So I begin. To everything there is a beginning.
This is a start. For clarity's sake, it is the start of my journey as the betrothed of the Lord. He has just asked me to be His, to be His bride. To give all of me, all of my love, to Him alone. And I said yes. And I walked down from the mountain.
Devoted is the story of the Pearl and the Violet. He is the Pearl. The only thing worth having. The priceless treasure that rests deep underneath the waves of this world crashing into the walls of my soul. He is the softest gem, a quiet light. He is tenderness itself.
And His presence is one of sorrow mingled with perfection. For He dug His way under my skin, buried Himself into the heart of me, finding the seams of my soul, so hardened on the outside by the waves. And He tugged, and transformed the insides of me. And it hurt Him and it hurt me. "Those ways in which the soul is unlike God, it is also unlike itself." But it was a good sort of hurt, and when I searched my heart again, I found the exquisite delight of His Pearl. A gift that rests there and will never be pried out by greedy hands. A perfect globe as small as the tip of an infant's finger. Yet still perfect, still able to move this heart beyond its own doubts and hesitations.
And I am the Violet. The one who perseveres. The loyal heart. The one content to be humble, to be a small flower in all the garden of the world. Still lifting my face to the Sun, still in desperate need of His light and glory to feed me. But unable to lift my golden-streaked petal-face to any of the roses or the sunflowers or the irises or the daffodils or the lilies…only to gaze at the Sun in ever-deepening awe and adoration and sweet delight. Small and dark, but streaked with the color of the sun…a reminder of my true nature, a reminder of the glory of what I will be. Crowned with Sun-light.