote well-being…even start revolutions.
Lately, it seems that my life can be defined by the seeking and developing of single words at a time. Last season, my word was “Peace”. In my prayers, I told God that if I had peace, I could do anything. And I did. I learned that His peace truly does surpass understanding, and that when you become OK with that, you’ve got it.
This season, I felt the word God gave me was “Growth”. I’ve been delving into and exploring not only what it means in all its facets and complexities, but how it applies to my life in this moment. After a long, drawn out attempt at a blog post that turned into a journal entry wrought with tangents of self-reflection and riddled with way too many metaphors, I decided to consolidate my ramblings into the following piece. I hope it speaks to you, and tells you what you need it to.
Growth comes softly, silently,
In the thick of the daily mundane,
Spreading roots under the soil and creating anchors where there were none;
Whispering promises, both feeding and feeding on the smallest
And greatest of hope, for she discriminates not.
She is sister to wisdom and partner to peace,
They are locked in a bond and seldom seen separately.
Growth also happens in a clash exponentially loud:
A burst of bright colour and explosion noted from miles away,
Marked in the pages and dotted on the timelines of those who see her then
As a day to remember for always.
She shoots through the darkest of earth reaching blindly
For the light she’s only met in dreams;
Spreading anchored fingers wide underneath and stretching up
Until she is no longer the earth’s little secret.
Now catalyzed with the light and warmth from star not-so-distant
And drawing nearer as she rises from the rich ground that sustained her,
The shoot becomes a vein, pulsing life into green palms and
She begins to resemble her father.
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