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MoonlightDancer16
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Name: Adriella Braidwood
Location: United States
Gender: Female
Interests: God, dance, music, cars, poems, family, food, driving around to random places, swimming, being outdoors, being with friends, taking pictures, goofing off at work, calling random people to say random things, running, reading, writing, guys...hmm...guys...guys with cars! Did I mention guys ?! lol...
Expertise: Dancing my heart out!
Occupation: Paparazzi
Message: message me
Yahoo:  mrs.rider
Member Since:
3/19/2006
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| I’ve been thinking about this thing called grace. I would describe myself as being a victim of grace, but the mysterious thing is, it took me a long time to recognize it. It’s been a long journey, but I remember when it began. When I was fifteen, something inexplicable happened: I started to grow up. That was when I began actively searching for some type of reality that I could latch onto. I was looking to be loved—to find someone who would see me as special, wonderful, and beautiful. I was looking for stability. To settle down into a place of acceptance and security, with no anxieties and longing for what I did not have. I was looking for something to carry me into the future—something that would guarantee a good life and more reasons to carry on. Some type of brightness that led me to believe that no matter what, there would be good somewhere, if only I looked hard enough. In this search for love, peace, faith, and hope, I began to discover something greater than all of this. That was grace: a combination of all of the above, and then some. Often times I would look at my hands and see just hands. Sometimes I’d look at my feet and see just feet. I would look at my face in the mirror and see just another face, nothing so great. But as I grew, learned, and discovered, I began to see a plethora of possibilities. People sometimes see grace as a miracle: when someone is healed of their sickness, or escapes a major accident with no damage. These are miracles for sure, but we begin to forget that every morning we get out of bed is a miracle. My hands, both in place, are miracles,
and so are my feet,
and my face—because God created me. Everyone around me is a miracle because they are alive and breathing the breath that God gave to them. That is what I call grace. Even beyond life: beyond the everyday laughter, the morning cups of coffee—do we look up at the sun rising in the sky every morning and think, “That’s a miracle.”? Whenever I run or walk beneath the skies, or raise my camera to take a picture, I begin to realize what grace is. 
When my friends are all crowded into my car, driving down to the ocean, listening to the Beatles and smelling like sunscreen— 
That’s grace. When I’m riding my bike with my brother, who has a sarcastic comment for everything I say— That’s grace. When I’m upset or crying, or feeling the heavy weight of lost dreams— That is grace. The ability to feel something real, to be alive, to be compassionate, and to care, learn, and grow from our experiences. Grace is when we realize that every day is a gift from someone who dearly loves us, so much that he gave the whole world for us to enjoy, and his son, which he gave to the world. 
That’s grace. 
I’m a victim of grace. Are you? | | |
| those september days seem so long ago
silent as the shadows, dark and slow
and sandswept paths, and whispered nights
stealthily intruding as dreams take flight.
lonely wind, dancing leaves,
foreboding as the chill that we hear in the breeze
creeping in the veins of the blood in the trees,
latching onto us like an obscure disease.
Sing me a song through the window tonight;
brave the bitterness, the desolate bite,
of the breath of eternity
Winter's delight.
I'll stand there watching you, so far below,
in front of the trees, amid all the snow,
I'll walk towards the woods and together we'll go
back to September, long long ago.
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| This evening I got out of work, walked home, and then decided to go for a drive. I got in my car and turned the windows down, put in my summer CD, and headed down the road.
I got about halfway down the road when I realized that something felt different. And then I realized that it wasn't some thing that felt different. I felt different.
And then I realized that I was happy.
Then I started thinking about how lucky I was. I have two jobs-one I absolutely love, the other which I enjoy. I have a car that I bought myself-people might look at me and think "daddy's spoiled little girl," but I earned all the money for this nice car myself and did all the research-and I haven't had a single problem with it. I have the opportunity to go to a great college; I have amazing friends and a roommate that I not only get along with but also thoroughly admire. I have the best family ever. I have an awesome camera. I have great music. I have good health-the last time I was sick was when I had pneumonia, and it was because I was sick that I met Ryan who is still one of my best friends.
The more I thought about everything, the more real it became. And I thought about a promise I had made to myself on one sleepless night when I felt completely and utterly alone-I felt as if my very existence was just a waste. A mistake.
The sun was beginning to set and the shadows were growing long. Every leaf on every tree was golden in the setting sun. Even the grass seemed to glow. The sky was clear except for a few fleeting clouds. Everything seemed alive. One second I could smell the grass and the breeze, the next second I turned onto a busier street and could smell cigarette smoke, and pizza, and laundry soap; and I could hear the roar of cars and trucks beside me, and the singing of the wind on my face.
It was such a perfect ending to another summer day that I felt like crying or singing-I wasn't sure which. And I could hear my music and the music in the car next to mine. And every car that passed had their windows turned down. And I thought, in this moment, I'm happy to be alive. And I'm so happy that moment makes up for everything that I've gone through already-if I had only known then what I know now...
But maybe, deep down, I did know.
Then I thought-what if none of this matters? What if sadness AND happiness are both pointless? This thought only stopped me for a second before I realized that I didn't really care.
So what if there is no God, or if God doesn't care and the whole world is a joke? So what if there is no after life? So what if I fail a class next semester, or have my heart broken again, or lose a friend, or get into a car accident someday?
The sky is pretty to-night;
I could worry some more; I could write books on all the things I worry about; I could worry forever and ever and ever and ever!
but it's a beautiful night,
it's a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful night...
(its a beautiful night tonight)
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