some gypsy thoughts

do you know what it feels 

like to be delighted in? a 

gypsy’s life is one of never 

belonging. moving constantly, 

she stays but a breath in a 

place, investing in people but 

not seeing a return. she doubts 

that should the going get rough, 

should she show her true heart, 

she would be accepted. giving 

and giving, she finds that the 

people with whom the scales 

are tipped in her favour are few 

and far between (2 have already 

departed for Beulah). perhaps, 

you say, she doesn’t see the 

sacrifices loved ones have made 

on her behalf. perhaps, you say, 

the wounds of friends who’ve 

refused to love (that being the 

only unbearable thing) are 

distorting her reality. 

perhaps. 

this weary world with all its toil 

and trouble may take its toll of 

misery and strife. the gypsy 

finds as she grows through 

heartaches that she is graced 

with the freedom to choose 

bitterness or forgiveness. 

and forgiveness is the silver 

lining on the steps that are 

growing brighter every day. 

see, she knows this isn’t home. 

and she knows that heartaches 

are a part of exile. she can risk 

anew with each new sunrise 

and face because each breath 

is a chance to press deeper into 

the realisation that she could never 

out-give the Giver of all. 

He delights in her. 

and if His gaze is the only one that 

matters—as sweet as the gaze of 

a fellow pilgrim is—she can see 

herself as beauty and a delight.

some allusions: Bunyan, L'Engle, Stuart Hamblen, Ira Stanphill, Robin McKinley