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.