“I saw my story everywhere; a story I was afraid to tell. I saw landscape that was breathtaking, awe inspiring, indescribable, covered in trash, covered in rubble, in broken glass. I saw flowers growing on barbed wire. I saw myself.
I am broken. I am trash. I am rubble. I am pain. I am barbed wire, jaded and trying to keep people out.
Thankfully, that’s not where my story ends. I am redeemed. I am made new. I am being made into something beautiful, something unexpected.”
These are words I wrote after a trip to Haiti almost a year and a half ago now. These words are as true today as they were when I wrote them. I could write the exact same words about India, but to my disappointment, no flowers on barbed wire.
I think I’ve gotten comfortable seeing myself as these little wild flowers blooming on barbed wire, too comfortable. When I picture those little wild flowers I still see myself, but I’m nowhere near the person I was a year and a half ago. The Lord has been on the move in my heart and in my life. I’ve grown and taken steps out in faith. I’ve fallen more in love with my creator and I’m learning how to love myself as well.
A little over a week ago my squad did something called Listening Prayer together. Essentially we all pray together and ask God to speak to us on behalf of each other. We sit still in the presence of the Lord, and we listen. We listen for our brothers and sisters. During this night we even had little notes of paper spread around the room, each with a name on it. If someone did receive a word for a squad member, they could go write it down on that person’s paper to be read after. When the night ended and I got mine back one of the things on my paper was “Violets, I keep seeing violets and hearing your name.” I didn’t think much of it, albeit nice. I like violets just fine, but it didn’t really mean anything to me.
Until, just the other day coming back from a trip to visit a waterfall I saw them. The most beautiful, thriving violets, blooming like crazy all over this barbed wire.
My heart skipped a beat. I knew that was a special gift just for me, one that was literally foretold just a week before.
Breathless and in awe that the creator of the universe chooses to romance my soul in these small ways, I was moved by the personalized message from the one who loves me most.
These weren’t the same as the flowers on barbed wire that I saw in Haiti. These where more alive somehow, more free, thriving. They weren’t just blooming on the barbed wire. They almost looked like they were conquering it, like they were stronger.
Again, I saw myself. I’m no longer fresh wild flowers just beginning to bloom. I’m stronger, more alive. I’m not just being made into something beautiful. I am something, someone beautiful. I am more than a conqueror in Christ. I have victory over every ounce of shame, fear, and hurt that once kept my heart in bondage. I am free and beautiful and thriving.
I am violets on barbed wire.
