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The Rug


If you walk in the house, there will be an upper story. Every board will creak as you walk to the stairs, but the age brings comfort. It’s been there before you, and it will be there after you. Keep walking. Up the stairs is an attic space with a rug on the ground. 


The rug doesn’t seem like much, but there is a stark difference between the cold wood with drafts in between and the warmness of the carpet on your bare feet. The minute that you step onto the carpet with bare feet, you know you are standing and what you are standing on. 


You slowly feel compelled to drop to your knees. You might look around to see if anyone is watching, but even as you fight, you know that the desire of your heart will overpower your embarrassment. It’s not easy to come to this point.


Sometimes you cannot come to this point unless the right song is in your ears. There is something about a certain sequence of notes and strings that yank your soul out from the depths and bring it out for you to look into. Emotions you didn’t know you had. Fear you thought you had faced. Love you thought you lost.


Sometimes you cannot come to this point unless the right person has pushed you there. It can be the persistence of a family member, or the single word of a stranger that pushes you over the edge. It is the phrase you repeat in your head and desire to paint on every wall. Maybe if you say it enough times it will make the unwanted feelings go away. 


Sometimes you cannot come to this point unless all else has left. Every floor has given way. Every building has collapsed. Every inn has shut its doors to you on the night you needed it most. This desperation will drive you to the rug.


As you sink further into your knees, and your arms reach in front of you, grasping the blades of carpet desperately, you begin to squirm. Every feeling is plucked from you like a thorn, and thoughts buzz around your heads like gnats and flies that persist past your breaking point. The room is silent, but the rug is deafening. You need something to get your mind off of the task at hand.


Then, something profound happens. The thorns turn to petals, letting you know they are there if you need them. The flies and gnats give up and fly elsewhere. Tears begin to form. It feels as if a blanket has been placed over you, and if you fall over, perhaps you will be caught. With every heave, another cord breaks. A cord on things you were trying to control. The first cord snaps, your plans are set free. The second cord snaps, your future is set free. The third cord snaps, your success is set free. The fourth cord snaps, your self worth is set free. The fifth cord snaps, those that you love are set free. The sixth cord snaps, God is set free. You have not confined him to the backseat or a monthly counselling session. He comes down and wraps His arms around your hurt. He cuts the seventh cord, you are set free. 



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