True love story

"For You knew that Heaven’s touch

On this poor world would mean so much
So You lived and died, and rose to glory
To begin life’s deepest true love story"
-Bonita Hele

In One Blinding Moment

My favorite Christmas stories this season Part 2

I'm sorry this story is a bit long, but it's worth the read! It made me think a lot. It touched my heart, it convicted me and also washed my vision. It made me think about my past, present and future. And it ended up making me cry out of thankfulness for love, and shame. Jesus, forgive me.
I'll let you read now.

By Max Ellerbusch

It was a busy Friday, six days before Christmas. I was in my instrument repair shop, working feverishly so that I could have all of the Christmas holiday at home with my family. Then the phone rang and a voice was saying that our five-year-old Craig had been hit by a car.
There was a crowd standing around him by the time I got there, but they stepped back for me. Craig was lying in the middle of the road; his curly blond hair was not even rumpled.
He died at Children’s Hospital that afternoon.
There were many witnesses. It had happened at the school crossing. They told us that Craig had waited on the curb until the safety-patrol boy signaled him to cross. Craig, how well you remembered! How often your mother called after you as you started off for kindergarten, “Don’t cross until you get the signal!” You didn’t forget!
The signal came, Craig stepped into the street. The car came so fast no one had seen it. The patrol boy shouted, waved, had to jump for his own life. The car never stopped.
Grace and I drove home from the hospital through the Christmas-lighted streets, not believing what had happened to us. It wasn’t until the night, passing the unused bed, that I knew. Suddenly I was crying, not just for that empty bed but for the emptiness, the seeming senselessness of it. All night long, with Grace awake beside me, I searched what I knew of life for some hint of a loving God at work in it, and found none.
As a child I certainly had been led to expect none. My father used to say that in all his childhood he did not experience one act of charity or Christian kindness. Father was an orphan, growing up in 19th-century Germany, a supposedly Christian land. Orphans were rented out to farmers as machines are rented today, and treated with far less consideration. He grew into a stern, brooding man who looked upon life as an unassisted journey to the grave.
He married another orphan and, as their own children started to come, they decided to emigrate to America. Father got a job aboard a ship; in New York harbor he went ashore and simply kept going. He stopped in Cincinnati where so many Germans were then settling. He took every job he could find, and in a year and a half had saved enough money to send for his family.
On the boat coming over, two of my sisters contracted scarlet fever; they died on Ellis Island. Something in Mother died with them, for from that day on she showed no affection for any living being. I grew up in a silent house, without laughter, without faith.
Later, in my own married life, I was determined not to allow these grim shadows to fall on our own children. Grace and I had four: Diane, Michael, Craig, and Ruth Carol. It was Craig, even more than the others, who seemed to lay low my childhood pessimism, to tell me that the world was a wonderful purposeful place. As a baby he would smile so delightedly at everyone he saw that there was always a little group around his carriage. When we went visiting it was Craig, three years old, who would run to the hostess to say, “You have a lovely house!” If he received a gift he was touched to tears, and then gave it away to the first child who envied it. Sunday morning when Grace dressed to sing in the choir, it was Craig who never forgot to say, “You’re beautiful.”
And if such a child can die, I thought as I struggled, lying in my bed that Friday night, if such a life can be snuffed out in a minute, then life is meaningless and faith in God is self-delusion. By morning my hopelessness and helplessness had found a target, a blinding hatred for the person who had done this to us. That morning police picked him up in Tennessee: George Williams. Fifteen years old.
He came from a broken home, police learned. His mother worked a night shift and slept during the day. Friday he had cut school, taken her car keys while she was asleep, sped down a street. … All my rage at a senseless universe seemed to focus on the name George Williams. I phoned our lawyer and begged him to prosecute Williams to the limit. “Get him tried as an adult. Juvenile court’s not tough enough.”
So this was my frame of mind when the thing occurred which changed my life. I cannot explain it; I can only describe it.
It happened in the space of time that it takes to walk two steps. It was late Saturday night. I was pacing the hall outside our bedroom, my head in my hands. I felt sick and dizzy, and tired, so tired. “Oh God,” I prayed, “show me why!”
Right then, between that step and the next, my life was changed. The breath went out of me in a great sigh—and with it all my sickness. In its place was a feeling of love and joy so strong it was almost pain.
Other men have called it the “the presence of Christ.” I’d known the phrase, of course, but I’d thought it was some abstract, theological idea. I never dreamed it was Someone, an actual Person, filling that narrow hall with love.
It was the suddenness of it that dazed me. It was like a lightning stroke that turned out to be the dawn. I stood blinking in an unfamiliar light. Vengefulness, grief, hate, anger—it was not that I struggled to be rid of them—like goblins imagined in the dark, in the morning’s light they simply were not there.
And all the while I had the extraordinary feeling that I was two people. I had another self, a self that was millions of miles from that hall, learning things men don’t yet have words to express. I have tried so often to remember the things I knew then, but the learning seemed to take place in a mind apart from the one I ordinarily think with, as though the answer to my question was too vast for my small intellect. But, in that mind beyond logic, that question was answered. In that instant I knew why Craig had to leave us. Though I had no visual sensation, I knew afterward that I had met him, and he was wiser than I, so that I was the little boy and he the man. And he was so busy. Craig has so much to do, unimaginably important things into which I must not inquire. My concerns were still on earth.
In the clarity of the moment, it came to me: This life is a simple thing! I remember the very words in which the thought came. “Life is a grade in school. In this grade we must learn only one lesson: We must establish relationships of love.”
Oh, Craig, I thought. Little Craig, in your five short years how fast you learned, how quickly you progressed, how soon you graduated!
I don’t know how long I stood there in the hall. Perhaps it was no time at all as we ordinarily measure things. Grace was sitting up in bed when I reached the door of our room. Not reading, not doing anything, just looking straight ahead of her as she had much of the time since Friday afternoon.
Even my appearance must have changed, because as she turned her eyes slowly to me she gave a little gasp and sat up straighter. I started to talk, words tumbling over each other, laughing, eager, trying to say that the world was not an accident, that life meant something, that earthly tragedy was not the end, that all around our incompleteness was a universe of purpose, that the purpose was good beyond our furthest hopes.
“Tonight,” I told her, “Craig is beyond needing us. Someone else needs us. George Williams. It’s almost Christmas. Maybe, at the Juvenile Detention Home, there’ll be no Christmas gift for him unless we send it.”
Grace listened, silent, unmoving, staring at me. Suddenly she burst into tears.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s right, that’s right. It’s the first thing that’s been right since Craig died.”
And it has been right. George turned out to be an intelligent, confused, desperately lonely boy, needing a father as much as I needed a son. He got his gift, Christmas Day, and his mother got a box of Grace’s good Christmas cookies. We asked for and got his release, a few days later, and this house became his second home. He works with me in the shop after school, joins us for meals around the kitchen table, is a big brother for Diane and Michael and Ruth Carol.
But more was changed, in that moment when I met Christ, than just my feeling about George. That meeting has affected every phase of my life, my approach to business, to friends, to strangers. I don’t mean I’ve been able to sustain the ecstasy of that moment; I doubt that the human body could contain such a joy for very many days.
But I know with the infinite sureness that no matter what life does to us in the future, I will never again touch the rock bottom of despair. No matter how ultimate the blow seems, I glimpsed an even more ultimate joy that blinding moment when the door swung wide.

What about Mary?

I was looking at the manger scene and I thought: "What about Mary? Imagine how things must've been for her...My lord! She was just a teen! I remember researchers saying that she could've been from fifteteen to seventeen years old when she got engaged! How did the responsibility of raising Jesus feel for her?" -wide eyes-
That left me with something to think about and to parallel with my own life.
If it were me, I know I'd freak out at all that I'd have to do and be in order to become a good mother and set the right example for Jesus. I'm sure Mary did an amazing job though, imperfect and human as she was. She was picked out from all the women of the Earth for a reason. I can imagine Mary's tears, sweat and smiles; her effort to do the best she could and the love God had placed in her heart so that she would give it out and let it spill on others. She had the Son of God to love, as well as her fellow men.
And I know that as a human, she also must've failed, like any of us. It's also a fact she was young, quite young when she was given the biggest responsibility a woman could ever have.
Then I thought about my struggle with feeling incapable and giving myself reasons of why I can't do things, why I'm not prepared, how my experience and knowledge are insufficient. These things are true though, I am insufficient, I don't know what to do or how to go about doing things. The point is that all of that doesn't matter. Contrary to logic, Jesus can use that to do anything!
Actually there's logic there: when there's less of ourselves, there's more space for Jesus to fill, take over and use to accomplish His purposes.
My mind's favorite excuses are: "I'm too young", "I have no experience", "I won't do it right" and "I'll fail". But that's because my fears are completely afraid of drowning, burning, dying and passing into oblivion as steps forward are made.
This past year I found out I can do things I thought I couldn't, and do them right! I also fail, but I can get up! I can reach my full potential and I can do the things I don't feel prepared to do, simply because if they're in front of me it means God has sent them for a reason and He's been preparing me for them.
I don't know what's ahead. I just don't want to put limitations on what I'll do and what opportunities I'll take on. I don't care if I feel small and incapable and if I must face my fears to conquer them. I don't care if the world seems to be closing in on me when I'm in the middle of a struggle, fighting for success. I'll do the best I can, that's my job. And I'll let Jesus do all that I can't, that's His job.
As far of fear of failure goes, He and I are burning that one down together.
I'd like to tell you that this last year I had the privilege of meeting glowing individuals! I watched them shine, fill the need, lead a crowd, do things they had never done before and were afraid of doing! They rose to meet the challenges in front of them. And let me tell you, it didn't matter their age! Although some were years younger than me -smiles-, you know who you are.
How many excuses we come up with doesn't really matter. We'll always have to fight them to get to where we're meant to. They're just that, "excuses" -even if I like calling them reasons.
We can't let excuses keep our potential locked in, keep us from doing all we could, keep us from meeting the people God wants us to, keep us from helping someone else. Most of all, we can't let excuses keep us from fulfilling our destiny and living a full life!
What can a young boy or girl do?
One thing is for sure, Jesus has always used the foolish things of this world.
With Jesus, we have the possibility of doing anything!

Surprise Ending

My favorite Christmas stories this season Part 1

By Irene B. Harrell

I turned up the fur collar of my coat against a near-freezing wind as I stepped from our warm station wagon into the bare dirt of a front yard on the outskirts of town. Our adult Sunday school class had chosen the address from a Salvation Army list in the evening paper, and my husband and I had driven out to meet the family. The idea was to find out their immediate needs so that we could provide a merry Christmas for them, and then, more importantly, to work with them throughout the year to try to make a real difference, a Christian difference, in their lives.
We had asked God to guide us to the right family, but now it looked as though the house we had chosen was going to be empty. No smoke came from the chimney, and in the front door there was only a hole where a knob and a lock might have been, once. But when we knocked, the rag of curtain at the window moved and a small face peered out. A minute passed and then the door was opened by a boy about eight years old.
“Hello,” I said. “Is your mother home?”
“Mama not home,” he announced gravely. “She workin’.”
“Well, ah—is any grownup here with you?”
He shook his head.
“Let’s step in for a minute,” my husband suggested. “The house’ll get cold with the door standing open.” The boy moved shyly back and we entered the tiny room.
I’ll never forget what we saw. There was a bed, sagging to the floor, the mattress oozing stuffing at every rip and seam. No sheets, no blankets. A small chest of drawers in the corner held a dusty glass punch bowl with cups hanging around the rim. A Bible lay beside it. On the floor a chipped enamel pan held some lumps of corn meal mush the children had been eating in fistfuls. The black wood stove was icy cold.
The boy who had let us in now stood protectively between two smaller children, a boy and a girl. The girl’s oversized slacks were held together by a safety pin. All three youngsters were barefoot.
And there was a baby. He was lying on a pile of straw and rags that had once been an upholstered chair. He was wearing the remnant of an undershirt and a diaper that hadn’t been changed in a long time.
I thought of my own children and my baby in her lovely birch crib with its clean white sheets and I started to cry. I’d never really seen poverty before.
That afternoon we went back with blankets, shoes, diapers, food, and clothes. Again, the mother was not there. But apparently she’d been home long enough to build them a blazing fire, so hot the children had the front door standing wide open. A coalscuttle held scraps of linoleum from a pile of debris in the yard next door.
The next day we finally found the mother at home. Her name was Virginia and the children, in order of age, were Arthur Lee, Violet, Danny, and the baby David Ray. Virginia was a tiny woman in a yellow bouffant organdy dress. She answered our questions quietly and was not offended that we had come to help.
What did she need most? A refrigerator so the baby’s milk wouldn’t sour, and something for a stove that wouldn’t burn as fast as linoleum.
The class found a refrigerator, a bed, a crib, several chairs, sheets, more blankets. On Christmas, there were toys for the children and clothes and food for everyone. The wood stove was replaced by an oil heater that would not go out while the mother was away. The class pledged the money to pay the oil bills for the coming year.
The family’s immediate physical needs had been relatively easy to satisfy. But what about the Christian difference?
Every week or two my husband and I would go to see Virginia and her family. Sometimes we’d carry hand-me-downs, or groceries, or books, sometimes we’d go empty-handed, just to visit. But she always gave us the same warm greeting. I remember the pride with which she invited me to sit down. She hadn’t been able to exercise that kind of courtesy before, when she had no chairs.
Frequently, our four other children went along with us on these visits, and occasionally we took the baby. I had to explain to Virginia about our baby. German measles during my pregnancy had left little Marguerite deaf. When I told Virginia that the doctors said nothing could be done about it, I could see she was deeply affected.
On our next visit she greeted us with shining eyes. “Oh, Mrs. Harrell,” she said, “I believe God is going to make your baby hear! Don’t you feel it too? Can’t she already hear a lot better than she could? I’ve been praying so hard ever since you told me. I know she’s going to hear!”
I just smiled at Virginia. She didn’t know as much about science as I did. I couldn’t expect her to understand that nerve deafness was not curable. Of course, I had prayed for my child; but my prayers had been ones of thankfulness for her, not prayers for healing. I took the doctor’s words as final.
Marguerite was almost a year old when we first noticed the change in her. For a while we couldn’t believe it ourselves, but at last we became convinced that she really was hearing certain loud sounds. When we took her back to the hearing clinic for testing, there was no doubt about it. Our daughter, whose nerve deafness had been pronounced complete and incurable, had begun to hear! In four short months her diagnosis had changed from “profoundly deaf” to “moderately to severely hard of hearing.”
The doctors were amazed, but Virginia wasn’t even surprised. “God did it, Mrs. Harrell. Didn’t I ask Him for an icebox and a good stove, and didn’t He give them to me? There’s nothing He can’t do, if we just ask Him.”
I stared at her, trying to understand faith like this, reaching out my own feeble portion to try to take hold of hers.
“Mrs. Harrell,” she said, “I’m going to keep on praying for that baby.”
“Yes!” I whispered, “Please keep praying. Don’t ever stop.”
It worked, you see, our Christmas project; it even accomplished the “Christian difference.” Of course, the difference was in our lives, not just in Virginia’s. But then, we’d asked God to guide us to the poor, and He generally knows where they are.

~~~
Even though I cry to think of the state they were in,
I think: "What a rich woman having that kind of faith!"

The Christmas tree

I felt sheer joy to reflect on this. I realized that these could be my words and felt happier yet to think of all who can say the same! I love you!

"A Christmas tree! What a beautiful sight! But what does it mean to me? I wondered, as I gazed at the Yuletide display before me.
The evergreen tree—it symbolizes Jesus, who lives in my heart for good. He never dies away in the winter of my difficulties, but is always with me.
The star on the tip-top of the tree is like that unforgettable star that lit the way to the first humble home of my Savior two thousand years ago. It also reminds me to always look up, that there’s always a shining star of hope, even in my darkest nights.
The baubles and pretty decorations are the good, happy things that fill my life with spice and delight. I don’t take time as often as I should to thank God for all my blessings, or even for the sad things and the hard times that have made me into the person that I am today. Life wouldn’t be life without both joy and sadness, the good and the bad.
The colorful string of lights reminds me of the things God does to light my way through life. “His Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.” I never need feel alone.
And last but not least, the presents under the Christmas tree symbolize my gifts to Jesus. It’s His birthday, after all. The most meaningful gifts are gifts of love—time, friendship, company, giving, forgiveness, and understanding. I give Him gifts each time I give from my heart to others.
The heart of Christmas is not in the presents we give, but the love that we share. This is what makes Christmas."—Amanda White

Sweet Estie, Happy Birthday!!

You make me feel so proud of you, I'm proud to have a friend like you.
You're fighting to make the world around you a better place, you give of yourself and your time to others, you love Jesus first and foremost and you walk on the water with Him. You're in love, you're willing to help, you're a servant just like Jesus, you're a comforter, you're an amazing woman and a sweet, sweet friend.
You mean more to people than you know. You're an angel in disguise, carrying her guitar, lighting candles in other's hearts. You mean more to me than you know. I admire you for sailing out into the unknown, for being a visionary, for doing it for love.
I bet this is going to be the most exciting year of your life yet! You have soo much to look forward to!
From the moment you first blinked you've found treasures along the path of your life and given soo much Love! Thank you for all that love you give Sweetie. It translates into prayers answered, miracles, strength, happiness, protection, fulfillment, health in the lives of others. Cause of that and so much more is Heaven laded with blessings, riches and awesomeness to give you and reward you with! And honey, you're only 18!
I'm so happy to have met you that one time passing by your house in Querétaro. You helped me feel less of a weird bug, sat with me when my stomach was aching, made sure my tea had no sugar, and talked and talked with me.
And just recently we were sitting in a red van with my dad at the wheel, catching up on each other's lives a bit. I remember you looked beautiful and how you matched perfectly with the day! It was bliss to have you there, how you shared your experiences with me, and treasures you've gained by walking alongside Jesus. We hadn't slept much at all and you still managed to look beautiful, why? Cause you simply are! No other explanation! -smiles-
I love you very much my dear and I'm excited about your new year and the adventures that await you, starting today. New grand things! It doesn't matter if some start small. Look at Jesus born in a stable.
My, you're awesome! I wish you the happiest year of your life yet! And I pray you have at every moment everything you need and love in your heart that never dies. Thank you for being such a champ, for not giving up, for carrying on, for wanting to be more like Jesus every day! Estie, you inspire me.

My theory

The most fun things in life...

...are simple.

-huuge smile!-

Roses and thorns

I woke up this morning hearing my mom's voice calling my name and saying "Stephanie, you forgot to put the alarm clock on, get up!" "What day is it?" -I was that lost.
I got ready in record time and only thanks to Jesus I didn't miss my bus. But before I ran out the door I somehow managed to get a quote from my quote bottle, I read: "He who would have nothing to do with thorns must never attempt to gather flowers." I pictured a rose bush in my head and smiled, bearly thinking on the deeper meaning of that quote. I put it in my pocket for later examination.
In a few hours I was in school engrossed in a book, but I let my thoughts twirl downwards and with them went my feelings. It was like losing reasons to smile, reasons to sing, reasons to be happy. It wasn't the thought of one problem that troubled me, it was the thought of them all. I couldn't believe that even the beautiful day couldn't make a change in my mood. "I guess so" I thought. I excused myself, left my book and went to the bathroom to pray. Yes, to the bathroom. I told Jesus I didn't know what was happening to me, that I didn't want to just lose it, lose my joy and crumble at the thought of my little troubles that felt so big to my emotional side. I told him about one in particular, how I was missing someone very much, a person who most likely won't ever think of me as I do of him. When I was done explaining the matters of my heart, I waited for him to do the miracle in my heart and help me.
He did so wonderfully.
I decided I'd work on a project pending. I searched in my computer for something and the results showed a list of poems and stories about gratitude. No idea how it had anything to do with what I was looking for, but yes with what was in my heart. I remembered the quote about roses and thorns I had read in the morning, I had my answer.

I've been countin' up my blessings,
I've been summin' up my woes,
But I ain't got the conclusion
Some would naturally suppose.

Why I quit accounting troubles,
For I had half a score,
While the more I count my blessings,
I keep a finding more & more!

There've been things that weren't exactly
As I thought they oughtta be,
And I often growled at problems
For not a peppin' me.

But I hadn't stopped to reason
What the other side had been,
How much of good & blessing
Had been thickly crowded in.

For there'd been a rift of sunshine
After every shower of tears,
And I found a load of laughter
Scattered all along the years.

If the thorns had pricked me sometimes,
I've good reason to suppose,
Love has hid them often from me
`Neath the shadow of the rose.

So I'm gonna still be thankful
For the sunshine & the rain,
For the joy that's made me happy,
For the purgin' done by pain.

For the love of little children
For the friends that have been true,
For the Guiding Hand that's led me
Every threatenin' danger through!

Beautiful, no? I think so. And it's every bit true in my life.
George Matheson wrote:
"My God, I have never thanked Thee for my `thorn'! I have thanked Thee a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my `thorn'; I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensation for my cross as itself a present glory. Teach me the glory of my cross; teach me the value of my `thorn'. Show me that I have climbed to Thee by the path of pain. Show me that my tears have made my rainbow."

There's no roses without thorns.

Pondering today...

We decide to accept the gifts of love given to us. That we don't choose to take in the love doesn't mean we aren't loved.

I told him: "I need someone to make me believe in love again." (love between couples)
And there He was, telling me that someone was He.

"It's amazing what love can do", my mom wrote. "It makes you feel alive, like you can accomplish anything, like nothing is impossible."

Why do we run away from love? Why do we try to hide from it? Is it because we're so terrified of being vulnerable? Is it because we think we can't handle it? Is it because we are afraid it'll crush us when it's gone? Is it because we want to prove we can be strong without it? Is it because it makes us feel and look like fools? Or is it because it's so great it frightens us, and it's so simple it scares us even more? We can make loving complicated, but love is in fact simple. And it's what makes life worth living.
God is love.

Yesterday's tomorrow

Couldn't have been said better

Today is Yesterday’s Tomorrow
By Jim Rohn, Oct. 4, 2010

The problem with waiting until tomorrow is that when it finally arrives, it is called today. Today is yesterday’s tomorrow. The question is what did we do with its opportunity? All too often we will waste tomorrow as we wasted yesterday, and as we are wasting today. All that could have been accomplished can easily elude us, despite our intentions, until we inevitably discover that the things that might have been have slipped from our embrace a single, unused day at a time.
Each of us must pause frequently to remind ourselves that the clock is ticking. The same clock that began to tick from the moment we drew our first breath will also someday cease.
Time is the great equalizer of all mankind. It offers opportunity but demands a sense of urgency.
When the game of life is finally over, there is no second chance to correct our errors. The clock that is ticking away the moments of our lives does not care who succeeds or who fails. It does not care about excuses, fairness or equality. The only essential issue is how we played the game.
Regardless of a person’s current age, there is a sense of urgency that should drive them into action now—this very moment. We should be constantly aware of the value of each and every moment of our lives—moments that seem so insignificant that their loss often goes unnoticed.
We still have all the time we need. We still have lots of chances, lots of opportunities, lots of years to show what we can do. For most of us, there will be a tomorrow, a next week, a next month, and a next year. But unless we develop a sense of urgency, those brief windows of time will be sadly wasted, as were the weeks and months and years before them. There isn’t an endless supply!
So, as you think of your dreams and goals of your future tomorrow, begin today to take those very important first steps to making them all come to life.

Radiance

A dear friend wrote this for me. I didn't think it'd come to mean so much and be a pick-up for my heart when I was in such need. Ricky wrote it months before some happenings in my life would give it a lot of meaning. It came to be the arms of love and friendship wrapped around me.

Shine on bright, make a sign
I know you can do it

Hold on tight, forget the pain
You can fly to His arms

Take the change, radiance
We know we'll be strong

So now, it seems like everything is gone
But Tomorrow you'll find your Own
Take a look at the sun, 'Cause there's no storm
We'll keep on going on

Step by step, we'll make the way
And our feet won't feel heavy.
When we get there, you won't repair
your damaged and worn-out clothes.

I know you're eyes are not lying
I wonder How could they lie?
When eyes are just little windows
Where we can see what's going on inside.

One thing I would remember when walking along was: "Take a look at the Sun, 'cause there's no storm." And that was for sure. I had been making storms in my head, wallowing in the negative thoughts I'd get. But with Jesus' sun at my center my world was warm, bright and full of light. I had to stop looking down at the puddles of mud formed by tears and take a look at the sun to see the world for what it really is, mud piles, rocky cliffs, ocean and shine. Thank you for the radiance of your friendship Ricky!

Miracles

"It always amazes me to look at the little, wrinkled brown seeds and think of the rainbows in 'em," said Captain Jim. "When I ponder on them seeds I don't find it nowise hard to believe that we've got souls that'll live in other worlds. You couldn't hardly believe there was life in them tiny things, some no bigger than grains of dust, let alone color and scent, if you hadn't seen the miracle, could you?"- Chapter 18, Anne's House of dreams

Simple and childlike

"I realized that my life was to be one of simple, childlike faith, and that my part was to trust, not to do. I was to trust in Him and He would work in me to do His good pleasure. From that time my life has been different, and He has given me that peace that passeth understanding and that joy which is unspeakable." -C.T. Studd, Missionary to China, India and Africa.

Winners

"Winners work at doing things the rest of the population won’t even consider trying."

"When you've paid the price, you expect the gold"
By Denis Waitley, Sept. 21, 2010

One of the most inspirational moments in my years serving as Chairman of Psychology on The U.S. Olympic Committee’s Sports Medicine Council was witnessing the first perfect 10 ever scored by an American gymnast in the summer games, by Mary Lou Retton in the Los Angeles Summer Games in 1984. (Steph's note: this girl was 16 when she won!)
Mary Lou wasn’t born a classic gymnast. She didn’t have the movements of a ballet dancer. She was just 4 feet 9 inches tall, with a compact, muscular body. She said, “I knew I wouldn’t look graceful in floor exercises, or doing those ballerina moves. But I was a good sprinter and I had a lot of power and explosiveness. So I could do some things some of the other girls couldn’t do.”
By the age of 14 she was West Virginia State Champion, and winning gymnastic meets throughout the world. But as young as she was, she was mature enough to realize she needed to do much more. “I needed someone pushing me,” she said. “I needed some other girls around me who were shooting for the same goal I was.”
So, at a time when most teenagers are thinking about anything but commitment, Mary Lou Retton made an enormous sacrifice. She left the comfort of her home in Fairmont, West Virginia, and moved to Houston, into the home of a family she didn’t know, just for the opportunity to train under one of the world’s greatest, but most demanding, gymnastic coaches, Bela Karolyi.
While other kids were watching TV, going to a movie, hanging out with friends, and going on trips, she was practicing four hours a day, seven days a week. Karolyi changed everything she had been doing for eight years, from the way she tumbled to the way she ate. As the Olympic Games drew nearer, she described her day this way, “An eight o’clock workout, then to school, back to the gym for four more hours of work, then homework, then bed.”
A grind? To be sure. Fun? Not much. Then why? Because winners work at doing things the rest of the population won’t even consider trying. She may not have enjoyed the routine, but she loved the sport, the challenge, and the dream. Then, just a few weeks before the summer games, her right knee suddenly locked. Fragments of torn cartilage had broken loose and had become wedged in the knee joint. Less than 10 days after arthroscopic surgery, she was back in the gym for a full workout. There was no time to lose, only time to get ready to win.
In her final event, the vault, Mary Lou needed a 9.95, a near-perfect performance, to tie the Romanian favorite for the gold medal. One writer described her effort this way: “She raced down the line, sprang off the vault, twisted at high altitude, and landed as still as a dropped bar of lead, yet as soft as a springtime butterfly.”
She scored a perfect 10, the ultimate. But to the surprise and awe of spectators, officials and myself, she went ahead and executed the optional, second vault. Incredibly, the result was the same again: a perfect 10.
The only two individuals not surprised were Mary Lou Retton and her coach, Bela Karolyi. He had told her just before her performance: “You’re my little American gold medal winner!”
In an interview, I heard her remark that her self-talk leading up to those two perfect vaults went something like this: “Relax. Concentrate. Thanks for all the car pools, Mom. This vault’s for you. Speed. Explode. Extend. Nail the landing. This is your moment in history. Need a 10, got a 10. Just like practice. Let’s go!”

***

Besides the powerful and obvious reminder: "Winners work at doing things the rest of the population won’t even consider trying" -which I love!-, this article made me think about something else as well. After reading it I looked up Mary Lou Retton on Google and came across an article titled: "Living beyond the illusion of disability".
It stated how many of us are captives, prisoners within the limitations of our own abilities or disabilities. It wasn't just talking about natural or physical disability, like not being able to move the left side of our body, or being very short or having just undergone a surgery, like Mary Lou. It was also talking about the limitations we put on ourselves -mental ones-. It caught my eye, since just today I thought while sitting in Economy class: "How on Earth am I supposed to understand this shit about Economy and how screwed up it is when I don't know much about it firsthand? This teacher is going too fast, argh, besides(prepare for pathetic), I'm just sixteen."
Taaran! I found a self-imposed limitation. It shouldn't be there. But there it is many times so I need to eradicate it.
I think accomplishment has a lot to do with:
1. Working hard
2.Faith. What we believe ourselves to be capable of.
And though it may not be much at times, or nothing at all, Jesus doesn't think so. When we say: "I'm crap." He says: "I love you". And when we say "I can't do it" He says "I can and I'll do it with you"
I'm going to comprehend and learn what my economy teacher talks about without my mind getting lost amongst the facts, terms and examples -determined lil grin-.

"Dear restless heart"

I hadn't found a poem that fit my life, feelings and needs so perfectly till now.

Dear restless heart, be still; don’t fret and worry so;
God has a thousand ways His love and help to show;
Just trust, and trust, and trust, until His will you know.

Dear restless heart, be still, for peace is God’s Own smile,
His love can every wrong and sorrow reconcile;
Just love, and love, and love, and calmly wait awhile.

Dear restless heart, be brave; don’t moan and sorrow so,
He has a meaning kind in chilly winds that blow;
Just hope, and hope, and hope, until you braver grow.

Dear restless heart, recline upon His breast this hour,
His grace is strength and life, His love is bloom and flower;
Just rest, and rest, and rest, within His tender power.

Dear restless heart, be still! Don’t struggle to be free;
God’s life is in your life, from Him you may not flee;
Just pray, and pray, and pray, till you have faith to see.

—Edith Willis Linn, “Streams in the Desert”

So happy

"You will be so happy you waited and trusted, I promise you." -Jesus

Compass

I don't have a sense of direction, Jesus.
Thanks for being my compass.

The very next morning, as the bus drove me to school half-asleep, I spotted a car which had in its rear the word: c o m p a s s. Made me smile so big it jolted me awake.

At all times

"In times of pain, I will bring sweet relief. In times of distress, I will be your comforter. In times of doubt, I will fan the spark of your faith. In your darkest hour, I will be your guiding light. In times of torment, I will be your safe haven. In times of emptiness, I will be your in all." -From Jesus with Love

My first day

“Today is the first day of your life because it has never been before, and today is the last day of your life because it will never be again.”—Frederick Buechner

Windstorms

"Looking back over my life, I can see the beauty that the windstorms have carved."

I want to be able to say this of my life, so I'll march ahead and face the storm.

To my angel-like best friend

When I need to laugh, somehow its always possible with you.
When I'm all tears and blubbering, you hug me and understand.
When I need some arms around me, yours are more than willing.
When my eyes are on the mud, you help me look up at the sparkling night sky and see the best of things.
When I'm sick, you come along and make my heart glad.
When I'm at my worst, you still see possibilities in me, your eyes can see something beautiful.
When I'm all smiles and laughter, you join in singing jolly, silly songs!
When I need an angel, when I need to know that things are alright, when I need to laugh and forget about myself, you're more than ready to fill the need and you don't even notice perhaps, how much of an angel you are to me. But Jesus knows, He sent you along.
Jesus is so wise, so grand, so marvelous, merciful and generous. And knows exactly what we need at the right time and brings the perfect person, the perfect opportunity, the perfect moment to grow and love, to wake us up and remind us that we're alive!
I love you dear!
Thank you for being in my life! Thanks Jesus, you're the best! -huge smile-

Any day of the year

I love it how Christmas doesn't need a certain date in one's heart, cause when you love it suddenly is Christmas.

Taken care of

Stop right now and look out the window and up into the sky. Remember that if I made the world and all that is therein, I can certainly take care of you, My dearest. -Jesus

Thinking of better days

Sometimes I get into thinking:
"I can't wait for this and that to happen", "If only I had just the one to share my whole life with!", "When I get better at doing this or that I'll be so happy!".
It's like putting off happiness, waiting for better days to knock and enter my doorstep.
Why don't I make the better days now?
If I remember that joy and sorrow, good and bad, pretty and ugly accompany us all the while, no matter our ages, state or season, frankly this season can be the best!
There's no reason why I can't have the best of times now. Surely things aren't perfect, circumstances have a knack for changing. And the times I wish I were exactly on the other side of the world with someone just for a few hours, makes me realize that I'd want more, and that with human nature circumstances and conditions won't ever be enough.
So am I gonna let my dreams come true and pass me by because I was reaching out to some other new longing and desire, some other new thing I didn't have?
Will I fail to enjoy my dreams that have already come true today simply because they don't include every single one I want?
If I do, that just makes me ridiculously bratty and so sadly, blind. Honestly I don't know which one's worse.
Let me tell you some about my dreams come true:
~I've got wonderful friends who genuinely care about me, love me and wish to see me succeed.
~I'm with my family: two siblings, mom and dad.
~I have Jesus, fulfiller of dreams, and I know that whatever takes time or doesn't happen here on Earth, there's eternity in Heaven where all dreams do come true.

On the same topic, I'm going to University! Not exactly in my list of dreams for long at all, but it means that my dream of playing a part to have more English literature translated to Spanish can come true, and that perhaps I'll be an useful interpreter one day -grins-!

So darling Jesus, I want to enjoy every step I take and make the better days today! I commit to doing so with your hands touching my heart and opening my eyes helping me to see things as they truly are.
Thank you for all that you are and do! Can't thank you enough.
Thank you!

"I love my wall!"

This story stroke my heart like a benign lightning -smiles-:

One Saturday after our excursion to Pizza Hut, the mall, and a movie, I drove my ten-year-old goddaughter Samantha to her family's new residence. As we turned off the highway onto a dirt road that led to her house, my heart dropped to see that she and her parents were living in an old school bus in a field.
As Samantha showed me around her family's quarters, I began to feel sad that this little girl whom I love so much was growing up in such a shoddy environment. As my eyes painfully fell upon rusted seams on the metal walls, cracked windows, and a leaking roof, I realized that her family had fallen into bare, subsistence living. I wanted to rescue her from such a barren plight.
Looking up at me with her big brown eyes, Samantha asked me, "Would you like to see my room?"
"Okay," I answered hesitantly.
The child took me by the hand and guided me up a makeshift staircase that led to a small wooden addition that had been superimposed over the roof of the bus. I shuddered to observe that her room was in the same condition as the rest of the place, just barely livable. Looking around, I noticed one fairly attractive element of her abode, a colorful tapestry hanging over the one section of the room that could be called a wall.
"How do you feel about living here?" I asked Samantha, waiting for a glum response.
Instead, to my surprise, her face lit up. "I love my wall!" she giggled.
I was stunned. Samantha was not kidding. She actually enjoyed the place because of this colorful wall. The child found a touch of heaven in the midst of hell, and this is what she chose to focus on. She was happy.
I drove home in a state of awe. This ten-year-old saw her life through the eyes of appreciation, and that made all the difference. I began to consider all the things in my life that I have complained about. I realized that in my preoccupation with what isn't there, I have been missing what is here. While focusing on rusty metal, I have overlooked some colorful tapestries. I made Samantha's statement my meditation: "I love my wall!"
Gratitude is not the result of things that happen to us; it is an attitude we cultivate by practice. The more we are thankful for, the more we will find to be thankful for. I heard of a woman named Sarah who lay in a hospital bed after an accident, deeply depressed, unable to move any part of her body except the little finger on one hand. Then Sarah decided she would make use of what she was missing. She began to bless the one finger that could move, and she developed a system of "yes" and "no" communication with the little finger. Sarah became grateful that she could communicate, and she felt happier. As she blessed the movement, her flexibility increased. Soon Sarah could move her hand, then her arm, and eventually her whole body. It all started with the critical shift from complaining to blessing.
Jesus taught, "To him that hath, more shall be given; to him that hath not, more shall be taken away." Jesus was elucidating a supremely important principle. Jesus was teaching the importance of concentrating on what we have or want, rather than on what we lack or do not want.

Dear Ryan

I admire the long way you've come.
You remind me how immensely precious people are.
I admire the life lessons you've learned and that you have the courage to share them with all of us, to show who you are with no shame. That's admirable! -smiles-
I'm so happy that the beauty of your life has touched mine, it makes me feel real thankful.
Granted we don't have enough strength to make it on our own, we need each other, and most of all, we need Jesus.
I'm thankful for all the love and beauty your life exudes; they beauty of your journey, the beauty of your discoveries, the beauty of your fights and the beauty of your love and dreams. It's opened my eyes when I needed it, encouraged me when I was weak and stumbling, and showed me another part of my life and heart I hadn't payed attention to before.
Thank you for marking my life. You really didn't meant to, you were just being you.
Stay wonderful, as you are. But I have a feeling time will only make you better! You'll only get better with time!

Happy Belated Birthday Ryan! -by the time you get to read this, it will be :-*

With eyes of love

It's true, sometimes I don't feel like loving, I feel like caring mostly about myself.
I do need glasses of love at all times, to see things right, for what they are, not for what my selfish human nature perceives them to be.
If I'm not looking at the world through eyes of love, I'm missing out on the true realities.

"Real love never fails someone else by depending only on the love stored in an earthly heart. Real love looks to Me to receive My complete love with which to love others, so that it will never run out. Anything else in the whole world can fail, except that which comes from Me." -Jesus


"When we seek to discover the best in others, we somehow bring out the best in ourselves."—William Arthur Ward