"Love Song For a Savior" by Jars of Clay

In open fields of wild flowers,
she breathes the air and flies away
She thanks her Jesus for the daises and the roses
in no simple language
Someday she'll understand the meaning of it all
He's more than the laughter or the stars in the heavens
As close a heartbeat or a song on her lips
Someday she'll trust Him and learn how to see Him
Someday He'll call her and she will come running
and fall in His arms and the tears will fall down and she'll pray,

"I want to fall in love with You"

Sitting silent wearing Sunday best
The sermon echoes through the walls
A great salvation through it calls to the people
who stare into nowhere, and can't feel the chains on their souls

He's more than the laughter or the stars in the heavens
As close a heartbeat or a song on our lips
Someday we'll trust Him and learn how to see Him
Someday He'll call us and we will come running
and fall in His arms and the tears will fall down and we'll pray,

"I want to fall in love with You"

It seems too easy to call you "Savior",
Not close enough to call you "God"
So as I sit and think of words I can mention
to show my devotion

"I want to fall in love with You"

"my heart beats for You"

Coming Home

Psalm 61:2  From the end of the earth will I cry unto you, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

"Coming Home" by Chrissy Zschomler

When I look back at the past, raining
Bright colors that sting my skin
I try to cope by sulking at memories
That are only alive within.

I wish I had that same old shine,
the gloss of each rain's drop.
Yes, it was once long ago mine;
But I persisted to make it stop.

I thought the rain would leave me wet,
cold, shivered, and chilled;
A rain that earlier I thought would make me
Happy, loved, and filled.

Yes, my heart is a compass that points itself
To the East, North, South, and West
I let my heart tear in a mind tug a war
Emotions too busy to find rest.

Soon I get in the car and study the rain
creeping on down the car glass
I can watch the stoplights blur up ahead
and blink as the cars quickly pass.

I soon arrive home, still feeling alone
and write out what I know to be true:
That when I feel distraught and I don't know why,
I'm just glad I can come home to You.

When my emotions want more than I could really have
And they mock my heart covered in glue,
I shrug off what they eat and know I am complete
Because I get to come home to You.

Worry shovels it way to the depths of my heart
And nods at the dark, chaotic view
It enjoys my pain but I know I'm still sane
Only when I come home to You.

There are days when the rain pours down on my head
And the memories they bring seap through,
But the emptiness in my heart that comes with each drop
Is one of the many homes to You.

And I soon realize as I look all around;
The past lying to me with what's true,
That everywhere I go, and everywhere I'm not;
is a residing home just for You.

It's not that You follow, You're just everywhere
I'm so thankful that I know this through and through,
That I follow You, because of this fact
That everywhere is home to You.

One step to the left, or one step to the right,
Or a direction I don't know how to do,
You give me such hope and bless-ed assurance
Cause everywhere is home to You.

And when the temporaries of this life depart from my eyes
and my spirit is fully made new,
I'll say goodbye to the world in rejoice and in love
because I get to come home to You.

At Least I Knew You For Fourty-Five Minutes

You couldn't even remember my name.
Alright, whatever. I'll try to forget yours.
Although it's kind of hard to, considering what your name is...
but, that's not important.
I just wanted you to know, I thought what you said about your dreams was really special.
I guess I would even want to know more of them.
You said you wanted a son one day.
You said you wanted to take your future wife to see the Northern Lights.
You want to be in Star Wars and Batman movies.
You said you really look up to your dad.
You want to live in Oregon because it's pretty and green.
You love the rain.
I'm not really sure if you'll remember my name again, or my eye color, or what my voice sounds like.
I don't really know you that well... I don't know you at all.
I mean, you seem nice, though.
But I just wanted you to know, you've got some beautiful dreams.
I guess I know a part of you, then- I'd say a person's dreams are a huge part of who they are.
I dare you to live those dreams. What's holding you back?
You'll make alot of people happy when you try.
But most importantly, you'll make yourself happy.
If you are as great as your dreams make you out to be... stay that way.

-The Girl Who Won't Be Remembered

PS... if you end up getting a girl, I hear they're pretty great to have, too.

"The Beauty Beneath Our Feet"

Here is what I feel true love is like and will be like. It was written by an amazing author named Josh Riebock, but I changed some of the words around to show how I one day hope to feel, mutually, to my future husband.

Before you, everything was merely an overture. My life started the day we met. Were you cruel for taking so long to show up? Or was I impatient for wanting you to get here sooner? Maybe, but waiting has always been a hassle that I try to avoid.

I like playing card games a little too much, and I tend to worry more in the winter. I will always love pretending and using my imagination. I round almost everything off in my head. I love finding the harmony to any & every song. I like learning things fast, but that often means I don't master it when I learn it.

Will we learn anything by doing it quickly?

It's true-I'm guilty of running into your arms. But also guilty of hoping that, once I'm there, the sun won't set. I'm guilty of wanting to be pulled off the train tracks by you. And guilty too of wanting to lie down with you in puddles of leftover rain. I'm guilty of biking through town, arms in the air, shouting your name. And just as guilty of pausing long enough to collect the words as they spin to the ground, like sleeping leaves from lullaby trees--

Maybe paradise is always somewhere else. Or maybe we're all blind to the beauty beneath our feet. Could Eden be hidden within us right now?

I can't resist a good heart. How many flaws does it take to make me a bad person? And is anyone humble enough to decide? Perfection is boring. I guess that makes us a pair of weirdo outsiders-- I wouldn't want it any other way.

You don't mind if people stare, do you? I love being different, out of the box, weird, crazy, calm, sad, happy, teasing, funny, excited, bored, with you. Overall, I just love being with you.

Few things in life are ever decided. The purpose of the old is determined by our actions in the new. True, my past is no beauty queen, but its got lots of personality. And since the beginning, you've always been eager to pull up the rug of my skin, savor what you find underneath, and show me that today can be just as hopeful as tomorrow.
 

You can find the actual excerpt at Josh's (not a) blog. Wonderful, really. You should also buy his book, Heroes and Monsters. It is my favorite book, written by my favorite author.

A Walk in the Park

My dog is a hunter dog.

No, not for people, or for most animals. Mostly he hunts for smells, and birds. Of course, the birds idea is a pipe dream; so alot of the time he just sniffs his way through bushes, leaves, and dirt.

He's definitely not one of those dogs who just walks along with you without any stops. He's a perfectly trained and well-behaved puppy, he is just curious and gets disctracted very easily. About 3 times every passing minute he must stop to either smell this bush, rustle these pile of leaves, or pee on this tree.

Unless he's doing the latter of those options, I usually lose my patience about after 40 seconds and yank on his leash. It'd be nice to just go on a simple walk with my dog, without any stops or hesitations. Sometimes I just can't seem to wait for him- I've gotta pull him to catch up with me.

As we went on one of our longer walks yesterday, I put myself in Pluto's (my dog's) perspective for a moment. I'd be a heck of a lot more curious than he about the world around me, or what could possibly be in those bushes. My owner would choke me constantly with all the stops I'd want to make.

It made me think of my faith lately. I've been stopping and getting distracted, sniffing through other elements that remain dust compared to God (less than dust, in reality). I let questions of mine, doubt, and fear have me almost run into the street. Good thing God's got a tight grip.

And it's also a good thing that God is patient with me. He doesn't yank on my leash or threaten me to move along or walk faster. He sits and waits patiently for me to notice Him again, and follow Him completely.

Today is Thanksgiving.

One thing I am certain I am thankful for is that God is patient and loving. He knows what is best for me, and even when I get entangled in bushes that don't matter whatsoever; He waits for me to come back to Him.

In general, I am thankful that He waits. So... what else could we do but wait for Him?

Psalm 27:14

"Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart: wait, I say, on the Lord."

A Very Special Audition

There was a small town named Burough Ken in the rustic county called Peep Hole that resided in the hidden parts deep in Southern California. In fact, if you passed it on route 66, the only sure way of knowing you're entering the town is if you see the sign- because if you blink, you'll miss it! "Welcome to Burough Ken, Peep Hole!" it read.

One day, the city recreational team decided to put on a very special musical for all the town to see. The Director wanted to spread a special message across to all the people, a message of love, faith, hope, and more. He needed to pick just the right person to lead the rest of the cast to clearly bring this message across to the people of Burough Ken. So, the city recreational team carried on to put on auditions for the cast- but, most importantly- the lead role.

The line was out the recreational center's door as people lined up to audition for this special play. The hopeful auditioners would complete an application that questions their experience, talents, and what part they hoped for in the musical.

The first person to audition walked in through the doors, past the judge panel, and onto the stage.

"Hello Becky!" the Director chimed. It was almost as if he had known her for a while, when in reality this was their first meeting. "Are you excited to audition for this very special musical?"

"Why yes," she smiled and nodded. "Yes I am."

The Director smiled and nodded back at her. Then, he proceeded to quickly cut to the chase. "What kind of role would you hope for in the musical?"

"In all honesty, I would love to be a dancer. I'm not good at acting, and I'm pretty much tone deaf. I think I'd be best as a dancer."

The Director understood, then scribbled something down onto the clipboard in front of him. "Alright. Thank you for coming to audition for the musical." And he looked right up at her.

Becky shot a confused glare at the Director. "That's it?"

"That's it," he replied, as if there was nothing strange about his statement.

She stood silent and awkward for a moment. "You don't want me to dance, or even sing a piece of a song?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry, you're in the play. You're good to go."

Becky walked off the stage, eyes squinted, reciting the strangeness that had just happened in her head a couple times through.

Next came Richard. When the Director asked what Richard was hoping to be in the play, he was distinctly honest.

"Well, Director, I want to be the lead," he confessed. "I think I have what it takes- dancing, singing, acting, whatever you need; I've got it."

The Director nodded his head. "Interesting. Well, you're in."

The seemingly-experienced Richard was appalled by the simplicity of the audition. "You're kidding... aren't you? You really trust me enough that what I'm telling you is true?"

"Sure," the Director explained, eyes focused on the notes he was scribbling. "You in the play. You may leave now."

Richard stormed off the stage frustrated and confused; having prepared a monologue complete with dancing, singing, and acting that would display his capability- all for nothing.

Auditions went quickly with the Director's special process of the matter. About a hour into the tryouts, a young man came in to audition. He held his head straight forward while giving the Director his full attention- the Director could tell he was a bit nervous, but was not thinking of himself at all. All of his energies were directly on the Director.

"Hello," the Director scanned the young man before him, knowing something was different about this character. "Welcome to the tryouts for the musical. If you could have the role of any part of the musical, what would you be?"

The young man cleared his throat and paused for a moment as he thought.

"Well, Director-" he began, "- I want to be whatever you want me to be."

The Director's eyes enlarged and studied the young man. "Truthfully?"

"Yes," the young man concluded. "I want to be what you want me to be. You know what's best for me and that's all that matters."

"Even if I made you a tree who had no dancing, no lines, and no singing whatsoever?"

The young man nodded. "You know what's best for me."

The Director was truly amazed. All this time, the people who auditioned came in having something they wanted or expected. They assumed that they themselves knew what was best for them, or even that they knew better than the Director, when they came into audition. But this young man- he gave full privilege to the Director to decide his future in the musical and what was best for him. The young man surrendered any knowledge he had of himself and gave full trust to the Director.The Director knew exactly what would be best for this young man.

The Director smiled very largely and clapped his hands together. "Well, I think what's best for you is if you had the lead role, my friend!"

The Cake on my Hands

Today my 4 year old niece accidentaly put her hand in some of her mom's baby shower cake. She felt really bad and apologized to her mom, who is my sister. Then my sister replied, "It's okay, sweetie. Don't worry about it." And then, my neice began to cry.

Why would my neice choose to cry? Maybe she didn't even choose to, rather; it just out poured from her. Maybe she felt so thankful that her mom would forgive her so easily that all she could do was show her deepest emotion she knows/understands- crying.

I couldn't help after hearing my other sister explain this story to me but think of how representative my neice was of a Christ-follower. We as humans can be so wretched, so broken, so imperfect, and mess up twenty-thousand-trillion times; and in return to our mistakes, other humans look down on us, scoff us off, judge us, and hang pictures of our faces in the "wall of shame" they've built in their minds.

But Jesus was like my sister- actually, my sister was like Jesus- and completely forgaves and puts aside whatever mistakes we feel like we've made or whatever way we've messed up.

Lately my small group has been getting into why we believe what we believe. Sometimes I honestly cannot answer this question fully, in fact; it has been difficult for me to answer it lately. I have grown up in a Christian home, so it's easier to believe in Jesus then to not.

But there is one thing I know for certain and feel firm in in my faith:

if there is a love that exists beyond the measuring systems, universe, and the comprehension abilities we attains as humans, and this love is for me, and not just me, but everyone in the world;

then why would I want to reject it?

and if there are times when I make mistakes I constantly regret and people take note of it and make judgements of me, yet there remains a God who only wants what is best for me and will forgive me no matter what I do,

then why would I want to reject it?

I've stuck my hand in the cake far too many times; yet, God always kneels down to my level to make sure I know He still has mercy and grace waiting for me to embrace, hold and cling to forever.

Salvation and Pain Go Hand in Hand

 

Today was a great day.

And I can honestly say, today I cried tears of sadness and confusion; but it was still a great day.

Everyone has at least one question they will never be able to answer. Say that you can't stop thinking about that question. Say that your question has started eating at you, and that your question won't leave you alone until you're either sure of yourself or you're completely the opposite-- alot of times it's the latter, unfortunately.




So you pull into the school parking lot at around 7 and eat your special K with a Yogurtland spoon and pray. You keep having dreams about your question, your question persisting and pressuring you to find an answer. Ugh! It's almost seemingly choking you. So you pray to God, saying you want to find fulfillment and truth and satisfaction in Him alone; not in a question's answer. He gives you encuoragement and you even end up writing a poem about it.

Then he gives you various other blessings throughout the day, and you start to think to yourself, "Psh! Who needs the answer to that silly question anyway? Not this guy/girl!" And you drive home singing worship songs.



You still feel on top of the world. You take a good power nap with no dreams about the question at all, and then you go jogging with your adorable dog playing more worship songs. And, it's beautiful outside!

Then, comes night time. And suddenly, the question starts feeding at you again. At first it's not so bad, but then it gets worse. You see how much you think you need an answer, and it eventually takes a bite out of you. It hurts to not know what's going to happen. It hurts to hold on to the past.

So, you cry. You just want to let go and let God, so what is stopping you? Why won't the hurt and the fear and trembling go away?




Then, as your mother is hugging you, you see a quote that is taped on the front of your door. You supposedly taped it up yourself, but maybe it was God's doing instead.

It read:

". . .work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose."

And then your worry melted away. Funny, once you realized fear and doubt help you reach salvation (the definition of salvation, mind you, is: preservation or deliverence from harm, ruin, or loss) that's when it went away.


It's okay to fear, to question, to doubt, to wonder. That is how we accumulate and see God's grace. That quote on your door was God telling you you're not supposed to feel perfect inside. You are going to have to live life with dark feelings sometimes; but it will make you stronger, and if you don't let them get to you, it will bring you closer to Him.

And then you lived happily ever after. <> 

Fear of Quantity: Megalaphobia

Here's a weird riddle:

what is an element that society both adores and looks down upon? and this can honestly be said for all individuals.

Big things.

Someone might think a certain body size is too big, but they want the biggest screen tv...

Ugh, this book we have to read for school is too BIG, we don't want to read it. But we want a BIG amount of money..

This problem is way too BIG. But I do want a BIG amount of comfort, security, and acceptance.

I guess it only makes sense for humanity to want a big amount of the positive things in this life, and a small amount of the negative.

But what makes the most sense is how scared we are of the quantity.

We run away from the size of the negative, thinking that if we have a huge size of the positive; all of our problems will be solved.

Because, in all truth; big things scare us. You can ponder the obvious: dinosaurs, bullies, maybe getting lost in the ocean as a child.

And here is the blunt point of this blog post: God overcomes all sizes. All sizes of problems, attachments, materials, the world, the universe, this life. The biggest thing you could possibly imagine with the dimensions of your human mind, are just a speck of sand in God's hands.

New International Version (NIV)

³³ “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”~ John 16:33

Society may worship big, and society may burn and beat big; but no matter what we do, God has big plans for each big thing in our life.

Devocated.

If you've been to at least one small group at a church or religious facility, you've probably heard of the word "devotional".

The literal definition for the word "devotional" is "Of, relating to, expressive of, or used in devotion, especially of a religious nature."

In these church/small group settings, what they call devotionals is usually what helps people to study the Bible more-- it could even be thought of as a guidline. Worksheets might be handed out with a Bible verse or topic and questions to follow what the verse or topic really means, for example. There are also devotional books to help people understand the Bible (if you have to read a book to understand another book; you KNOW something must be important about BOTH of the books! :).

But never in my life until today have I realized that the word "devotion" is in the word "devotional".

I guess it just slips my mind when I'm in church, or in a small group setting. When I think "devotional", I go back to worksheets and books about THE Book. Never once did it occur to me that devotion is in devotional.

de·vo·tion

[ di vṓsh'n ]

1. committed love: deep love and commitment
2. dedication: great dedication and loyalty
3. enthusiasm: strong enthusiasm and admiration for somebody or something

Synonyms: attachment, love, fondness, affection, commitment, adoration

Reading this definition helps bolden what a devotional really is, or at least the purpose of devotionals. These authors of the thousands of different types of devotionals thrive (if they have the best of intentions) to help the reader become devoted to Christ Jesus.

When I think of devoted, I think of dedicated. But obviously, the word "dedicated" lacks something that "devotion" has. under the synonyms for devotion you will see love, affection, adoration. It is dedication with LOVE in it. Love alone IS devotion, and vice versa. You can be dedicated to finishing a homework assignment, but are you so in love with homework that you are DEVOTED to it?

I try to read my Bible each morning. Emphasis on try. I try to pray to God everyday. I try to be dedicated to these things as a Christ follower. But do I have the DEVOTION in my heart? Does my love for God motivate me to do more than just read and pray because I'm dedicated? You can easily read the Bible and whisper words to God, but I truly believe you will find yourself doing these things more and more repeatedly and enjoying these things in joy more and more repeatedly if you hold on to a devotion to God-- which soon becomes YOUR devotion to God--being dedicated to Him in love rather than just being dedicated to Him the way you cannot turn in a late homework assignment.

This might seem like I am trying to make a problem where there is none-- "devotion? Dedication? There isn't much of a difference..."-- but so much more joy, understanding, and nearness of Christ will be found once we all turn away from being dedicated to SUnday mornings, Wednesday nights, the youth rooms we recognize and feel comfortable in, and the stage we face as we worship and listen to sermons and turn to being devoted to Christ Jesus; and letting THAT be the reason why we are dedicated to the rest of those things. (I totally wasn't saying being dedicated to those things are wrong, but if we get caught up in those things and forget our love for God-- the reason we're dedicated to those things in the first place-- then honestly, what is the point of all of those things?)

And as I type these things, i am honestly not only typing this for whoever in the world reads this blog but hugely for myself as I struggle with this constantly.

May we always understand and remember why we worship, go to church, and use devotionals-- to be devoted in love and worship to our amazing Father.

 And may His perfect love for you and your love for Him be your motivation in your devtion.

"So like I said," said Mr. Linp as he opened his door, "don't let anyone in here. Off limits to everyone, no questions asked."

Sounds easy enough, I thought to myself. "Alright, sounds good. Thanks again for letting me use your classroom computer."

"Yeah, yeah," Mr. Linp trudged as he closed the door behind him.

And now I had the computer all to myself-- I could finally finish publishing the Future Poetics of Tomorrow Magazine. I had to get this thing done, if I wanted the student body to experience the true hope the teenage mind and emotion has after all! These poems were true declerations of students and how they felt, a call to other students that they are not alone in whatever they might be struggling with. And, they were pretty beautiful too.

Not much time left to use the computers, I thought to myself. 10 minutes on the clock.

And so I got to work. Moving, pasting, cropping, cutting. Oh, the life of an editor. It felt as artwork to me though, an art of arrangement on a page. The blank computer screen was a canvas for me to arrange other people's art on-- I was the artist of other people's art.

And the world had to know of the hope these student poets tasted.

And then, POUND, POUND, POUND.

My fingers shuddered as I jolted my typing to a stop.

"MR. LINP? ARE YOU THERE?"

I stood quiet. My mind registered the words as a cry of a helpless student, while my heart registered the words as a chant of a terrorizing burgurlar.

"MR. LINP... I NEED TO GET IN!"

Laughter, whispers. Knocking, more knocking.

"MR. LINP, LET ME IN!!!"

What was I supposed to do again? NOT let this loon in?

"I NEED TO DO A PROJECT!!"

Probably a project you should've finished weeks ago, I thought to myself.

"A PROJECT, MR. LINP! I NEED YOUR COMPUTERS!!"

'Off limits to everyone... no questions asked.' But now this kid was just scaring me.

KICK. He was now KICKING the door. And pounding. Pounding my heart, and my eardrums, much too harshly.

It went on for five minutes, and I couldn't concentrate. Why is this happening to me? I thought. I am trying to do good for the world, and this disctracting lunatic barges in. A little quiet would be nice to spread the hope!

I was getting pretty tempted to slip that door open. I tried rereading some of the poetry, but it couldn't defeat the loud echoes of "MR. LINP, COME ON, LET ME IN, ARE YOU SERIOUS!?!"
I couldn't tell him to stop, or else he'd know I was in here and he'd use that to his advantage. I couldn't leave, because I obviously had to finish this magazine. My physical words could not make him go away.

But my mental ones could.

Be gone! Resist, resist, don't give in. Go AWAY. Be GONE.

I screamed to him in my mind.

And suddenly, silence. The only yelling going on was my mind yelling at him to go away.

He huffed and puffed, and kicked the door one last time, with only the sound of heavy feet on concrete growing quieter and quieter.

Five minutes later, as I typed the last poetry title on the Table of Contents, Mr. Linp walked in.

"So, were people trying to get in?" he questioned.

"Yep."

"And you didn't give in?"

I was proud to say, "No."

He smiled as he walked over to me. "Good," he commented, "and your magazine is going to do wonders for the student body, by the way."

_______________________________________________________________________

James 4:7 "Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you."

"Sometimes I just wish we could say all the things that are easy to hear
Ignore the injustice we see and explain every unanswered prayer
But I'd rather speak honestly and wear a tattered heart on my sleeve
'Cause in the middle of my broken dreams, redemption is here

And I'm still a dreamer, a believer
Oh, I've lost my faith in so many things, but I still believe in You
'Cause You are the answer, the redeemer
Oh, I've given up on too many things, but I'm not giving up on You
'Cause You can make anything new"
~~The Reedeemer by Sanctus Real


Next Door Neighbors by Chrissy Zschomler
Are you a part of my life
to paste smiles on my face,
and I a part of yours
to show you what is true grace?

You've seen my heart on my sleeve,
as I have seen yours.
But will the year end this way,
just chatting in front of these doors?

We talk about what is behind them,
but never dare to see.
You kept behind yours,
and the same went for me.

But I want you to taste
the love that I've found
and I want you to see
and feel and hear the sound

of the only way to hope,
the only way to grace,
oh you of much potential;
resembling the smile of Earth's face.

I creak open the door
and let you see a bit
but that doesn't seem to interest you,
it just doesn't seem to do it.

I ask what is behind yours,
about the place the you live
and it makes me feel more confident
in the door the only God did give.

I want to invite you to this world
of love, hope, and forever
I just can't seem to cross the threshold
of "Do it now or do it never."

As the last days approach us,
and the sun quickly sets
I know if I don't show you
I'll live life full of regrets.

I can't just shove it in your face,
and tell you that you're wrong
for that will keep you away,
that will just make you headstrong.

Oh come and see what love has for you,
the one and only way;
the hope and joy that will last you
for the rest of your life's days.

Lord, if it's my destiny to plant the seed
that inside him should evolve
I pray that You would give me the words
to help him come to resolve

That You are the only way and life
the only truth that ever matters
without You, what is this life
but a trillion sin- drenched shatters?

You know something must hurt alot when you can't push yourself to write about it.

The Fire in His Eyes.

She turned away from the stove for maybe 2 minutes; and in those same 2 minutes oxygen, fuel, and enough energy had eaten her pot alive and escaped to the countertop. She turned 40 seconds after those two minutes; and the fire had trickled to the floor.

 She felt powerless. She felt weak. The fumes from the smoke were starting to get to her head too. She tried grabbing water from the sink, but the fire ran much too close for her to access water without attaining at least a 2nd degree burn.

She pounced back, and in her crazy chaotic train of thoughts speeding at too many miles per minute; one thought stood clear, "If only my tears could take out the fire. But just like the rest of me, they're too weak.."

She surrendered. She was home alone, and could not do it alone.

She knocked the phone off it's hook (it was right next to the sink, which at this rate was seeming as if it circulated fire instead of tap water;) and luckily caught in her hand. She dialed the three numbers and pressed the phose closely to her ear as if it were the one thing she had left. She embraced that phone; her one last shot at hope. The smoke began to choke her lungs harder and harder.

It was if the smoke wrapped around her only chance of life; like a rope wrapped around a person's neck to be hung. She trembled as she choked out to the police, "My house...fire...stove lit up..."

She started feeling a little too woozy, and she sat on the ground. Everything was starting to fade around her-- probably because of the mixture of smoke and panic rising in her system. She had always been sensitive to certain fumes, and now she regretted it more than ever. And she wasn't exactly the best under the pressure of these kinds of situations either.

And that's when her eyes finally blacked out. Her train of chaotic thoughts and panic, were now at peace. But this peace would only cause her to trip into even more danger.

The fire ate away at the tiles, one by one, and slowly began to dance around her feet. she remained blacked out, laying against the cabinets facing the stove, as the fire approached her quickly. Her nerves finally approached her body again, and she woke up. She smelled, felt, and even tasted the fire dashing in her direction.

But she could not get up. It was like a bad dream where you cannot control any part of your body with your mind. It all just kind of...happens. And the heat began to burn her, even though the fire hadn't touched her yet.

And then, if for a split second, the flame had nibbled an inch of her body. She had too much panic to recognize which part.

And suddenly, she was swooped into a ball and lifted off the floor. She felt like she was flying. And off she went, out of the kitchen and out of the door. Her mind began to piece back together as she was layed down on the gurney and pushed into the ambulance truck; with the mysterious force that picked her up following her into the truck. She started to lose all nerves again, but one must of stayed put.

With that nerve, she felt a strong connection to the Force that lifted her. She slowly looked around the truck and found the force. He was covered in yellow, with a red something-or-other on His head (she couldn't tell apart anything at this moment,) to match the red lines spread across the face. The were a much deeper and textured red, and they looked like they were crying as little drops of red trickled down from the lines spread like a torn spider's web across his face. she felt a connection stronger than anything with Him; like He was the only thing she knew was real right now.

she had to say something, anything; to Him. or at motion or show Him some form of connection. she tried to speak, but voice cracked at first; but then she regained confidence in her vocal chords.

"You saved me."

 He looked up from the machine she was plugged into, and smiled. His smile framed the part of her heart she thought had burned away in the fire; a part that she'd never let herself forgive for making that stupid mistake of turning away from the stove. But His smile reminded her, it was still there; this part beating now more than ever.

"Are you okay?" she struggled to ask him. as she started to come back into a somewhat stable sense of mind, she at least could figure out the red lines across his face were not a good sign.

"Yes. and you?" He asked.

"I could be better," she said, and she chuckled. She was surprised she was acting this light-heartedly, especially after realizing she had burned her home down. It must have been the connection with the man again.

"You will be perfectly flawless soon," he nodded at her, checkered face of deep red and all.

 She couldn't understand what He meant by this. All of the sudden; she felt so compelled to talk to this Man; she started blurting out questions that she hadn't even given a second to think about ahead of time.

"Are you really okay? How did you survive the burns?" she asked, recollecting the images. "You rolled into that fire, in my kitchen."

"It was painful, yes," He told her. "But it was worth it."

"Worth it? You have burns and scars, how could that have been worth it?"

He smiled that overwhelming smile again. "I like your questioning. You know, questioning is a sign that deep down underneath, it means you really care."

What does He mean I care? she wondered.

"It is worth it getting any scars saving anyone," He told her. "That's why I was sent here. To save you. It's my joy to do so." She still could not fathom it.

"You find joy, in burning for me; in saving me. In taking my pain away, from the mistake I made from turning away from the stove. I made the mistake, yet; you had to pay the price."

"It's my job," He told her. "I don't always understand why I'm sent where I'm sent, why I must go through the pain I must go through." He started gritting His teeth; she could tell the pain was getting to Him, yet he still keep the sturdy joy and sparkle within His eyes. "I question the chief sometimes, why He sends me to certain places. I don't always know why He forsakes me in this way, by sending me to the most painful fires to fight possible. But, it is my job; and I will do it with everything I can.

"And to see the look on the person's face in the end; that sparkle of relief, surrender, and healing in their eyes--" He looked deep into her eyes.  "--I realize, it is all worth it. To save everyone, to save You."

He grabbed her hand with His scarred hands. She thought for a second she even felt a bare bone in His finger; and couldn't help but shed a few tears. Tears of relief, surrender... and healing.

He had taken the mistake she made, paid the price for her mistake, and asked for nothing in return.

She did not know what else she would do with the rest of her life except to live like this Man.

I wonder why they make rearview mirrors so small; but the windshield so big?

The cliff over the sand that touched the water was high. One slip and you could fall to your doom in the rocks supporting the cliff, or if you prefer; the sand could swallow your comfort and throw bruises and broken bones your way as well.

She kept her focus on the rocks underneath her ungripping sandles. John had asked her if she had good shoes to move around in, and she replied she did everything in her sandles anyway so it didn't really matter; it was Southern California, after all.

But as they climbed over the fence to get on the cliff, the cliff that actually was cautioned with a sign to "not enter or be elligible for fines up to $3,000 or be put under house arrest", she decided it was worth the risk of shoes and jailtime because gosh the view was beautiful.

But she noticed something strange as she climbed onto the cliff.

After throwing a couple rocks into the sand, she jokingly proclaimed to her friends, "I am throwing my worries off the cliff!!" and she'd toss a rock into the abyss of sand. She was half-kidding.

The other half of her, though; really was trying to toss her worries to get lost and forgotten in either the sand abyss or the eternal ocean.

But as she threw these rocks, her eyes would follow them; and even as they landed in the abyss she could still see the exact rock she threw. She might've let go of the rock with her hand; but she did not let go with her eyes.

She started to walk away from her friends to a more spacious part of the cliff. She looked down, only to find more stones and pebbles surrounding her feet. She kicked some off, but only found that so many rocks were still there.

Even at this height, you only look at the ground to focus on the rocks surrounding you.

She continued to stare at the rocks.

You can see the beauty of the ocean so clearly and so beautifully from here-- yet, you still look down and at the rocks that trail your feet?

She began to peer her head up to the ocean, how it glimmered and sparkled under the afternoon sun. It was pretty beautiful....breathtaking would be more appropriate.

You look at the rocks and the ground not just because you naturally desire to focus on your worries; but you are afraid you will fall off the cliff. You're afraid you will lose balance.

She kept studying the greenish blue sparkling sea.

Don't you know that if you keep your mind on righteous things of above; and if you trust in Me, you will never have anything to worry about? Look up, to My righteousness; to my beautiful sea that greets the sky--and that greets you with love and hope-- rather than down at the ground, that only show you the sin you've trailed in for so long and the worries you kick around but never seem to leave your sight.

The sky was a particular beautiful crisp blue today, as well.

The rocks and ground do not show the potential you have. They don't show you where you are. You can only see what wonderful things I have planned for you if you keep your mind on what's ahead and what's above.

She nodded her head toward the direction of the sea, and the sky; and walked back to her friends on the bordering cliffs.

We are all...Stale Bread.

I write with a small musing in mind today:

Grab a piece of a week old loaf of bread. Now try to tear it in half. It's hard to just rip off a small piece, right? It seems very
strong,

But sadly; it is only that way because it has become stale over time. It's become rotten and has lost it's freshness you smelt and tasted on Your tongue when you took your first bite.

And boy can we relate to that bread. We're so fresh and innocent, but then after we let these poisonous things from the surrounding aiir and bacteria come in and harden; our freshness of our innocent states of mind burn over and harden into a painful shell of bitter
beginnings (quite distateful, just like the stale bread, if I do say so myself.)

And eveyday it shows in your peers, and even yourself; the older and older you get. No, not everyone becomes "stale bread"; some people gain intelligence and experience without also gaining a corrupt mind (this post is dedicated to those of you who are this way; we applaud you.) but in about 20 seconds of watching any tv show for ages 6 and older or exchanging a Few conversations
at a public school (you could even try elementary) and you will see a consistency of stale bread characteristics.

Stale breads are the people who seem so high and mighty and strong; but are actually corrupt and broken and again "distasteful" on the inside. And I honestly thing everyone becomes a stale bread in their life-- becausewhat makes us stale bread is sin; which everyone has.

Which i guess is why Jesus came to die for us-- so we could be eternally fresh within His freshness of love and innocence. He is the bread of life; afterall.

I am a stale peice of bread; but I am made fresh and new by Jesus' love and innocence He gives to me again. And to you as well.

Happy Easter weekend; and next time Your eating bread.. Say a little prayer :)

ch-ch-ch-changes! turn to face the strange ch-ch-change-uh-es!

notice anything different? :)

the blog name changed, and so did the description. (of course, i love both the old title and description... "a rose by any other name" and "life is a short, fevered rehearsal for a concert which we cannot stay to give.")

but i felt like change. i have absolutley no reason for the change. nothing monumental happened in my life. i just thought it'd be cool.

i often go through bouts where i want to cut my hair. my dad always tells me it means something in my emotional relm is changing. that could be it.. or i could be just wanting to cut my hair. (which is still up for debate.)

i must admit, there was a slight emotional change. i have been going through spiritual realizations lately and it has been great.

the title comes from Matthew 6:25-34, and it goes something like this --

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?[g] 28 And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

34 “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

i guess i was just hoping that this blog could be a reminder to not worry. and then within that comes the blog description (2 Corinthians 3:3) which i think is beautifully worded by Paul to just illustrate how much our lives are really supposed to be for Christ and how personal his love is for us and how He wants us to share that love with others. so personal... He wrote us with His own hand, we are His own letters.

this blog is and always will be for everyone, and i hope those descriptions show how God's love is just the same.

shrinking value in....

ipod is on shuffle. i look out the window as the current song comes to a close, then back to my songs. there are so many songs on there that i don't even care about anymore, a sad but true statement. i tap the fast-forward button 50 taps per minute. below my fast- forward, rewind, and play button it displays how many songs i have in total on my ipod: 1,115. one thousand, one hundred fifteen.

i can't help but think to myself how funny i was growing up with my old ipod nano, i had a secret pleasure in knowing i finally had more songs on my ipod than my older sister did on hers when i hit five hundred something songs; and the same when i saw that my cool college friend i'd secretly really looked up to (well, i guess it wasn't really a secret) only had three hundred something songs on hers.

i thought five-hundred was alot... now it's almost only half of what i have on my ipod.

as much as i hate wasting time doing it, i do it anyway: scrolling the facebook news feed, seeing what is the newest most interesting thing happening in the bubble of my friends. oh look! someone is engaged... oh wow, ninety something people liked it. someone got accepted to that big fancy college!! bam-- 119 likes. as a younger facebook user i thought i was popular when eleven or twelve people liked my status that was a song lyric...

and same with friend numbers on facebook too. i look at a five hundred friend count by sophomore year and think "wow, that's alot!" and then turn to one of my freshman friends who has over one thousand friends.

the older i get, the smaller bigger things get. isn't that a compelling but exactly true concept? bigger things get smaller, numbers that were once so big shrink into miniscules compared with the number they are right NOW in the moment.

age. you thought being 10 was a big deal when you were 10 (and when you were nine.) i thought my older sister turning 18 was crazy. then, she turned 19. 19 years of full life. and that's nothing compared to other ages in this world obviously.

trends. the song "friday" by rebecca black certainly had alot of views on youtube, but then she evolved into a national icon because of how popular the song became. yout thought 250 hits were pretty good? try a bajillion (meaning i don't know the exact number of hits she had but i do know they were a TON.)

nature. you thought the thought the building was really big growing up? try mount everest. (sorry for jumping so far ahead.)

and..God. you thought the universe was big? you thought the number of stars you counted on that trip to the mountains was plentiful? you thought how the sky never stops wherever you go was a trip? you thought the idea of the sun's actual size hurt your brain alittle bit? don't even try to imagine the size of God, because it honestly is not something to be measured with human metrics or numbers.

stay in awe of things that are "big" to you while you can. because numbers change, big things shrink; or maybe it is just you growing with the numbers. or, the numbers are growing with you (and the rest of society).

is this positive? or negative? that is a whole different story obivously-- do you see the glass half empty or half full?

that is, if you can still see the glass... or has that shrunk to you too?

We live in a bubble.

You might think I say that because we live in the suburbs, and we are supposedly closed off from the real world.

This might be true in some cases, but let's dive deeper into that.

Ok, we live in a bubble within our clicks of friends we hang out with.

That may be true to. But try again.

Bubble of population. Bubble of neighbors. What's the next layer of Bubble?

The bubble of ourselves.

We live in our own bubbles. Admit it. If facebook isn't doing enough by
forcing us to be obssesed with ourselves, it's within our constant indulgence in complaining about all the problems of life-- too much homework or not getting to go to the movie or breaking a nail.
I can't say we're all guilty of this. I know there are souls out there who's bubble layers are very thin and they pop it often to help And care for others. But I write this blog post because I live in a bubble often. A bubble where sometimed thr things that only matter are what effect ME.

Outside of our bubbles are other bubbles- individual bubbles with other individual people inside them, too. But the oxygen is replaced by sadness in some of their bubbles. It begins to suffocate them and they can't take the pain.

That's why we need to pop our bubbles. To not only save ourselves a life of selfishness and greed but to help, encourage and LOVE others who are in need. Which, just fyi, is everyone on this planet.

We got alot of work to do then, don't we?

Spreading love is worth it. Being love can be simple. Once you show people that simplicity, they might want to live in love too (and not in a stuffy bubble).

Sadness is real, depression is real, everyone needs love; and it's everyone's job to give and have that love. And to encourage in everything you do.

Pop the bubble.

Twloha.com

You Got Mail

Dear You,

I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes or cleans so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
Yes,I am the vine; you are the branches--MY branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. At all. If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.
As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Oh yes, I have loved you more than you will ever know. Now, remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love.I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.
My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. This is my command: Love each other.
If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you. Remember what I told you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. If they obeyed my teaching, they will obey yours also. They will treat you this way because of my name, for they do not know the one who sent me. If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not be guilty of sin; but now they have no excuse for their sin. Whoever hates me hates my Father as well. If I had not done among them the works no one else did, they would not be guilty of sin. As it is, they have seen, and yet they have hated both me and my Father. But this is to fulfill what is written in their Law: ‘They hated me without reason.’
When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father—the Spirit of truth who goes out from the Father—he will testify about me. And you also must testify, for you have been with me from the beginning.
And you always shall be; if you remain in me.
With Love,
Jesus

You are... An idea. I mean, you're real; but to me you're an idea. A fantasy. A thought of the future.
Yes, You've inspired other thoughts. Thoughts of smiles, music... Remembering feelings I've forgotten over time.
Thoughts of age difference,which could also be called age seperation. Thoughts of the thoughts you might not ever think About me, or over the thought of thinking ANY thought about me. Thoughts of you're-too-cool-for-me, thoughts of our mAybe three or four words we've shared. In a span of knowIng eachother for six months. Not that long, not thAt many words. I guess that makes sense.

Then there's that other idea... And then comes age seperation Again, but not as dramatic this time. The idea of the ocean eyes, the laughter, the kindness, the joking, the dreams of your future, the interests. The dream of us talking again.

Then there's the final idea. The idea that these people are not ideas. The idea that His will will be done in time and the previous people me mentioned might not have one second of time to do with His will. Or one of them might even be THE will. Or they were put in my life to show me a glimpse of an idea of what Your will is. Or not.

But the idea, or reality rather; that HE is alive and everywhere is the greatest reality of all.

Just go with the flow and see where He takes you. We're messages in bottles floating in the Ocean. Who will throw us back in the water and who then will keep us? Is God the wind and thr Holy Spirit the ocean?

i miss





you