Cozy

This is not my typical blog. Generally, a thought sparks, and I flow with it. Today, however, I am but a vessel of words, exhausted by the task of holding them all in. I must deplete myself of their presence... Eventually they will come together to form one idea. But the process in creating harmony between them may indeed be a journey!

Wow, I really should be writing my paper for english right now. That, along with putting a binder together for women of the Bible since it's due next week... actually, I really shouldn't be online at all right now. This is me being a poor student.

It is true. I am dramatic. I tend to exaggerate my voice, laugh too melodically, and whisper too loudly. Sometimes I assume everyone understands what each one of my looks mean, and I feel honestly saddened when I realize someone does not know how to read lips. Especially in church. Cory McCool taught me this valuable trait of lip-reading. As he led worship, he would to talk to the sound men in the balcony, sometimes telling them to turn such and such up, fix this microphone, or perhaps to mute sister so-in-so who sings off key.

I'm not really sure what's wrong with my car, but it's sincerely infected with a disease most unpropitious at this time. There is but a mere hope of it recovering, and I am deeply grieved. My precious 1992 Oldsmobile... dear Aunt Jemimah–the car whose timing chain runs about as slow as a cold bottle of maple syrup–she may soon go on to be with the next victim of her hypocrisy. I'm telling you, she is a pathological liar. Everything the check engine board warns me to check is in reality perfectly fine, while everything else is falling apart, leaking, and sending me haywire in search of a mechanic who won't take advantage of my femininity. I know nothing of cars... and it's painfully obvious. The guys at Ray's Fender-Mender see me walking in to their greasy oil shop with my skirt and clicky high heels and they begin to count the ways they can sucker me into buying headlight fluid. I'd rather be in a coffee shop across town with blueberry tea and a fantastic book, and they know it.

But..a cup of tea can change my entire day. Coffee may normally induce a more calming atmosphere for me as well; but tea, specifically, is the ultimate form of peace in liquid form I have yet to discover. A simple cup of cozy is all it takes to bring me back. Back to my senses. Back to my thoughts. Back to myself. I am forever indebted to its familiarity and comfort. I firmly believe that a lady ought never be without one good box of teas, and a cup into which she can pour this delightful diamond of a treasure. I prefer the vanillas: rooibos, chai, french. But you decide what brings you back. A cup of cozy may be the beginning
of a new day for you. mmmmmm.......enjoy.

Cold Water

John Chapter 4 tells a story of Jesus speaking with a woman that no one of his kind would dare associate himself with. She was a half breed– a dirty Jew, if you will. Yet Jesus, the Messiah, the HOLY one sat himself next to her, and started up a conversation. Not only did they talk, but he shared with her something that would change her life forever... He offered her eternal life.

The illustration he gave was simple. He tapped into her everyday life, and used the scenario they were living in– A well. Jesus told her that choosing Him would be like choosing water from a well that never went dry.

Now, the question isn't, "Did this woman understand the parable," but rather we should ask ourselves, "Do I understand the parable Jesus gave to me?" Jesus said that we are to be "salt and light" in the world. Salt to flavor and preserve the world around us. Light to show the way. But the funny thing about salt... is it's not just used to add flavor... it makes people thirsty, too.

Do our actions cause people to want Jesus, or turn away from Him...?


Dennis An Original Masterpiece « Videos « The Skit Guys

"Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away, but she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart, and as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast, and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there. Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another, and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?"

Beautiful Belle was this such fair maiden who would learn to love this unkind, growling beast of a man. A princess in the truest form, if you will, Belle had become my role model. In the midst of such a materialistic, beauty-driven society, fairy tales like Beauty and the Beast, stories my aunt told me, and morals my mamma taught were shaping my heart, and I was being shown how to love from the inside out... rather than base opinions from the outer shell of a person.

Tonight, however, it is not of Belle's character that I wish to expound upon. No, there is something else to be pondered, which has nothing to do with Belle at all... but rather The Enchanted Rose...

You see, there was always something special about the enchanted rose in this story. Never had I seen one, though I knew they existed. And though I didn't know where to find one, I always wanted one. I had it all planned. When such flower would appear into my imaginative life, I would then proceed to place a beautiful glass covering to around it, protecting it from the outside elements of this cruel world. Forget a dozen roses from "Tall, Dark, and Handsome,"..... I wanted this One ENCHANTED Rose!

Before the Beast was given true love, he was given a rose... A rose to protect and to cherish, above all other things in the castle. This is evident because of the way he lost his temper so badly, his yelling causing Belle to ran away in fear! Clearly, this rose must have been extremely important...

Though this particular magical flower is entirely fictitious, I've come to the realization that in reality, I have been given an enchanted rose as well. In fact, many of us hold within us a single rose for us to protect...

Could it be True Love? "Twuu Wuve..." (I am now imagining an old, wiry-bearded man with an infamous lisp, and nasally voice performing a wedding ceremony for Princess Buttercup and Prince humperdink...though this is not the point I was trying to make. Sigh... ADD never fails to remind me of it's existence in my life...)

The point I do intend on making, is this:

For years, perhaps, we have watched as love passes us by. Our rose begins to wilt, and slowly, petal after petal fall from it's blossom. And we may wonder, "When will I fall in love?" But we must protect our rose. If we are so focused on our soul mate that we lose track of our soul's fate, what good is falling in love anyhow?

Like the beast, we have been given an enchanted rose. A rose of sharon, if you will. A relationship with the only perfect man we will ever encounter... revealing to us the truest love of all.

I Have a Secret...

Day one

Dear “Secret Valentine,”

Upon waking, I knew it would be a wonderful day. I enjoyed a peaceful morning, and ensured that I left enough time before class so that I could go downstairs and fill my cup with tea. I even took sincere care in picking just the right herbal combination from my tea box. As I began to walk through the double doors, something caught my eye. What once was a starch-white wall was now occupied by a most unusual thing. Hanging on the wall adjacent to my room was a picture frame filled with smiles and a beautiful lyric, Hanging from it’s spine was a most gorgeous letter. Twine tied around the delicate paper, holding it in place, and a seal of deep red beckoned me to open it. “For your eyes only...” It was a secret! Feeling quite like a little princess, I looked around the hall (as if I would find a clue as to who this was from.) Perhaps this was an incredible birthday present from an incredible friend...?
I let out a squeal of excitement, and set my books and tea cup down, exchanging them for the antiqued letter on the wall. Oh, how the words melted my heart! And yes... I did smile. The signature, however, was foreign to me. My Secret Valentine? We hadn’t even begun the festivities... What could this be? Needless to say, I spent my “tea time” being dazzled by your poetic genius. And I must say, it was a fair trade...
So, my dear Secret Valentine, I write this letter on behalf of my gratitude, excitement, and even my thrill. I am sure these act of sweetness cannot compare to the grandure of the bestower.

Leah Gerth

gloves and prayer closets

It's no secret that I'm quite the girly girl. i appreciate the feminine things in life, and having pretty hands is no exception. But once i started my job on the farm, green thumbs, and stained finger nails became the norm. no matter how much bleach i used, i just couldn't get my hands to look clean (let alone pretty). it came down to me having to clip every single nail down short, and accept having rough hands for the summer. But i wouldn't settle. Surely i could find another way. the thin latex gloves i was provided with easily ripped and just weren't strong enough for the job. but then i discovered rubber gloves. Something so simple was the miracle i needed. and i willingly deal with sweaty hands in order to have clean, pretty hand and finger nails.

how much effort do we put towards getting our miracle? the answer to our prayers? sometimes, a simple bedtime prayer isn't going to do the job. sometimes, we need to get into our prayer closets, lock the door, and stay on our knees for a while. sometimes we need to keep the food in the fridge instead of our stomachs. sometimes we need something stronger.
is it worth it to you? how badly do we want our miracle...?

if God knows more about my happiness than i do, then maybe i should let Him be the author of my life. i can get so frustrated, and irritated at the events taking place in my life, (as if i could do a better job writing this story...?) and my life might seem like a tragic comedy rather than the beautiful story God promised me. but one day, He's going to get to the end of the book to display the unfolding of a magnificent story that was once unrecognizable during the writing process.

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face:
now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."
- I Cor. 13:12

i'm holding out for God's best for me. even if that means i'm a little lost in the process.
cuz one day, i'm gonna be able to see all the beauty He was planning from the beginning.

listen...

what does the voice of God sound like? when He calls, does he have a special ringtone for us to recognize Him by? we're surrounded by so much chaos that it's hard to hear his voice. and i personally think it would be a lot more convenient if God used his booming voice and wrote in lightning across the wall to speak to us...

but i truly think that God speaks softly sometimes just to see if we're willing to block out the noise and really listen for Him.



but what about when you DO hear the voice of God... and you don't like what He has to say?

this semester i tried ignoring the voicemail God left me, and prayed that it wasn't from him. deep down, i knew it was, and i even prayed that He would call back with a different direction that i wanted to hear! but that little alert light kept flashing, reminding me i had a message from God... i couldn't ignore the call! even bro. sisco said last week that "the call of God will follow you until you follow it." it's so true.

well, i called on God...

and He asked me why i was asking him to repeat himself...then He said,
"if you're not willing to do the small things I ask of you now, then why should I ask you to do even greater things in your future?"

needless to say, i was frustrated. God's direction for my life didn't make sense at the time. and i was happy with the way things were.

but i had to come to grips with the fact that God knows more about my happiness than i do. (shout out, jules!)

so here's a few things i learned this week with the help of my amazing mom, friends, teachers, mentors, and visiting ministers:

- sometimes God asks us to do something to see if we trust Him enough to do it.
- sometimes God takes things away from us like a parent does with their kids.
- sometimes what God takes away He gives back to us when we've matured.
- sometimes God takes away from us because He has something better in mind.

bottom line, God is God, and i am not.