A detour into winter

This was a writing prompt on a facebook page this morning. You were supposed to write the first few lines of a story based on the image. I don’t usually do those things, because I never really have good ideas. But I saw this picture and had to write something, because it has snow in it, and I love snow.

The “story” I wrote is below.
Read it, then I’ll talk about it.

“…I’d dreamt of snow. For all the time I’d been trapped in that place, it was the memories of such beauty that kept me going. Kept me coming back to myself when I’d felt I was on the brink of losing my mind. Kept me from succumbing to the darkness. Kept me human. And I was human --- broken, aching, traumatized, yes…but still a person. Still alive. And now, free. Free forever. Free to spin around amid dazzling snowflakes; free to laugh like the child I hadn’t been in years, the child that had been stolen. Free to live…to heal…to let go of the past.

I looked over at him through the drifting flakes, watched his eyes sparkle as he watched me. My best friend, my rescuer…the one who hadn’t given up the seemingly futile search, who had come for me when no one else had. The one who knew the pain in my heart…and did not scorn me, but instead loved me through it. The one who had stolen me back from horror…and given me a chance to be innocent again.

He closed the distance between us, took me in his arms. Held me to his chest until I could hear his heartbeat. …And then we danced. Danced to the mysterious, never-ending song of freedom.”

I wrote that from the perspective of a girl who had been trafficked, then found, and was seeing snow for the first time since her rescue. I wanted to make the guy her brother [he is too young-looking to be her father], but everyone else’s interpretations of the picture made it seem like they were in love, and that would have been weird. So I just made it her “best friend” and “rescuer”.

…But as I read back through it…I realized what I’d written. And how it could so easily be something…else.

Something far more spiritual than I’d intended at first --- I am the imprisoned-then-set-free girl; Jesus is the rescuer.

It could be taking place now…or it could be heaven, when the fairytale ending reveals itself to be just the beginning.

…I was the girl trapped in darkness, holding on to only memories of what once was. The broken, aching, traumatized girl; lost, with no real hope.

…But now I am free, free forever. Free to live, to heal, to move on, to dance, to laugh with childlike innocence --- because someone came for me: My best friend, my rescuer.

He didn’t give up what appeared to be a futile search for me. He came when no one else did, went where no one else would, or could, go --- went into the darkness and got me out. Stole me back from my captors. He knows the pain in my heart, and he doesn’t scorn me --- instead, he loves me. He has given me the chance to be what I was intended to be; he has given me the chance to start anew, to be restored. He holds me until I hear his heartbeat…until I know what his heart beats for: …Me.

And with him, there is freedom.  

…There is only freedom.