Tuesday, April 23, 2013

The Rag Doll

bringing back a story i wrote forever ago. needed this thought today. remember how much worth you have readers. con mucho amor...

The Rag Doll

I open my eyes.
I stare. 
Stare into the reflection that is cast in front me.
I am a rag doll; made up of pieces of yarn.
As I stare into the mirror, I begin to pull.
Pull apart the yarn that holds me together.
“Too fat.”
The voices in my head whisper. A bright yellow string falls off of me.
“Too ugly.”
Now a purple one.
“Too short.”
A deep green one joins them on the floor at my feet.
I work my way from the outside in.
“Too stupid.”
A fiery orange one drops listlessly from my body.
“Too loud.”
Blue slumps to the ground.
“Too opinionated.”
A scarlet red one completes my unraveling.
The voices continue to swirl in the air around me.
The echoes reverberating off the walls, the floor, the ceiling.
“Not good enough. Worthless. Unwanted.”
Then I see a face in the darkness.
He is light. He is warmth. He is comfort.
He picks up all the yarn mounded on the floor.
He asks me why I have insulted him.
I am confused. I ask him what he means.
“I am your Maker. I searched long and hard for the perfect yarn.
I found the right combination of colors;
The right consistency; the right strength.
I wove them together with gentle hands.
I breathed life into their strings.
This yarn is not yours to destroy.”
He takes all the pieces that used to be me,
He weaves me back together once more with a determination that I have never seen.
I could tell he had done this before.
The scarlet red is woven with the blue.
“You are intelligent. You are worthy.”
The emerald green is joined to the mix.
“You are loving. You are kind.”
Orange, purple, and yellow complete my transformation.
You are beautiful. You are Mine.”
Colors once seeming worn, dull, and unsightly become vibrant on my figure.
He asked me if I would help Him now, the way he has helped me.
I wondered how I could ever repay this act. I couldn’t, I told him.
He pointed.
While I was staring into the mirror, lost in my own unraveling;
I had failed to notice others, just like me, falling apart on the shelf.
As quickly as He came, He went.
But I now had a purpose. I was not just a rag doll.
I was HIS. 

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