Hurt Brings Healing

Heartaches must be endured alone. No friend will ever be so close that she can feel the beat of your heart when it falters. Tears must be cried in solitude. True emotions can only be felt when there is no one around to see them. It is only in the privacy of loneliness that clarity of feeling can be known. When accompanied by another, regardless of how caring the other may be, it can never be ascertained whether the emotion is in its purest form. However, when one is bared to oneself and Eternal God, the depth and breadth of life and love, hurt and heartache can be measured. It is in that moment of nakedness that the soul can cry, and the heart can bleed drops of pure love and pain.

In his moments on the cross, Jesus experienced an alienation and a loneliness that cannot be fathomed. It was in that time that the depth of His love for us poured from his body, and it is by the wounds he suffered in solitude that we are healed. Whatever paltry hurts we must experience, in our own times of sorrow, cannot be legitimately compared to the weight He carried, however they can bring us a heartbeat closer to a Love that heals in a way that is utterly inexplicable.

It is in those truly “alone” times that I call to mind the picture my daddy drew for me of our heavenly Father. Daddy talks about when Jesus called God “Abba”—translated, that most closely resembles “daddy” or “papa.” My earthly father drew the picture in my mind that comforts me in my deepest pain and sorrow when he spoke of crawling up in God’s lap as I used to crawl up into his lap when I was sad or hurt. In the alone times, it is readily apparent that my “Abba” God is sitting there, patiently awaiting my hasty retreat to the haven of His arms. When I cry into God’s shirtfront, He just puts his arms gently around me and wipes away my tears with his nail-scarred hand, and a moment passes between my heart and His wherein I understand, briefly, for a hanging breath in time, the phrase, “but for the joy set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame…”

Though one may touch the heart of God in any circumstance, I find the moments when I’m bleeding from the soul to be the most tender, because it is in those times that I meet the Healer, the Comforter, and His gentle touch is the means by which grace is delivered. I am alone. I am hopelessly lonely, and broken and bleeding, but it is in my hurt that I find the heart of God pouring a fresh breath of life into my soul and replenishing my strength, when I have not enough to continue. Heartaches must be endured alone to understand and accept the gift of grace.

I'm annoyed

To those of you whose input here has been positive and enjoyable, I apologize. I will miss your thoughtful contributions. I have disabled the comments on my blog, because instead of being able to enjoy the input of my friends, I was given the dubious honor of playing policeman to other people's idiocy.

I find it annoying that some people think it's appropriate to hide behind the relative anonymity of the internet in order to make nasty comments about people. If you have something to say, then say it, openly. Don't be a jerk. (For those who are blissfully unaware of the circumstances, there is a blogger who is EGGing me on by posting lies about me in the comments section of my blog, and I have no patience for that kind of nonsense.)

DON'T EVER accuse me of anything illegal or immoral on MY blog. Period. DON'T tell me that I cannot be successful. DON'T come into MY world to pedal your poison. I will not have it.

Go be a jerk on your own blog.

I make it a matter of personal policy to make any contribution a positive one, and I will not allow anyone to lie about or be a jerk to me on my blog. There's plenty of room for being obnoxious elsewhere. I will not tolerate it, here.

My Secret

I have a secret.
Don’t tell anyone.
An angel walks among us.
She doesn’t know she’s an angel, though.
I know.

She thinks she’s just a woman, just a mom, just a friend.
She’s not. She’s so much more.
You see, moms are there when you need them.
Friends offer care and concern.
She offers her heart and soul.

She drives for hours, just to be nearby.
She loses herself in providing love and tenderness, a listening ear.
She loves unconditionally—not just sometimes, but always.
She gives herself to people who never cared, never expecting anything but honesty in return.

Her disappointment would be the worst form of punishment, because she deserves so much.
But she is never disappointed.
Even when you fail her, she continues to love and give.
She never sees the failure.
She never sees the mis-step or the broken promise.
All she sees is the face of someone she loves.

An angel walks among us.
She is my mother.

Disclaimer

I intensely dislike free-form poetry. I'm of the belief that poetry should have a meter, and that it should rhyme. Unfortunately, the words don't always come the way you'd like for them to come, and with what you're left is something in-between poetry and prose. For the above, I apologize.

Shameless Rip-Off From Brownie Points

Your Vocabulary Score: A+

Congratulations on your multifarious vocabulary! You must be quite an erudite person.

How's Your Vocabulary?

Giant Headaches and Tiny Victories

Decorating for Christmas is a fun way to begin the holiday season. In our family, we have a tradition of decorating for Christmas on the day after Thanksgiving. All the decorations come down the day after Christmas. Well, I live far away from my family, and I was going to be at my parents' home over Thanksgiving, so I decorated my apartment for Christmas on the Saturday before Thanksgiving. I like to put lights on my balcony railing, so I got out my lovely icicle strand and hung it carefully. When I was done, I plugged it in and it lit up beautifully... except for one section of it.

Christmas light strands, these days, are made so that if a bulb burns out, only one section will not continue to light. This is good, in that it keeps you from having to check the entire strand for one little broken filament. I found the offending bulb. (And I'm very thankful that, while my eyesight is imperfect, I have wonderful near-vision. If I was at all far-sighted, I'd have been pooched! Those filaments are nigh-unto invisible!)

I thought to myself, "I believe I have more small bulbs in with the rest of my Christmas stuff," and I was correct. I retrieved the bulb, and put it into the slot where the broken one had been. It didn't fit. I pushed harder. It still wouldn't fit. I twisted, and almost broke the bulb. It wouldn't go in the little blinking blanking hole. So, I took the replacement bulb and held it up to the broken bulb. What I found is what you can see in the picture above. There is more than one miniature lightbulb base. (Presumably so you can't replace the bulbs, which causes you to, instead, replace the entire strand. Actually, not a bad marketing strategy, but a bugger for the consumer.)

Well, being of the lineage that I tout, I did the difficult thing to do. I whipped out my pocket knife and started carving away at the little plastic base. (The green bulb is the replacement bulb, so I needed to whittle down the base until the grooves matched the white one.) As I learned while growing up, the only way to tackle a task such as this is to make sure that your mouth is running at approximately the same speed as your tool of choice (particularly if the tool is ill-suited for the job you've given it), and your mouth should be muttering tiny little curses (not foul-language, just actual curses) against the communist nazi who came up with the stupid idea which foiled your plans, your day, and ultimately your entire life. :D That bulb never had a chance.

I won. I put the freshly-carved lightbulb into the strand, and -- PRESTO!-- the previously-dead section came to life! VICTORY against a lightbulb! Thank God for opposable thumbs and rapidly-moving intellect. :D

Now all I have to do is carve another bulb for the next section of the strand which decided to die recently... Sigh.

Much Love.
L~

Color and Me

Interesting... Take a quiz, and see how close it is to correct. I like this one.

This is me, apparently. Fairly accurate...

You are a person who approaches their finances aggressively and with purpose. You make sure you have covered every angle by consulting the best professionals, then move in for the attack.

Preferring a more casual appearance, you are more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt than in a suit. You don't like over dressing for any occasion, although you never look scruffy.

You are aggressive in business, but tend to take the backseat when it comes to your personal life. You are more comfortable talking about work than relationships.

You are a very practical person. It's more important to you that the things you own are useful, rather than nice to look at.

A good listener. You are comfortable allowing others to take the spotlight and share their adventures. You are protective about your friendship and ensure the best for your friends.

You are a no-nonsense, practical person. You make sure that you are there when your friends need you, and like to solve their problems for them.