A Scrape on my Shell - by Cecilia

Life. It’s hard to explain right now. Here are a few words that might start to touch it. 

Life - chaotic, perfect, clear, foggy, puzzle-piece-ish, leaf-like, life.  Chaos is everywhere. Homework is piling up like never-ending leaves on a windy, fall day.  My home is filled with a new feeling; it’s never in the same place.  Moving furniture used to be like a once-a-month thing, but now it’s more like every day. We got rid of a couch. Dad’s desk is in the dining-room, Demar’s room is filled with donated suitcases. Two TV’s are gone, one is in the garage, the other is… I don’t even know. My shelves are empty, I only have twenty books, and it seems like the house is hatching piles of things – to – get – rid – of.  At the same time, the dusty air is full of perfection.  I thank God a lot more often, now.  I talk to Him and say that this exactly where I want to be.  My parents aren’t getting divorced, my dad hasn’t just come home from a 10-month military tour, I have three wonderful siblings, I don’t live in an old-person-trailer park, my dog didn’t get taken away for being aggressive, I haven’t been to six different schools, I don’t have the pressure of being the popular girl.  No, that’s not me.  I’m moving across the world, yes, even I think it’s a crazy move, but the silver lining is that I’m actually doing it for God.  It’s clear.  I know why God made me. I know I’m a writer, I know why I care for the bully in my school, or the weird-kid that doesn’t talk much.  I know now why, from the start, a bible has been on my bookshelf.  I know now why I love adventure.  I know now exactly why I am who I am, but it is so dang foggy.  I feel like sometimes life makes me want to put my head into my little turtle shell.  I want to push all my emotions out.  When I am confused about Guatemala or insecure, or sad, or lonely, or shoved in the dark, or even just plain tired of all the energy life takes, I can’t just shove it all out of my face.  All of these feelings are becoming part of me.  They are a scrape on my little turtle shell.  A scrape that I will always treasure and keep.  One that even on those autumn days when the leaves seem to never stop falling I can look all around me and think, and know inside my heart that this is who I am. I am a part of God’s puzzle.  One little puzzle piece, one that only paints a stroke of the picture.  Only one little mark, but in every picture the work is complete.  There isn’t a hole where someone is left out.  And I am one of the pieces that makes the puzzle complete.  I am that leaf of that sacred tree which blows in the wind.  I am a little piece, but that doesn’t stop me from completing the picture.  Life: Chotic, perfect, clear, foggy, puzzle-piece-ish, leaf-like, life.