Monday, April 22, 2013

Love never fails

1 Corinthians 13 New International Version "If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." As he clearly states in Psalm 136, God's love endures forever- His love is all of these things, never failing, patient, kind, never rude. He fully knows us. We are fully know and fully loved by a God who's love is perfect. The best part is, His love is free.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Lace up shoes

Liza bent over and laced up her shoes. These delicate riding shoes had been bestowed upon her years back, during her earlier riding years. Liza's feet were small and seemed to stay this way, so replacements were not needed, nor were they desired. She never wanted to get rid of these shoes. They seemed to have special powers that made riding blissfully easy. She new they had no real power, but she could always dream. There were many a day when riding was the last thing on her mind. But just like the dedicated person that she was, she would reluctantly lace up the mystical shoes and trudge down to the stable, and instantly, wearing those shoes, and galloping along on her horse, Penny, her thoughts and plans seemed to disappear and she was spaced out from the trouble of the world, alone with just her, God, and penny. Nothing could stop her. One day she was out with her trusty riding shoes on, and Penny, ready to go. They journeyed out into the field, where Liza would normally bring Penny to a halt, and she would stand and breath in the fresh air, her hair waving behind her. It always felt so surreal, and dramatic. But today, as she breathed in the refreshing scents of the swift wind, something happened. The next moment she opened her eyes, and was flying backward off of Penny, who was darting away. Penny had seen a snake. Liza never laid eyes on it, and never would. She was knocked unconscious, her whole body aching, but she couldn't move. She awoke that next day in a hospital. She wouldn't know it was a hospital until she was told. Liza had lost her sight in the accident. She was blind... blind, blind, blind. It seemed so impossible, so unreal. How could someone survive without seeing the world? How could she ride? She would never be able to use her riding shoes again. Or so she thought. The days passed, and turned into weeks, and into months, and then years. Liza had made a remarkable recovery. Though something about the way she lived, was strange. She would wake up every morning, somehow assemble and outfit with the color system her parents had set up for her, allowing her to dress practically herself. The Liza would go to her closet and pull out her riding shoes, slip them on, lace them up, and guide herself down the stairs. She attended a school for the blind everyday, which she adored. Liza had not sat on a horse since the incident had occurred. She didn't feel safe on Penny anymore. Her parents had another horse, that was stronger and older, which they knew wold never do to Liza what Penny had done. Today, as she was eating her breakfast, her mother came up to her and pulled her up out of her chair. She led her to the front door, opened it and strolled Liza outside. Liza didn't protest, and her mother didn't say a word. Liza knew where they were going, the stable. Liza's mother had never given up on her daughters riding ability's, and she never would. Liza's mother, Rachel, did this every so often, but usually, she had to beg her daughter to even come into the stable, but today, something was different. As Rachel led her into the stable that held Ada, the stronger horse, Liza's body filled with calmness. She was peaceful, and felt so utterly at home. She felt her hand over the horse, and caressed His delicate skin. She felt for the saddle, latched her hand on the handle at the top, and for reasons she wasn't sure of, she pulled her limber body up onto the horses sturdy back, Placed her her feet, which were safely embedded in the treasured shoes, and kicked gently on the sides of the horse. She knew her way out of the sable, blind or with 20/20 vision. She glided toward the track and simply rode and rode, cherishing that breathless, blissful feeling of peace. Suddenly she stopped the horse, and breathed deeply, she didn't know where she was anymore, but her mother and father came up running behind her. Her father, Steven, pulled her off the horse and cradle her small agile body, they were all weeping, though their tears were tears of joy, and not of sadness. Liza prayed silently in her mind, eagerly thanking God for her opportunity to be blind, for the blessing of her parents, and for her aged, lace up riding shoes.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

The window seat

Margo glared out her bedroom window. She sat stiffly perched on her window seat. This seat had been well earned. After begging her parents for years to install one, they had made an agreement with her. She had worked long and hard for that seat. Though today, she was not appreciating it as she should. At that moment she wanted to be doing anything but sitting in her room. Margo wanted to be outside, under her favorite tree, writing, reading, creating. Instead, the rain pattered fiercely on her window, like it was trying to get inside, to wrap around and strangle her. The feelings were mutual. How could it rain in the middle of the first glorious string of warm days? Summer, spring, whatever it was, rain was not welcome. Margo tried to breath deeply, she counted to one hundred, hoping she could think of something else to do, something to take her mind off of her anger. She wasn't even sure why she was so upset. During the school year, being cooped up inside her room on her window seat with a stack of books, always seemed desirable. Today, it was a tremendous burden. She swiftly scanned her room in search of a project, but came up dry. It was all she could do to continue glaring at the rain, somehow thinking, if she continued, it would miraculously subside somehow. Margo could have written inside, read inside, and created inside, but it didn't seem the same. The minutes passed, and turned into hours. she had been investigating her hands to death when she looked up to notice the rain was gone, the sun was blossoming from behind of billowing cloud as it slowly shined rays all over her yard. She jumped up off the beloved window seat, snatched up a towel, a good book, and her notepad, she glided down the stairs with agile steps, and was soon bursting through the front door and onto the walk way. Margo darted to her favorite tree, scanned the premises for bugs, than laid out her towel and sat down. She took a deep breath, taking in the luscious smell of the flowers, and just nature in general. Margo pulled out her note pad, and decided to pen a short little story, seemingly stumped she closed her eyes, to think, and clear her head. Something touched the tip of her nose, thinking it was a bug, she slapped her nose gently and her eyes remained closed. But she felt the touch again. It was gentle and wet. She simply ignored it, but it began to spread all throughout her body, little gentle, wet drops. She frowned knowingly, motionless, dreading the inevitable. Margo slowly popped her eyes open, only to reveal a soaked towel, and a partially damp self. Groaning, she stood gathered her things, trudged into the house, and flopped back up the stairs. Margo didn't bother to change into dry clothes, she dumped her things on the floor, and threw herself back down on the window seat. Sighing dramatically, she resumed her death stairs directing them again towards the infuriating rain. The minutes passed like molasses, and slowly turned into hours....

Friday, April 12, 2013

A day in the life...

Today was not what you'd call the typical day in the life of a "normal" person. But as you may have guessed already, I am FAR from normal. Waking up to see what I was hoping to be a bright sunny shining day. Nada. Dark, damp, dreary, dismal rain. whoop-dee-doo. Well these thoughts didn't occur to me at the time. For I was preparing to go to school. Which I go to once a week. Maybe I'll explain that later. This is not usually a joyous occasion. I may make it look easy, but trust me, it is anything a but a "joy". Though today was not as bad. I was determined to block out these negative thoughts. I gave my worries to God. I made my way down the stairs. Strutting a purple fitted blouse with gold threads, black skinny jeans, and my 5 inch nine west heels. I felt on top of the world. My hair today was pretty much a big fat mess. Now I may not be the hair queen, but usually my hair has a nice volume and fluff to it. Today it was a frizzy uncontrollable flop. Did I try to fix this? No. I had breakfast, and a smoothie. Finally it was time to go, I flopped my heavy backpack over my should (of course wearing flats in the rain while I carry this bundle to the car.) I return to the house, slip on my heels, and strut to the car. As we drive I breath deeply, scanning the premises intermittently, who knows why. I am longing to be home reading my book, that I had been lost in the previous day. But no, I was in the car, journeying the 15 minute trip to school. I arrive at school, make it through my first 3 classes, with surprising enthusiasm. Finally lunch comes, and I am informed that I will be reading my short story first. Let me explain, in my class we all had to write a short story, we had 13 weeks to do so, it must be a minimum of 5 pages and a maximum of 10 pages. I wrote a murder mystery. I was on the edge of my seat as I ate my lunch. I was so excited to read it for everyone, I'm not quite sure why...? It went surprisingly well. It is a bit of a relief I suppose to have gotten it over with, but at the same time, it's like that moment of glory, you're jittery and nervous the whole time before then when its over, you bask in the glory, and then later, you want to do it over, to have that moment of suspense, all eyes on you. The rest of the day was less than cordial, but I made it home all in one piece, not emotional break down today. It's a step. I must hold strong to this word: Emmanuel- If our God is for us, who can stand against. What can mere man do to me? Have a marvelous night, rest in knowing Christ. My rock My fortress.