Carey grew up longing for love. She received only
bruises
and anger from her brute of a father, though she had done nothing to
deserve
it. A good day was when he neglected her. A bad day was full of abuse.
So to the first man who smiled and said he loved her, she gave all of her heart. Her only remaining innocence was then betrayed. Once he had her in his grasp, he turned into a bit of a monster, a dragon who devoured her love and gave teeth and talons in return. In sheer fear of his brute strength, she let him have their tiny unborn child killed. Afterwards her tired spirit died as well. The dragon beat her, then abandoned her.
“All men are monsters!” she cried, for she had never experienced otherwise.
She wandered in a wood, lost and uncaring. Her wounds bled. Her mind bled. Her feet dragged.
All paths looked the same. There was no sun, no birdsong.
As the sun set she stumbled, worn out, into a little hut. A strong, rich light shone out into the dark from the doorway, though there were very few riches inside. The floor was bare dirt, and there was little furniture. However there was a warm fire on the hearth, and above the flames a pot of stew simmered with an inviting aroma, and an old woman sat beside it, rocking in her chair.
The old woman beckoned her to come and eat.
She cautiously took the meal offered, then the bed of fresh leaves, and sank into a sleep that lasted for days.
When she awoke again, she saw a spinning wheel in the corner, and beside it two baskets: one of prickles, and one of feathers. The old woman smiled and pointed at the baskets.
“Come closer and choose child, and I will show you how to make a cloak – thorns for protection or feathers for peace.
If you choose feathers, I will line the cloak with silk, but you need to forgive all who have hurt you first. Your way to here is the past, choose now your future.”
Though her body was healing, she was still wounded in spirit, so she turned bitter words upon the woman. “You ask me to forgive? You make it sound so easy! You have not known the pain I have suffered. Never will I forget, never forgive! (Nor forgive myself – I let my child be killed.) Never! Give me a cloak full of anger for pain. Make it hurt all those who might hurt me again.”
So she fashioned for herself a cloak to defend herself from hurt:
A cloak to hurt those she hated.
A cloak to inflict wounds.
A cloak of prickles and sharp thorns.
She put it on, though it also pricked her skin, rubbing her wounds so that they would not heal.
She needed to remember the pain, to be pricked to anger for the past.
(And to punish herself for killing her child.)
What were a few thorns.
She was used to pain.
“No-one will ever hurt me again,” she said, and thus wrapped, she went out into the world.
Long years passed. Men left her alone, and nobody dared approach her,
even
those who might have wished her well. The cruel thorns kept them away.
She
lashed her cloak at them all. Her words were thrown like daggers to
keep
them away.
See this pain and anger! I have suffered cruelly! How dare you say life can be good!
Women and children stared, then fled when she approached. “A monster!” one little one cried.
“Is this what I have become, even to a child?” she pondered later to herself.
“My protection has also become my prison, a dark cloak whose prickles face inwards as well as out. Am I becoming to others and myself some sort of monster, full of anger and bitterness? Even children spurn me, I who allowed my own child to be killed.”
Grief and regret flooded her. Weeping she flung herself down on the ground, and asked pardon of her own poor dead child.
“Dear child, I’m sorry. I could not protect myself. I could not even protect you. I had no choice. If you can hear me, please forgive, and have mercy. Teach me how to forgive those who have hurt me, so that I can be rid of all this pain.”
She woke to find a warm fire lit nearby, and a small child hovering beside it. He had pulled away her cloak, (though the thorns had wounded his little hands), and he had burnt it and covered her instead with a cloak of feathers lined with silk - light, soothing and warm.
“This is the cloak you always needed, dear Mother. The cloak of
comfort,
healing and peace. The old lady could offer it, for she wished to show
you
mercy and love, but you wouldn’t accept it into your angry, wounded
spirit.
You have been much wronged, and have been denied the love you always
needed.
She wanted to show you compassion, but you chose to keep your wounds
alive
rather than risk being hurt again. Let them heal now, so that you can
be
at peace.”
“Who are you?” she asked, “Are you Jesus?”
“No, I am your child, who lives with Him. He was an innocent victim too. Evil wounded Him and crowned Him with hatred and thorns. But He chose Love and forgave them. He would not let evil win a place in His heart. He had the power to destroy all of mankind for the evil they do, but He loved and forgave us to bring us to a gift of peace. It is a huge sacrifice to refuse to hate those who hurt us. It is not easy when you are full of pain. But it is worth it. Your past you cannot change, but your future is your own. Say goodbye to the past, and start now on a new path to a happy future. ”
He planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Goodbye, Mother, until we meet in the Place of Joy. I love you. Live your life in peacefulness. Please try to love and be truly loved. Let go of anger and heal your pain.”
Next morning, she thought at first it had been a dream, but she was still wrapped in the cloak of peace, her spirit was light, her heart felt joy, and her eyes could see a new road ahead.
Now that you know her story, if you should meet her on her journey, please be kind to her and show her that you care. With your love, she’ll surely find her way.
So to the first man who smiled and said he loved her, she gave all of her heart. Her only remaining innocence was then betrayed. Once he had her in his grasp, he turned into a bit of a monster, a dragon who devoured her love and gave teeth and talons in return. In sheer fear of his brute strength, she let him have their tiny unborn child killed. Afterwards her tired spirit died as well. The dragon beat her, then abandoned her.
“All men are monsters!” she cried, for she had never experienced otherwise.
She wandered in a wood, lost and uncaring. Her wounds bled. Her mind bled. Her feet dragged.
All paths looked the same. There was no sun, no birdsong.
As the sun set she stumbled, worn out, into a little hut. A strong, rich light shone out into the dark from the doorway, though there were very few riches inside. The floor was bare dirt, and there was little furniture. However there was a warm fire on the hearth, and above the flames a pot of stew simmered with an inviting aroma, and an old woman sat beside it, rocking in her chair.
The old woman beckoned her to come and eat.
She cautiously took the meal offered, then the bed of fresh leaves, and sank into a sleep that lasted for days.
When she awoke again, she saw a spinning wheel in the corner, and beside it two baskets: one of prickles, and one of feathers. The old woman smiled and pointed at the baskets.
“Come closer and choose child, and I will show you how to make a cloak – thorns for protection or feathers for peace.
If you choose feathers, I will line the cloak with silk, but you need to forgive all who have hurt you first. Your way to here is the past, choose now your future.”
Though her body was healing, she was still wounded in spirit, so she turned bitter words upon the woman. “You ask me to forgive? You make it sound so easy! You have not known the pain I have suffered. Never will I forget, never forgive! (Nor forgive myself – I let my child be killed.) Never! Give me a cloak full of anger for pain. Make it hurt all those who might hurt me again.”
So she fashioned for herself a cloak to defend herself from hurt:
A cloak to hurt those she hated.
A cloak to inflict wounds.
A cloak of prickles and sharp thorns.
She put it on, though it also pricked her skin, rubbing her wounds so that they would not heal.
She needed to remember the pain, to be pricked to anger for the past.
(And to punish herself for killing her child.)
What were a few thorns.
She was used to pain.
“No-one will ever hurt me again,” she said, and thus wrapped, she went out into the world.
See this pain and anger! I have suffered cruelly! How dare you say life can be good!
Women and children stared, then fled when she approached. “A monster!” one little one cried.
“Is this what I have become, even to a child?” she pondered later to herself.
“My protection has also become my prison, a dark cloak whose prickles face inwards as well as out. Am I becoming to others and myself some sort of monster, full of anger and bitterness? Even children spurn me, I who allowed my own child to be killed.”
Grief and regret flooded her. Weeping she flung herself down on the ground, and asked pardon of her own poor dead child.
“Dear child, I’m sorry. I could not protect myself. I could not even protect you. I had no choice. If you can hear me, please forgive, and have mercy. Teach me how to forgive those who have hurt me, so that I can be rid of all this pain.”
She woke to find a warm fire lit nearby, and a small child hovering beside it. He had pulled away her cloak, (though the thorns had wounded his little hands), and he had burnt it and covered her instead with a cloak of feathers lined with silk - light, soothing and warm.
“Who are you?” she asked, “Are you Jesus?”
“No, I am your child, who lives with Him. He was an innocent victim too. Evil wounded Him and crowned Him with hatred and thorns. But He chose Love and forgave them. He would not let evil win a place in His heart. He had the power to destroy all of mankind for the evil they do, but He loved and forgave us to bring us to a gift of peace. It is a huge sacrifice to refuse to hate those who hurt us. It is not easy when you are full of pain. But it is worth it. Your past you cannot change, but your future is your own. Say goodbye to the past, and start now on a new path to a happy future. ”
He planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Goodbye, Mother, until we meet in the Place of Joy. I love you. Live your life in peacefulness. Please try to love and be truly loved. Let go of anger and heal your pain.”
Next morning, she thought at first it had been a dream, but she was still wrapped in the cloak of peace, her spirit was light, her heart felt joy, and her eyes could see a new road ahead.
Now that you know her story, if you should meet her on her journey, please be kind to her and show her that you care. With your love, she’ll surely find her way.