"Blessed are the poor in spirit [the people with no strength in and of themselves; in the original language, a poor person who threw their whole trust on God] for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven."
My friend Heather has cerebral palsy. She's in a wheelchair; she cannot speak, feed herself, or brush her own hair. With effort and a special keyboard, she can type, and so it is through email that I truly know her and have seen her precious spirit. As I stood next to her on Sunday in the worship service, God showed me something that brought tears to my eyes and left me emotionally prostrated. He showed me how much better off than me my friend is.
I am distracted by what I'm "doing" - my biking, my work, my cleaning, my writing, my packing, my coffee - but she is not, because she doesn't have these things. I am always so busy, often forgetting to speak with my Father. She is not; He's the only one who understands her and her greatest joy is pouring out her heart to the One who truly knows. I often close my ears to what He's saying, telling Him, "No. I don't want to learn that yet. I'm enjoying this." She hears and rejoices, because what He has for her to do is what she can do, and she loves feeling His pleasure.
And, standing there, I wept and wished that I was close enough to Him to wish I was like her. I'm not. I'm such a mixed up little being - I want so very much to look good and have poise and enjoy living all out, but I also love Him. So I seek His face and, when I listen, He reminds me that "by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace to me was not without effect." I'm a nut, but He made me that and loves me. Come with me, Father! Laugh with me! Dance with me! Live with me! Rejoice in what I'm doing - lead me to what You want me to do. Come into me and fill me up so that I overflow.
Jul 31, 2007
Jul 24, 2007
Sand & Foam
"Strange that you should pity the slow-footed and not the slow minded, And the blind-eyed rather than the blind-hearted."
"Now let us play hide and seek. Should you hide in my heart it would not be difficult to find you. But should you hide behind your own shell, then it would be useless for anyone to seek you."
"My loneliness was born when men praised my talkative faults and blamed my silent virtues."
"Is there a greater fault than being conscious of the other person's faults?"
"Strange, the desire for certain pleasures is a part of my pain."
"Now let us play hide and seek. Should you hide in my heart it would not be difficult to find you. But should you hide behind your own shell, then it would be useless for anyone to seek you."
"My loneliness was born when men praised my talkative faults and blamed my silent virtues."
"Is there a greater fault than being conscious of the other person's faults?"
"Strange, the desire for certain pleasures is a part of my pain."
( Khalil Gibran )
Jul 12, 2007
as my father told me...
Dating ... is not an evangelistic exercise.
When I started college two years ago, I made a commitment to myself: that I wasn't going to date at least until I'd finished with my four-year-degree. I know myself; I know that, in that type of relationship, I tend to give my heart quickly and thoroughly. I know that I hate waiting and that my "love language" is physical. I know that I can't get married until at least a few years after college. Knowing that, I made my choice.
It's a decision I haven't had any trouble with...until just a little while ago. Now, I have a dear friend who's made it clear that he wants to be more than a friend. I want him. I want him as friend; I want him as more. I can't have him - I've told him as much (albeit in a jocular manner). Still, he's a great judge of character & motives, and I've never been good at hiding from friends. It isn't fair of me to show him that I want him and not tell him why I won't have him.
I need to talk about this, and I avoided it yesterday because...well, because we were just getting back on our feet. I hurt him, I know I hurt him, when my answer to his teasing, "So - you want to date me?" was simply, "No, not really." That was obvious. We were having a good time yesterday. I didn't want to spoil it. I want to keep this friendship - to break the jinx I've had on non-dating relationships with guys. We've known each other for years now. There have only been six people in my entire life that I've considered "Friend". This man is one of them. We consider the same things important; I respect him and I care a lot about him. He's the type of friend that, if I disappear for a few years and then materialize on his doorstep, will welcome me in as we pick up exactly where we left off: with coffee, a bike ride, and a long talk. That means a great deal to me.
I can't play with his head.
When I started college two years ago, I made a commitment to myself: that I wasn't going to date at least until I'd finished with my four-year-degree. I know myself; I know that, in that type of relationship, I tend to give my heart quickly and thoroughly. I know that I hate waiting and that my "love language" is physical. I know that I can't get married until at least a few years after college. Knowing that, I made my choice.
It's a decision I haven't had any trouble with...until just a little while ago. Now, I have a dear friend who's made it clear that he wants to be more than a friend. I want him. I want him as friend; I want him as more. I can't have him - I've told him as much (albeit in a jocular manner). Still, he's a great judge of character & motives, and I've never been good at hiding from friends. It isn't fair of me to show him that I want him and not tell him why I won't have him.
I need to talk about this, and I avoided it yesterday because...well, because we were just getting back on our feet. I hurt him, I know I hurt him, when my answer to his teasing, "So - you want to date me?" was simply, "No, not really." That was obvious. We were having a good time yesterday. I didn't want to spoil it. I want to keep this friendship - to break the jinx I've had on non-dating relationships with guys. We've known each other for years now. There have only been six people in my entire life that I've considered "Friend". This man is one of them. We consider the same things important; I respect him and I care a lot about him. He's the type of friend that, if I disappear for a few years and then materialize on his doorstep, will welcome me in as we pick up exactly where we left off: with coffee, a bike ride, and a long talk. That means a great deal to me.
I can't play with his head.
Jul 6, 2007
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