I am an eighteen-year-old girl who likes to climb trees. It’s spring and I can see the Black Hills in the distance. The world is alive, and anything is possible. I could even fly if I wanted to. Spring tends to get into the veins, as does sunlight. It is cold, but the sunshine is a promise that spring is on the way and will soon be followed by summer, I just have to be patient and wait. The front door to the Shantra house is open, letting in the invigorating scent of awakening soil and green things sprouting.
Our cats have got a bee in their bonnets, as Mom likes to say. They dash up trees for no good reason, and become skittish at the slightest movement. Sometimes their tails flick back and forth as adrenaline runs through their veins and their eyes snap at you. Cats are so small, but they can be blasted feisty, which means that life is never boring having them around and about.
I am a nineteen-year-old girl who is an actor. It’s spring again and the world is full of sunlight and fun events. I am atop a roof; I am the Fiddler and am in the play even though technically I’m not supposed to be since I’ve already graduated high school. Josiah teasingly calls me his ‘imaginary friend,’ since he jokes I’m really an imaginary character in the play; somewhat like a fairy. Christalin and Hannie help me get my long hair into a brain pinned in a swirl atop my head under the red cap. Hannie has some of the most dexterous fingers ever (usually employed in knitting) and Christalin is a little elf child with hair ‘as long as yours, Arielle’ and so loves to help.
Anything is possible as I stand atop that roof. I am an elf-girl precariously trying to scratch out a tune while not falling off the roof. But I am not afraid being up so high, and I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. In many ways I am fearless, and so I shall stand on the roof and play for nobody and everybody. I am imaginary, but I represent Life.
Now I am a twenty-year-old girl. I stand atop the lengthy granite staircase leading to the door to Eden’s, almost level with the tops of the trees. But this is no play, I am no actress. This is real life, and I am afraid.
From the top of the staircase, I can see the world stretching before me. I’m not sure if I am excited or terrified, perhaps I am a bit of both. Adrenaline courses through me; there are so many things to study, so many job opportunities, so many places to go. I can do anything and everything… And nothing. I will study English, have a minor of nothingness made up of country dancing and history, and then become a writer and pray to God that my writings sell.
I am a child playing pretend. I am a fiddler standing precariously atop a roof. I am a college student at the top of the staircase in the sky, waiting until I have to come down to earth below.
I am a daughter of God who must hold my Daddy’s hand or else I will cover my eyes in terror and fall from my high perch. I will hold His hand, and see where my dreams take me. I am who God has made me to be, and I will fly.