journal scribbles

She would like to let your goodness penetrate her and let your holy love relax her and let your voice silence her and let your plans bless her. But she gets distracted so easily and then she feels confused again.

Would you please break through her confusion and her shame and her need for you. Would you go looking for the little girl that should be dancing in the field but for whatever reason has found her self next to the wall that seems to have a terrible shadow… although the shadow proves the sunshine. There is sunshine in the field.

THIS. is wonderful.

::A Parable of Prayer::

"A Father and His Son, traveling together in a wagon,

came to the edge of a forest.

Some bushes, thick with berries caught the child's eye.

"Father," he asked, "may we stop a while so that I can pick some berries?"

The Father was anxious to complete His journey,

but He did not have the heart to refuse the boy's request.

The wagon was called to a halt,

and the son alighted to pick the berries.

After a while,

the Father wanted to continue on His way.

But His son had become so engrossed

in berry-picking that he could not bring himself to leave the forest.

"Son!" cried the father, "we cannot stay here all day!

We must continue our journey!"

Even the Father's pleas were not enough to lure the boy away.

What could the Father do?

Surely He loved his son no less for acting childishly.

He would not think of leaving him behind--

but he really did have to get going on his journey.

Finally He called out:

"You may pick your berries for a while longer, but be sure you are still able

to find me, for I shall start moving slowly along the road,

As you work, call out "Father! Father!"

every few minutes, and I shall answer you.

As long as you can hear my voice, know that I am still nearby.

But as soon as you can no longer hear my answer, know that you are lost

and run with all your strength to find me!"

"The more I think it over,

the more I feel that there

is nothing more truly artistic

than to love people"

-Vincent Van Gogh

lyingflying birds

where is the Strong Man?

this. will be clear in time.

cinco

Today sorta snuck up on me. Not the day. But the date. Before lunch I kept writing the wrong date on invoices and packing slips. October 4th. And then I was back in the office with a full tummy and I sat there staring at my messy boyish writing

'October 5th'.

And my heart sorta hurt and felt glad at the same moment. And of course my eyes filled with tears. And I recalled the moments that took place 5 years ago. And I sent out txt messages and updated facebook and people responded in ways that they should... but every year I am reminded that 'today' is much bigger than anyone will ever realize. it's much greater than i realize.

5 years ago today i was ran over by a car.

Thats so very easy to say and never that easy to deal with. but regardless today is a very good day.

Sometimes when people share of the day they accepted Jesus into their heart i think of this day.

I knew my Abba long before this accident. At this time He was my Lord and over time He would become my healer. Over time He would become my strength.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

"But He said to me,

'My grace is sufficient

for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.'

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that

Christ's power may rest on me.

That is why for Christ's sake I delight in weaknesses,in insults,

in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.

For when I am weak,

then I am strong"

i had a dream last night of that little one. i was back in uganda and he was much bigger while still being very small. i held him and let him suck on the tip of my finger, he made the face of an old man who had yet to receive their dinner. irritated & confused. i couldn't blame him-- he entered this world long before he was every expected and his "source" of life was quickly gone. he was brought in by a saint and brought to me by a southern bell. i always thought i was brought to him.

today makes me think of him. Los Angeles is all to similar to kampala-- less crowded and a completely different ethnicity but still the same. still musky and dirty with the same smells and a similar passion. i've lived here all my life and i've always been confused while driving through this place, but once you've been lost in kampala on a boda LA is all the more beautiful. not because it's better but because they are the same.

there were days when we were riding through the streets and feeling a beauty unlike any other. it was peaceful and fast and i found myself breathing in the ride. but my heart was set on 3:00-- i wanted to be there when his eyes opened (even if he couldn't see me) and as I held his tiny body i would whisper

"You're stronger than we know, and weaker than we realize"

and as people would walk by & acknowledge the state of delight i was in i would whisper to them

"He is the greatest thing"

and today, i'm missing him

"i'll wear my pearls."

mmmmmmh.

enjoy.

these marvelous things.

thanks for stopping by.