The metamorphosis was almost complete for she was the guilt and shame, the bitterness and loneliness, the fearfulness and emptiness that pooled itself in the middle of the floor. Her very life force had all but slipped away, absorbing into the fibers of the carpet as she let go.
Letting go – it seemed that her very struggle in life had been holding on – as if she had been carrying around a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle in her hands, searching for the last piece and hoping that no one would come close enough to cause the puzzle to collapse. The puzzle — her life, in pieces. There was no foundation upon which she could carry it – no box top, no cardboard slice, no Plexiglas beneath it to maintain the integrity of the puzzle.
Each piece was a hand-painted representation of all her hopes and dreams, watercolors stained by her tears, faced by the harshness of the elements that weathered what she had so diligently pieced together over the years. But that last piece, that elusive last piece, was the vision and hope that had sustained her so far – nowhere to be found. As she let go the clarity of her hopefulness turned to despair, fading into the recesses of her mind. All hope was lost now. There was no point. She laid the puzzle down. No more searching. No more longing. No more struggling. No more.
As she gazed upon it one last time it too began to melt away. She had come to the end of herself. Darkness had already coveted the room, enticing her further, begging her to follow.
She closed her eyes. The first moments were quiet, like the murky stillness of the ocean bed. As she took her last breaths, her body became heavy, a shipwreck hitting the bottom. Darkness had come to ravage her. “Is there no peace in death itself? She cried out. “If you’re really there, if you really love me, show yourself. If not, let me go!”
Through her tears, she spied a glint of light. It captured her attention. It flickered and danced on the carpet. She watched it; she was mesmerized – momentarily forgetting why she was on the floor in the first place. Where was it coming from? She scanned the room quickly. What is this? That glimmering fragment of light before her was overcoming darkness. There came with it a sense of peace, a sense of intrigue and curiosity that entreated just a few more minutes of her time. She acquiesced. Surrendered. And life began. The kind of life someone lives. Not the surviving kind, the thriving kind. Glory to her Creator and Saviour her solid foundation.
You rescued me with a brief, cool breeze – it penetrated the thickness of the dense air.
Recently, 
She lived in a frigid room for nine months. There were no belly strokes, no songs sung, only the negative vibrations filtered down through the lifeline. Unwelcome.
