Something I wrote in my journal a couple days ago that I want to share. It is long, but I really want to share it. This post is the exception to my mostly-frivolous musings.

I remember her words so perfectly.
Under the silent, silver, sparkling stars her silent frame shook. The tears falling down her soft face was visible proof that deep within her aged body was a heart wrenched and aching from fear and pain.
And oh how it makes me cry to recall her words, remember her honest eyes and shaking limbs. It had been one week from the day, not 15 feet away from the place she rests her head under the moon and calls home.

She was taken and she was raped.

This precious child of God who loves to tell others all about the prophet Isaiah. This precious woman who's prayers are humbly heartfelt. This precious human being who could make a whole crowd laugh at her funny antics and jokes.

She was taken and she was raped.

How it must hurt for her to recall and to retell us this story.
But most of all, of all the pain, none caused her more grief than what her lover must think when he would come back and find out.
Oh how it makes me cry to remember her say, "What scared me the most - even more than the men raping me - was what he would think when he found out another man touched me. I was so afraid he wouldn't love me anymore. That's what I was most worried about. That he wouldn't love me no more."
But he came back.
He found her.

He loved her no less than ever before.

I'm sure he cradled her in his arms, wrapping his warm love around her wounded heart. I'm sure he spoke to her soul with kindness in his eyes and empathy in his voice. I'm sure he found her no less beautiful than when he had left her to go to work.
I can not understand this particular torment of rape that haunts her sleep. I hope to God I never do. But deep in her sad story I find myself. Sometimes I feel that my body, heart, soul and mind have been taken and molested by sin. While I have the free will to resist (unlike my dear friend), I am left broken and grief-filled. Sin is horrifying, tormenting and destructive. And when I come to my Lover - when I come to Jesus - my biggest fear is that he will not love me. How could he? Sin hurts and scares me, but not in comparison to how I'm frightened to come to my Savior touched by another.
But like a lover who's love knows no limits, he cradles me in his arms. He stills my aching heart and lifts up my head. His forgiveness is freely given as he picks up the pieces of my fractured soul. He asks nothing of me, but to come to him and lay my burdens at his feet. What was I frightened of? He wants me only to trust that he can speak to my heart with compassion, mercy and love. Together we triumph.
I will not forget my friend or her story which so touches my own. After it all, her and her lover triumphed over all the pain. Their love grew and she remains constantly blessing others with her testimony and truth of the gospel. If I could only bless others in a fraction of the ways she has blessed me...

I have to post in order to keep my xanga. So this will have to do until I make a proper post.