“You never realize how much you like someone until you watch them like someone else.” — Unknown
Long since are the days when I was last in line to pick an instrument in the school band, or the last one to be picked as a square-dancing partner, or, to be excluded from a specific circle of friends. Now that I’m an adult and all grown-up, I assumed I’d never experience feelings of rejection again. That only happens when you’re a kid, right? Wrong.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5:4
The brisk puffs of air carrying the aroma of nearby Gardenias drifted through the screen of my back porch, caressing my face. I watched the leaves on the trees lining my back deck gently flutter in the soft breeze as I slowly rocked, alone with sad thoughts. I was mourning the death of my sweet aunt who recently lost her difficult battle with Lou Gehrig’s disease.
Whoever claimed, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”–lied.
Nearly 20 years after the incident, the memory of the wound still exists. It’s one thing to be on the receiving end of a “zinger” from someone you don’t know, or when there’s no malicious intent. It’s quite another issue to bear the brunt of a comment from someone familiar to you. One who knows your insecurities and uses them for intended harm. Have you been there?
Do you have any idea how much God loves you? Do you? I mean, really? If truth be known, I bet we don’t always think about this too much. Sure, we know God sacrificed His own son to show us the depth of His love, however, the sheer magnitude of this love sometimes escapes us. For me, at least, it’s just plain difficult to imagine a love that powerful.
“When they call to me, I will answer them; when they are in trouble, I will be with them.” Psalm 91:15a
The sun streamed in through the window casting a checker board of morning light onto the walnut blonde floor, like a flamboyant guest without an invitation. My fingers tapped incessantly as my arms lay at both sides of my hospital gown on the bed. Thoughts flew wildly around my head, like a trapped parakeet in a closed room.
Verb: Walk (wok). . . To move at a regular pace by lifting and setting down each foot in turn, never having both feet off the ground at once. It’s what we teach our young children . . . just put one foot in front of the other.
Sounds simple, yet, like a toddler first learning to walk, sometimes those “steps” are met with uncertainty, causing us to falter, or perhaps fall. Take hiking, for instance. You never know what lies ahead, or how the terrain of your path may change . . . however, in order to reach your destination, you still have to put one foot in front of the other.