You stop me in the hallway
And you say that I did well.
Your hand placed on my shoulder -
Plastic smile, empty shell.
But I know that you secretly
See me as competition.
These lifeless words and gestures
Rankle under raw ambition.
I’m sick and tired of all these lies,
I’d rather truth than crooning sighs.
Tell me what you truly feel.
Break the cycle, take the wheel.
You fuss and fawn as I walk by.
You shower me with praises.
Lauding me as someone great
In such detailed phrases.
But save your breath for later
When you talk behind my back;
I know you hate me in and out
For something that I lack.
I’m sick and tired of all these lies.
I’d rather truth than crooning sighs.
Tell me what you truly feel.
Break the cycle, take the wheel.
I don’t want your petty smiles
I’m not one to be beguiled.
We’ll get more done if we’re real.
Break the cycle, take the wheel.
11.20.2009
Ramblings #1
The funny thing is to look back on all the notes I have recently posted and find that many of them are about the un-mentionable word: a boy. Okay, that was two words, but you get the gist.
I am just going to expound on this for now. I am not going to talk about how to get over it, or anything sensible. For now, let us indulge in exploring my emotions. I have been afraid to write about it for some time. I have been afraid to talk to others about it as well, because I know that love in its true form is something that comes later for me, and to dwell on it is to simply relish in being impatient. But I think it is time that I sat myself down and went through this myriad of a hullabaloo in my mind.
And so it begins...
I guess that like any shallow person, I began thinking about you because of your physical looks. I found your aura of mysteriousness captivating. I did not find you “cute” until time progressed; no, the fact that I could not read you like a book was what hooked me first. I like to watch people, because most of them are too busy making a spectacle of themselves to notice any observing eyes outside of the ones with stars in them. [I am more than guilty of making myself look like an idiot, do not get me wrong.]
Anyways, I thought you were interesting, and that is what pulled me in. Then your love and obvious talents for mutual interests changed my feelings from curiosity to a sort of respect.
I guess it all spiraled from there. Despite prolonged study, I still do not understand much of you at all. Some things you do have me shaking my head; some make me smile; some cause disappointment--but the final product leaves me bewildered, keeping me hungry to search for anything that will complete the scattered puzzle pieces I have formed about you. Maybe someday, the puzzle will fit together and it will form a complete picture of you. Maybe. Maybe not.
I wrote down a list of all the things I looked for in a husband, and tried to match them with qualities you had. I am not even sure if you have the most important quality I seek. Yet I just keep hoping that God will change you.
So for the time being, I am trying desperately to forget yet remember you. I dislike thinking about you because it uses up so much of my time and emotions. And yet I find it a thrill to wonder if things may ever be.
I remember jokes you cracked, and they still make me smile. A certain song plays and I automatically think of you. I wonder what you would say when I do certain things, never remembering that I hardly know your true essence.
And the thing that really gets me is that ugly green-faced thing called jealousy. It rears its head at the most inopportune times, getting me all wired up over any silly thing or person I view as competition. And what right do I have to get jealous anyways? That is what really annoys me—this viewing of you as mine simply because I, well, okay, simply because I LIKE you. Is that better? I LIKE you.
Me. Liking you. Me, the girl who makes it her business to keep guys out of her own. Me, the whacko person who just, well... ARGH! It is not something I am proud of, the fact that I cannot get you out of my mind. I am supposed to pride myself on staying focused and sensible, although I have no idea where those assumptions sprouted from. But I cannot, because there is this face of an angel that pushes out all common sense and has me envisioning wedding invitations. [Granted, the wedding invitations part may be an exaggeration by a short step.] It is frustrating that I cannot be what I want to be because of you. Not like it is your fault. I am quite sure you never DID anything to lead me on.
Love may make you blind, but puppy love makes you an idiot.
I am an idiot.
When am I going to realize things are not going to work out, and that neither you nor I am ready to even think about marriage. Oh, did I mention that I am not into relationships that do not last forever? You probably know, so why am I explaining? Anyways, when I like someone, it is not chasing after a fling. I am ridiculously serious.
Where am I going with this? Oh yeah, how I feel right now.
And I am pretty sure you have completely forgotten my existence, or are pretty close to it. Or perhaps you think I am weird, which I would not completely put past you, nor do I blame you, because from what I know of you, you would not go for someone like me. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I feel like your heart is tucked away in some safe in London, guarded by ten-foot brick walls. You are impenetrable. The fact that it is the reason I was drawn to you in the first place does not change the knowing that we are such different, different people.
One side of my mouth quirked up right now. Not sure why I am amused by this post.
I am just going to expound on this for now. I am not going to talk about how to get over it, or anything sensible. For now, let us indulge in exploring my emotions. I have been afraid to write about it for some time. I have been afraid to talk to others about it as well, because I know that love in its true form is something that comes later for me, and to dwell on it is to simply relish in being impatient. But I think it is time that I sat myself down and went through this myriad of a hullabaloo in my mind.
And so it begins...
I guess that like any shallow person, I began thinking about you because of your physical looks. I found your aura of mysteriousness captivating. I did not find you “cute” until time progressed; no, the fact that I could not read you like a book was what hooked me first. I like to watch people, because most of them are too busy making a spectacle of themselves to notice any observing eyes outside of the ones with stars in them. [I am more than guilty of making myself look like an idiot, do not get me wrong.]
Anyways, I thought you were interesting, and that is what pulled me in. Then your love and obvious talents for mutual interests changed my feelings from curiosity to a sort of respect.
I guess it all spiraled from there. Despite prolonged study, I still do not understand much of you at all. Some things you do have me shaking my head; some make me smile; some cause disappointment--but the final product leaves me bewildered, keeping me hungry to search for anything that will complete the scattered puzzle pieces I have formed about you. Maybe someday, the puzzle will fit together and it will form a complete picture of you. Maybe. Maybe not.
I wrote down a list of all the things I looked for in a husband, and tried to match them with qualities you had. I am not even sure if you have the most important quality I seek. Yet I just keep hoping that God will change you.
So for the time being, I am trying desperately to forget yet remember you. I dislike thinking about you because it uses up so much of my time and emotions. And yet I find it a thrill to wonder if things may ever be.
I remember jokes you cracked, and they still make me smile. A certain song plays and I automatically think of you. I wonder what you would say when I do certain things, never remembering that I hardly know your true essence.
And the thing that really gets me is that ugly green-faced thing called jealousy. It rears its head at the most inopportune times, getting me all wired up over any silly thing or person I view as competition. And what right do I have to get jealous anyways? That is what really annoys me—this viewing of you as mine simply because I, well, okay, simply because I LIKE you. Is that better? I LIKE you.
Me. Liking you. Me, the girl who makes it her business to keep guys out of her own. Me, the whacko person who just, well... ARGH! It is not something I am proud of, the fact that I cannot get you out of my mind. I am supposed to pride myself on staying focused and sensible, although I have no idea where those assumptions sprouted from. But I cannot, because there is this face of an angel that pushes out all common sense and has me envisioning wedding invitations. [Granted, the wedding invitations part may be an exaggeration by a short step.] It is frustrating that I cannot be what I want to be because of you. Not like it is your fault. I am quite sure you never DID anything to lead me on.
Love may make you blind, but puppy love makes you an idiot.
I am an idiot.
When am I going to realize things are not going to work out, and that neither you nor I am ready to even think about marriage. Oh, did I mention that I am not into relationships that do not last forever? You probably know, so why am I explaining? Anyways, when I like someone, it is not chasing after a fling. I am ridiculously serious.
Where am I going with this? Oh yeah, how I feel right now.
And I am pretty sure you have completely forgotten my existence, or are pretty close to it. Or perhaps you think I am weird, which I would not completely put past you, nor do I blame you, because from what I know of you, you would not go for someone like me. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I feel like your heart is tucked away in some safe in London, guarded by ten-foot brick walls. You are impenetrable. The fact that it is the reason I was drawn to you in the first place does not change the knowing that we are such different, different people.
One side of my mouth quirked up right now. Not sure why I am amused by this post.
Hello, Fall
Hello Fall,
It’s nice to see you’re back this year, although I didn’t realize how much I missed you until you showed up. I love green, but I can’t say I entirely disapprove of the changes you’ve made around here. Bright oranges, fiery reds, rich plums, golden yellows, and deep browns seem to go together quite decently.
And cold weather calls for scarves, hats, and comfy sweaters. Not complaining about that, either.
At this point in our relationship, I can still open up the window right next to my bed as the soft breezes you brought caress my face while I sleep.
The world is edging towards Christmas, and you’re doing a great job to herald it in. You’re halfway gone already, and I’ve only finally realized you’re here. I appreciate your subtlety.
My only complaint about you is the ever-present sense of coldness and loneliness; you always make me dream about having a special guy to cuddle up with. Yeah, I’ve got a problem with that.
Hello Fall.
It’s nice to see you’re back this year, although I didn’t realize how much I missed you until you showed up. I love green, but I can’t say I entirely disapprove of the changes you’ve made around here. Bright oranges, fiery reds, rich plums, golden yellows, and deep browns seem to go together quite decently.
And cold weather calls for scarves, hats, and comfy sweaters. Not complaining about that, either.
At this point in our relationship, I can still open up the window right next to my bed as the soft breezes you brought caress my face while I sleep.
The world is edging towards Christmas, and you’re doing a great job to herald it in. You’re halfway gone already, and I’ve only finally realized you’re here. I appreciate your subtlety.
My only complaint about you is the ever-present sense of coldness and loneliness; you always make me dream about having a special guy to cuddle up with. Yeah, I’ve got a problem with that.
Hello Fall.
Decisions
At a fork in the road.
Don't know which way I should go.
Should I turn and take the left,
Or is right the better yet?
Sky so bright becomes black ink.
Please hold on!- I need to think!
But the sands of time still flow.
Which way, which way, must I go?
Swifter, swifter, swirl the stars,
Closing in from near and far.
Time and nature turned to foe-
Which way, which way, must I go?
Don't know which way I should go.
Should I turn and take the left,
Or is right the better yet?
Sky so bright becomes black ink.
Please hold on!- I need to think!
But the sands of time still flow.
Which way, which way, must I go?
Swifter, swifter, swirl the stars,
Closing in from near and far.
Time and nature turned to foe-
Which way, which way, must I go?
The Eagle
A lonely eagle,
Proud and free,
Soaring the sky
Above me.
Wind on wings.
Whistle of air.
Feel the wind
Rip through hair.
An eagle strong
Above me flies,
Filling the air
With his piercing cries.
And I below,
Confined to land,
Pleading to him
With an outstretched hand.
His disappears
To unknown sands
And on the ground,
There still I stand.
Proud and free,
Soaring the sky
Above me.
Wind on wings.
Whistle of air.
Feel the wind
Rip through hair.
An eagle strong
Above me flies,
Filling the air
With his piercing cries.
And I below,
Confined to land,
Pleading to him
With an outstretched hand.
His disappears
To unknown sands
And on the ground,
There still I stand.
"Children Are The Bridge To Heaven" - Persian Proverb
When we were young, most of what we did was by impulse, showing our true nature, for we knew not what was expected or polite. As we aged, we sat through lectures, experienced mistakes, and grew. We learned what was acceptable in certain societies and how to chameleon-ize ourselves in dissimilar circumstances.
We now act differently with people who we know can play a large part in our lives than with those who seem to be of little importance when pertaining to our future; we truckle to those in high positions and talk behind people’s backs. We have assimilated ourselves into a culture that smiles upon self-preservation as a rule.
Perhaps that is why I love children so much. Children lie when scared or as a means to innocently embellish. They say what is on their mind, and rarely regret or realize instances in which they could have offended someone. When a compliment or admonish is received from a child, one cannot but know that truth is in every word. I will admit to the fact that I have worked with children who at age 4 already knew how to suck up, but for the most part, children are truthful. Their facial emotions are blatant, their cries of delight honest.
When I am with children, I have a freedom I experience with very few people. The mask of expectations strips away and I can pretend to be a plane, play hide-and-seek, tell ridiculous stories, and sing loudly and in such a manner that my voice teacher would be appalled. I can growl like a bear, snort like a pig, and hop like a rabbit with its tail on fire. I can laugh loudly and joyously, make faces that guarantee the need for Botox in ten years, and abandon my feelings of insecurity. Freedom. Sweet, delicious freedom.
I concede that there is a necessity in life for properness, and delicacy towards the feelings and standards of others. But children are the lifeboats in society, whose refreshingly blunt comments save us from drowning in our own people-pleasing lies.
Thank God for children.
"Bitter are the tears of a child: Sweeten them.
Deep are the thoughts of a child: Quiet them.
Sharp is the grief of a child: Take it from him.
Soft is the heart of a child: Do not harden it."
- Pamela Glenconner
We now act differently with people who we know can play a large part in our lives than with those who seem to be of little importance when pertaining to our future; we truckle to those in high positions and talk behind people’s backs. We have assimilated ourselves into a culture that smiles upon self-preservation as a rule.
Perhaps that is why I love children so much. Children lie when scared or as a means to innocently embellish. They say what is on their mind, and rarely regret or realize instances in which they could have offended someone. When a compliment or admonish is received from a child, one cannot but know that truth is in every word. I will admit to the fact that I have worked with children who at age 4 already knew how to suck up, but for the most part, children are truthful. Their facial emotions are blatant, their cries of delight honest.
When I am with children, I have a freedom I experience with very few people. The mask of expectations strips away and I can pretend to be a plane, play hide-and-seek, tell ridiculous stories, and sing loudly and in such a manner that my voice teacher would be appalled. I can growl like a bear, snort like a pig, and hop like a rabbit with its tail on fire. I can laugh loudly and joyously, make faces that guarantee the need for Botox in ten years, and abandon my feelings of insecurity. Freedom. Sweet, delicious freedom.
I concede that there is a necessity in life for properness, and delicacy towards the feelings and standards of others. But children are the lifeboats in society, whose refreshingly blunt comments save us from drowning in our own people-pleasing lies.
Thank God for children.
"Bitter are the tears of a child: Sweeten them.
Deep are the thoughts of a child: Quiet them.
Sharp is the grief of a child: Take it from him.
Soft is the heart of a child: Do not harden it."
- Pamela Glenconner
Waiting
I don’t know if we have talked
Or if we’ve even met.
I don’t know if you can sing –
I wish, but I don’t yet.
What color are your eyes so bright?
What color is your hair?
How do you look when you’re asleep?
How do you say your prayers?
And is your laughter loud and free,
Or is it softly pensive?
Do you forget the little things
Or are you more attentive?
What kind of person in the morning?-
Bright and cheerful? Owl night?
How will you discipline our kids
If [rather, when] they fight?
Will you help with all the dishes?
Would [or can] you cook at all?
Will you take me out for walks
When summer eases into fall?
Would you let me plant a Willow
Tree betwixt the vines outside?
Will you satisfy my longing
For a baby porcupine?
All these answers that I’m seeking
With be found when I find you.
For the moment, know I’m waiting.
Know I’m faithful. Know I’m true.
Or if we’ve even met.
I don’t know if you can sing –
I wish, but I don’t yet.
What color are your eyes so bright?
What color is your hair?
How do you look when you’re asleep?
How do you say your prayers?
And is your laughter loud and free,
Or is it softly pensive?
Do you forget the little things
Or are you more attentive?
What kind of person in the morning?-
Bright and cheerful? Owl night?
How will you discipline our kids
If [rather, when] they fight?
Will you help with all the dishes?
Would [or can] you cook at all?
Will you take me out for walks
When summer eases into fall?
Would you let me plant a Willow
Tree betwixt the vines outside?
Will you satisfy my longing
For a baby porcupine?
All these answers that I’m seeking
With be found when I find you.
For the moment, know I’m waiting.
Know I’m faithful. Know I’m true.
"Love Is Just Love. It Can Never Be Explained."
Over grass so deep green, under thick skies of gray.
And she said, “Okay Jesus, please send me a sign
That You still love me and that You’re still mine.
I’ve been running for years, not believing You’re there.
I’ve been telling myself that You never did care.
So I’ve lived all these years acting free, young, and strong,
But this empty, draining feeling told me I was so wrong.
Oh, I wanted to return, to seek out the truth,
But I was so ashamed of what I did in my youth.
Behind every hotel door, under every street light,
I told myself You just weren’t real—that I was still right.
So I’m begging You now, if You even exist.
Can You give me the love I‘ve never had, though I wished.
I’m not expecting an answer, ‘cause I’m so ashamed
Of the things that I’ve done, how I’ve trampled Your name.”
Then the sky burst open with the fragrance of spring,
And a choir of angels in the shape of birds did sing.
And a light so bright shone down from above.
Oh, it chased away the darkness with a symphony of love.
A whisper danced down as the pure light shone,
“My child, my child, you are never alone”.
And the runaway daughter, with tears down her face,
Worshipped the Father of true love and grace.
And she said, “Okay Jesus, please send me a sign
That You still love me and that You’re still mine.
I’ve been running for years, not believing You’re there.
I’ve been telling myself that You never did care.
So I’ve lived all these years acting free, young, and strong,
But this empty, draining feeling told me I was so wrong.
Oh, I wanted to return, to seek out the truth,
But I was so ashamed of what I did in my youth.
Behind every hotel door, under every street light,
I told myself You just weren’t real—that I was still right.
So I’m begging You now, if You even exist.
Can You give me the love I‘ve never had, though I wished.
I’m not expecting an answer, ‘cause I’m so ashamed
Of the things that I’ve done, how I’ve trampled Your name.”
Then the sky burst open with the fragrance of spring,
And a choir of angels in the shape of birds did sing.
And a light so bright shone down from above.
Oh, it chased away the darkness with a symphony of love.
A whisper danced down as the pure light shone,
“My child, my child, you are never alone”.
And the runaway daughter, with tears down her face,
Worshipped the Father of true love and grace.
Fragile
Like a mountain-- solid, sturdy,
Like the crashing sea of foam,
I am standing tall and upright-
Standing strong all on my own.
But I’m so weak beneath my facade
Where the wand’ring eyes can’t see.
Like a newborn robin frail,
Look!- it’s little, fragile me.
Like the weatherbeaten willow.
Leathern bark of battle scars.
I’ll face forwards through the onslaught,
Through the front line of the war.
But I’m so weak beneath my facade
Where the wand’ring eyes can’t see.
Like the trust of a precious child,
Look!- it’s little, fragile me.
I don’t know why I’m not stronger;
Why I hide inside my mind.
Why tears can’t wait any longer.
Where’s this strength I seek to find?
You know I’m weak beneath it all
Where wand’ring eyes can’t see.
But You are my strength, and with Your love,
I’ll become a stronger me.
Give me faith to move the mountains.
Give me soaring eagle wings.
Give me strength to face tomorrow.
Lord, You are my Everything.
Like the crashing sea of foam,
I am standing tall and upright-
Standing strong all on my own.
But I’m so weak beneath my facade
Where the wand’ring eyes can’t see.
Like a newborn robin frail,
Look!- it’s little, fragile me.
Like the weatherbeaten willow.
Leathern bark of battle scars.
I’ll face forwards through the onslaught,
Through the front line of the war.
But I’m so weak beneath my facade
Where the wand’ring eyes can’t see.
Like the trust of a precious child,
Look!- it’s little, fragile me.
I don’t know why I’m not stronger;
Why I hide inside my mind.
Why tears can’t wait any longer.
Where’s this strength I seek to find?
You know I’m weak beneath it all
Where wand’ring eyes can’t see.
But You are my strength, and with Your love,
I’ll become a stronger me.
Give me faith to move the mountains.
Give me soaring eagle wings.
Give me strength to face tomorrow.
Lord, You are my Everything.
Beautiful You
Honey, I can see you
Hiding in the corner.
Sittin’ ways away from us,
Feelin’ like a loner.
Child, I can feel your
Hungry-for-some-love gaze,
Hopelessly desiring
Society’s ideal face.
But I say,
“You are beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
He made you in the darkest depths,
The secrets of the deep.
You are wonderful, incomparable, just awe-inspiring.
He made you to be who you are –
He made you beautiful.”
Darlin’, He is perfect,
Creator of us from above.
He made no mistakes, my dear,
When He molded you in love.
He knit your inmost being; you
Are wonderfully made.
You, Gorgeous, are His masterpiece,
The Potter’s precious clay.
So look into the mirror,
Look it full in the face.
Remember, we were all born
From the same human race.
Made in His own image,
We are beautiful, too.
Remember, you, His child,
Are a beautiful you.
And I say,
“You are beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
He made you in the darkest depths,
The secrets of the deep.
You are wonderful, incomparable, just awe-inspiring.
He made you to be who you are –
He made you beautiful.”
Hiding in the corner.
Sittin’ ways away from us,
Feelin’ like a loner.
Child, I can feel your
Hungry-for-some-love gaze,
Hopelessly desiring
Society’s ideal face.
But I say,
“You are beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
He made you in the darkest depths,
The secrets of the deep.
You are wonderful, incomparable, just awe-inspiring.
He made you to be who you are –
He made you beautiful.”
Darlin’, He is perfect,
Creator of us from above.
He made no mistakes, my dear,
When He molded you in love.
He knit your inmost being; you
Are wonderfully made.
You, Gorgeous, are His masterpiece,
The Potter’s precious clay.
So look into the mirror,
Look it full in the face.
Remember, we were all born
From the same human race.
Made in His own image,
We are beautiful, too.
Remember, you, His child,
Are a beautiful you.
And I say,
“You are beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
He made you in the darkest depths,
The secrets of the deep.
You are wonderful, incomparable, just awe-inspiring.
He made you to be who you are –
He made you beautiful.”
Funny
Sittin’ in a glass box up in Downtown City
Peering down on streets filled with unexpected beauty.
See the lanes of traffic twist into a dance
As the right lane bows and watches the left lane twirl and prance.
Isn’t it so funny how everything so ugly
Becomes oh, so exquisite when I am in His arms?
Don’t tell me I’m just dreaming, I know why I’m feeling
This joy beyond all measure; it’s all ‘cause of His love.
Walls of rock are painted in the black of night
With the cans of spraying rainbow amindst a gang ring fight.
See their flash of color, a sea of bright graffiti.
A beauty inexplicable, of hues so bold and free.
Isn’t it so funny how everything so ugly
Becomes oh, so exquisite when I am in His arms?
Don’t tell me I’m just dreaming, I know why I’m feeling
This joy beyond all measure; it’s all ‘cause of His love.
You’re the love I’ve searched for all my whole life long.
You blow away the darkness, oh, You write my song.
No one can replace You for You are my Lord.
My Everything, my El Shaddai, You are The Living Word.
Isn’t it so funny how everything so ugly
Becomes oh, so exquisite when I am in Your arms?
They tell me I’m just dreaming, but I know why I’m feeling
This joy beyond all measure; it’s all ‘cause of Your love.
Peering down on streets filled with unexpected beauty.
See the lanes of traffic twist into a dance
As the right lane bows and watches the left lane twirl and prance.
Isn’t it so funny how everything so ugly
Becomes oh, so exquisite when I am in His arms?
Don’t tell me I’m just dreaming, I know why I’m feeling
This joy beyond all measure; it’s all ‘cause of His love.
Walls of rock are painted in the black of night
With the cans of spraying rainbow amindst a gang ring fight.
See their flash of color, a sea of bright graffiti.
A beauty inexplicable, of hues so bold and free.
Isn’t it so funny how everything so ugly
Becomes oh, so exquisite when I am in His arms?
Don’t tell me I’m just dreaming, I know why I’m feeling
This joy beyond all measure; it’s all ‘cause of His love.
You’re the love I’ve searched for all my whole life long.
You blow away the darkness, oh, You write my song.
No one can replace You for You are my Lord.
My Everything, my El Shaddai, You are The Living Word.
Isn’t it so funny how everything so ugly
Becomes oh, so exquisite when I am in Your arms?
They tell me I’m just dreaming, but I know why I’m feeling
This joy beyond all measure; it’s all ‘cause of Your love.
"I Like Rain, Actually" - Bill Rodgers
I love the rain.
I used to despise it, tolerating it only because of the necessary part it played in life. But after the previous weeks of rain all day, every day, I’ve come to realize that rain is not as it first seems.
“I’ve come to love the rain in all its tempests and its moods. I love its every angry storm and wistful drizzle; every frightening unleashing of power and every shower so light it would make a baby cry. I love the rain.
I suppose it makes me seem rather moody and, well, emo. But I’m not. I still adore beautiful weather. I love bright sunny days full of sharp colors and heady fragrances.
But rain, oh rain, you are something different. Of its own category. Deliciously dangerous, yet safe. Angry torrents of meekness.
There’s nothing to understand about beautiful weather. But there is so much more, oh, so much more in rain than meets the eye.
You and I, rain, are from ‘the same tribe of Jacob’.” - September 23rd, 2oo9
And that’s why I love rain.
"I love the rain. I want the feeling of it on my face."
Katherine Mansfield
"Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby."
Langston Hughes
And on a more humorous note:
"If I were running the world I would have it rain only between 2 and 5 a.m. Anyone who was out then ought to get wet."
William Lyon Phelps
I used to despise it, tolerating it only because of the necessary part it played in life. But after the previous weeks of rain all day, every day, I’ve come to realize that rain is not as it first seems.
“I’ve come to love the rain in all its tempests and its moods. I love its every angry storm and wistful drizzle; every frightening unleashing of power and every shower so light it would make a baby cry. I love the rain.
I suppose it makes me seem rather moody and, well, emo. But I’m not. I still adore beautiful weather. I love bright sunny days full of sharp colors and heady fragrances.
But rain, oh rain, you are something different. Of its own category. Deliciously dangerous, yet safe. Angry torrents of meekness.
There’s nothing to understand about beautiful weather. But there is so much more, oh, so much more in rain than meets the eye.
You and I, rain, are from ‘the same tribe of Jacob’.” - September 23rd, 2oo9
And that’s why I love rain.
"I love the rain. I want the feeling of it on my face."
Katherine Mansfield
"Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby."
Langston Hughes
And on a more humorous note:
"If I were running the world I would have it rain only between 2 and 5 a.m. Anyone who was out then ought to get wet."
William Lyon Phelps
Symphony of Heart and Rain
“Pitter” says the rain,
“Patter” says her heart.
“Pitter”, “patter”, back and forth,
Replying in the dark.
Tears float down from Heaven,
Flowing into creeks,
Droplets course from reddened eyes;
Salt rivers burning cheeks.
A timpani of thunder.
A silent inward sigh.
Ad yet somehow the muted breath
Booms louder than the sky.
The pouring calms to drizzling,
And overcome by sleep,
The Dreamer dreams of Heaven
As the world above her weeps.
When the storm is over
And her victory is won,
She will arise with brightened eyes
And frolic in the sun.
“Patter” says her heart.
“Pitter”, “patter”, back and forth,
Replying in the dark.
Tears float down from Heaven,
Flowing into creeks,
Droplets course from reddened eyes;
Salt rivers burning cheeks.
A timpani of thunder.
A silent inward sigh.
Ad yet somehow the muted breath
Booms louder than the sky.
The pouring calms to drizzling,
And overcome by sleep,
The Dreamer dreams of Heaven
As the world above her weeps.
When the storm is over
And her victory is won,
She will arise with brightened eyes
And frolic in the sun.
9.09.2009
Waltz
So inadequate,
Walking past them through the halls.
So unremarkable,
Faded me.
Wallflower at best.
I don’t dress like them.
I don’t talk like them.
We know it.
Their smiles so bright
And eyes so blue,
With shiny hair so golden.
We know it.
Life is like a masquerade.
A ball, a waltz,
And they the dancers.
I, amongst the scattered chairs
Reserved for loners, faded and plain
With “stranger” pasted on my forehead
Starker than the unwritten “last year” on
My gown of simple gauze.
Dance card of life so empty and bare,
A sad comparison to theirs,
So worn with handling and flourishes of
Suitors eager to adore.
Laughter fills the air, high-pitched and giddy,
Light and dizzy.
We know it. They know it. I know it.
Hear the rhythm of the waltz
The one, two, three,
They glide by me.
And in my chair, I pine and stare
At glorious they,
Unremarkable me.
They pity me, I know they do,
With honeyed looks that pass like blue.
And then they sweep on and on,
Their trains like billowing clouds of perfumed silk.
I slip away out of the room,
Leaving strains of strings behind
Following the music of the moon.
Once outside, the cool air breathes.
I see not they, but who I am.
And so I dance my waltz alone,
My one, two three,
My glorious song.
A tune so splendid no one knows.
And never can their dresses costly rival mine
As moonlight streams between its layers light and pure.
My song.
So inadequate,
Walking past them through the halls.
So unremarkable.
Faded me,
Wallflower at best.
Until I dance my waltz.
Walking past them through the halls.
So unremarkable,
Faded me.
Wallflower at best.
I don’t dress like them.
I don’t talk like them.
We know it.
Their smiles so bright
And eyes so blue,
With shiny hair so golden.
We know it.
Life is like a masquerade.
A ball, a waltz,
And they the dancers.
I, amongst the scattered chairs
Reserved for loners, faded and plain
With “stranger” pasted on my forehead
Starker than the unwritten “last year” on
My gown of simple gauze.
Dance card of life so empty and bare,
A sad comparison to theirs,
So worn with handling and flourishes of
Suitors eager to adore.
Laughter fills the air, high-pitched and giddy,
Light and dizzy.
We know it. They know it. I know it.
Hear the rhythm of the waltz
The one, two, three,
They glide by me.
And in my chair, I pine and stare
At glorious they,
Unremarkable me.
They pity me, I know they do,
With honeyed looks that pass like blue.
And then they sweep on and on,
Their trains like billowing clouds of perfumed silk.
I slip away out of the room,
Leaving strains of strings behind
Following the music of the moon.
Once outside, the cool air breathes.
I see not they, but who I am.
And so I dance my waltz alone,
My one, two three,
My glorious song.
A tune so splendid no one knows.
And never can their dresses costly rival mine
As moonlight streams between its layers light and pure.
My song.
So inadequate,
Walking past them through the halls.
So unremarkable.
Faded me,
Wallflower at best.
Until I dance my waltz.
Your Eyes
Your eyes, your mien, your tongue declare that you are music, that you are music everywhere.” – If Music Be the Food of Love, Henry Purcell
Looking up into your eyes.
Steady gaze across the room.
One, two, three.
I break my eyes away.
Sudden flush across my cheeks.
Icy breeze, yet burning heat.
What have you done to me?
Your eyes.
So beautiful and piercing,
Rimmed with lashes long and dark.
When I look into those pools,
Emotions push against my heart.
I’m falling.
Your voice so deep and soothing,
Like lilting music through the night.
Shivers tingle down my spine.
What have you done to me?
When I raise my head again,
Our eyes, as if by magic, meet.
Adonis, how could such emotion
Be inside your eyes tonight?
Then you smile, slow and brief.
Shocked, my eyes widen.
Breath catches.
I turn my face away for good.
Adonis.
What have you done to me?
Looking up into your eyes.
Steady gaze across the room.
One, two, three.
I break my eyes away.
Sudden flush across my cheeks.
Icy breeze, yet burning heat.
What have you done to me?
Your eyes.
So beautiful and piercing,
Rimmed with lashes long and dark.
When I look into those pools,
Emotions push against my heart.
I’m falling.
Your voice so deep and soothing,
Like lilting music through the night.
Shivers tingle down my spine.
What have you done to me?
When I raise my head again,
Our eyes, as if by magic, meet.
Adonis, how could such emotion
Be inside your eyes tonight?
Then you smile, slow and brief.
Shocked, my eyes widen.
Breath catches.
I turn my face away for good.
Adonis.
What have you done to me?
My Prayer
I bless you with a love for our Lord Jesus Christ that will never be rivaled by your love for any being, idea, or object.
I bless you with such wisdom that in all circumstances, you will stand firm in tribulations, acting according to our Lord’s will.
I bless you with a maturity that will go with you wherever you are, and in whatever you do; may others see you and, in turn, seek God.
I bless you with purity of mind, heart, and soul.
I bless you with freedom, both moral and financial, so that the world can point no finger at you.
I bless you with a pure love for children, likened unto the love the Father has for all His children.
I bless you with a love, shining from your eyes, which can only come from Jesus.
I bless you with a calm heart and gentle spirit, meek in all ways, that you may be a man without anger, disciplining in love.
I bless you with a desire for righteousness, that you will seek His truth and do your utmost to spread His Word.
I bless you with a determination to complete all tasks He has assigned you, that your life purpose may reflect His light.
I bless you with laughter – bright, joyous laughter – that in your darkest moments, you may remember our Savior and praise Him.
I bless you with a compassion for the poor and needy; may you be the defender of the orphans and widows.
I bless you with the sense of worth, with the knowledge that you - your whole body, soul, and mind, are gifts from God. May He protect you from all harm that you may be a living sacrifice unto Him.
I bless you with strength, physical and spiritual, that you will protect both our children and me, when the time comes.
I bless you with character, and may you be a man of God, after His own heart.
Whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever you have done, whatever you’ll be, may God bless you with all these things, that when we meet, for the first time or again, you will have grown in Him.
In the blood and the precious, loving, and awesome name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, I pray,
Amen.
I bless you with such wisdom that in all circumstances, you will stand firm in tribulations, acting according to our Lord’s will.
I bless you with a maturity that will go with you wherever you are, and in whatever you do; may others see you and, in turn, seek God.
I bless you with purity of mind, heart, and soul.
I bless you with freedom, both moral and financial, so that the world can point no finger at you.
I bless you with a pure love for children, likened unto the love the Father has for all His children.
I bless you with a love, shining from your eyes, which can only come from Jesus.
I bless you with a calm heart and gentle spirit, meek in all ways, that you may be a man without anger, disciplining in love.
I bless you with a desire for righteousness, that you will seek His truth and do your utmost to spread His Word.
I bless you with a determination to complete all tasks He has assigned you, that your life purpose may reflect His light.
I bless you with laughter – bright, joyous laughter – that in your darkest moments, you may remember our Savior and praise Him.
I bless you with a compassion for the poor and needy; may you be the defender of the orphans and widows.
I bless you with the sense of worth, with the knowledge that you - your whole body, soul, and mind, are gifts from God. May He protect you from all harm that you may be a living sacrifice unto Him.
I bless you with strength, physical and spiritual, that you will protect both our children and me, when the time comes.
I bless you with character, and may you be a man of God, after His own heart.
Whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever you have done, whatever you’ll be, may God bless you with all these things, that when we meet, for the first time or again, you will have grown in Him.
In the blood and the precious, loving, and awesome name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, I pray,
Amen.
Bittersweet Chocolate Days
Do you remember those days long ago--
The sun always high and the shadows so low;
When whirling and twirling were all one could do;
When everything said was believed to be true?
Oh, do you remember those faraway days?
Bitter, yet sweet, to us now in our age.
Laughter and flowers, mingled with pain.
Bittersweet chocolate, let’s live it again.
How could we know what we’d grow up to be?
Did we imagine the hurt that we’d see?
Aching with grief, we wish we could be
Back in the ethereal world of the free.
But with the wisdom we’ve gained in our years,
Searching horizons with eyes full of tears,
A voice, deep within, says “It’s all part of life”,
Move onward, oh onward, towards the Great Light.
Oh, do you remember those faraway days?
Bitter, yet sweet, to us now in our age.
Laughter and flowers, mingled with pain.
Bittersweet chocolate, let’s live it again.
And so we’ll look back when we feel torn apart,
Back on those days that so soften our hearts.
Nostalgia thick as we reach through the haze.
Bittersweet, bittersweet chocolate days.
The sun always high and the shadows so low;
When whirling and twirling were all one could do;
When everything said was believed to be true?
Oh, do you remember those faraway days?
Bitter, yet sweet, to us now in our age.
Laughter and flowers, mingled with pain.
Bittersweet chocolate, let’s live it again.
How could we know what we’d grow up to be?
Did we imagine the hurt that we’d see?
Aching with grief, we wish we could be
Back in the ethereal world of the free.
But with the wisdom we’ve gained in our years,
Searching horizons with eyes full of tears,
A voice, deep within, says “It’s all part of life”,
Move onward, oh onward, towards the Great Light.
Oh, do you remember those faraway days?
Bitter, yet sweet, to us now in our age.
Laughter and flowers, mingled with pain.
Bittersweet chocolate, let’s live it again.
And so we’ll look back when we feel torn apart,
Back on those days that so soften our hearts.
Nostalgia thick as we reach through the haze.
Bittersweet, bittersweet chocolate days.
Ecstasy
Standing at the edge of the world.
Ocean vast before me.
Wind whipping my hair wildly,
Sparkling with electricity unfounded.
Sea spray soaring up to the sky.
Salty smells, pure and sharp.
Take me home to the sea.
The sting of wind-flung waves
Smashing upon the rocks,
Showering me with salty wine.
Intoxicating.
Close your eyes.
Feel the caress of the sun upon your eyelids.
Hear the far and distant echoes of the sea
Mingled with the song of gulls,
Too intertwined to separate by mortal ear.
Green, green, green.
Cover me with your waves.
The pounding, the crashing,
The bittersweet air, pushing me out of myself and
Into a world of waves and rays.
Take me home to the sea.
Ocean vast before me.
Wind whipping my hair wildly,
Sparkling with electricity unfounded.
Sea spray soaring up to the sky.
Salty smells, pure and sharp.
Take me home to the sea.
The sting of wind-flung waves
Smashing upon the rocks,
Showering me with salty wine.
Intoxicating.
Close your eyes.
Feel the caress of the sun upon your eyelids.
Hear the far and distant echoes of the sea
Mingled with the song of gulls,
Too intertwined to separate by mortal ear.
Green, green, green.
Cover me with your waves.
The pounding, the crashing,
The bittersweet air, pushing me out of myself and
Into a world of waves and rays.
Take me home to the sea.
Revelation in D31
On July 28th, 2009, at 9:55 A.M., I had a revelation.
Having taken one of the few empty seats in Gate D31 at the DFW airport, I commenced to brood and examine my surroundings:
Soldiers returning home from conflict, weary and worn, yet with an eager, hoping light in their eyes.
Hustling and bustling from all sides; honeyed voices booming over the intercom: “Last call for Andrew Lopez departing on American Airlines to Las Vegas. Last call for Andrew Lopez”.
My own heart, pumping rhythmically with my flashing thoughts.
The quiet and steady hum of noise pushing me deeper into my thoughts.
I had just returned to Gate D31 from the little McDonalds in the concession area. Not realizing that in business class, the term “snack” means “meal so large that a short little Chinese girl with no appetite cannot possibly finish it”, I bought a McSkillet.
[Of course, first choice would be a McChicken, but the lunch menu was not served until 10:30, and with my plane leaving at 10:40, I dared not chance to miss it. How was I to know they would announce my plane’s 20 minute delay immediately after I purchased the McSkillet? However, what was done was done, and I ended up giving it away to someone who needed it more than I, anyways.]
There I sat, insecurely fidgeting and scribbling away in my journal, doing my utmost to ignore the increasingly louder conversation amongst the Chinese family seated to my left.
It was a typical Chinese American family. The father was busily tapping away at his laptop, wearily finishing up the last-minute work before a well-deserved vacation; the mother was noisily clucking over her children like a fussing mother hen, switching between talking to her husband and begging her children to get off of each other; the two young and awkward sons, laden with action-figure emblazoned backpacks, were blissfully shoving each other further from their parents and closer to the busy walkways.
The topic switched to their lunch fare. Mother wanted some sort of grilled sandwich from a middle-class restaurant; children wanted “McDONALDS!”. Father didn’t care. “Alright, let’s just go get lunch.”
“But what if we miss the plane?!?” Stammered the children. “What if it leaves us here while we’re buying our food?”
I smiled to myself, jotting down in tired blue cursive, “What happens if the plane takes off while we’re gone”.
And then I paused.
As a child, my worst fear at an airport was to miss the plane. Even with the numerous flights we took every year as a family, I still nurtured the ever-present fear that I would be left while pursuing another diversion.
We are like the children. Salvation is like the plane. McDonalds represents all those unimportant, yet not always bad, pastimes that divert us from Jesus.
What if we miss our salvation by turning away for a while and focusing on something else? Lunch is good, yes, and goals are important, but are we missing the more important things?
How much am I focusing on things that could easily take me away from my plane to eternal life with The Father?
Beneath my hurried scrawl of amusement, this took the place of empty space:
“What if one misses their flight to eternal life with The Father? To miss the chance to be with Jesus for eternity is the ultimate sorrow. What diversion will take us away from Him, as lunch from the plane?”
Remember what the truly important things in life are.
Remember how easy it is to miss our plane.
Having taken one of the few empty seats in Gate D31 at the DFW airport, I commenced to brood and examine my surroundings:
Soldiers returning home from conflict, weary and worn, yet with an eager, hoping light in their eyes.
Hustling and bustling from all sides; honeyed voices booming over the intercom: “Last call for Andrew Lopez departing on American Airlines to Las Vegas. Last call for Andrew Lopez”.
My own heart, pumping rhythmically with my flashing thoughts.
The quiet and steady hum of noise pushing me deeper into my thoughts.
I had just returned to Gate D31 from the little McDonalds in the concession area. Not realizing that in business class, the term “snack” means “meal so large that a short little Chinese girl with no appetite cannot possibly finish it”, I bought a McSkillet.
[Of course, first choice would be a McChicken, but the lunch menu was not served until 10:30, and with my plane leaving at 10:40, I dared not chance to miss it. How was I to know they would announce my plane’s 20 minute delay immediately after I purchased the McSkillet? However, what was done was done, and I ended up giving it away to someone who needed it more than I, anyways.]
There I sat, insecurely fidgeting and scribbling away in my journal, doing my utmost to ignore the increasingly louder conversation amongst the Chinese family seated to my left.
It was a typical Chinese American family. The father was busily tapping away at his laptop, wearily finishing up the last-minute work before a well-deserved vacation; the mother was noisily clucking over her children like a fussing mother hen, switching between talking to her husband and begging her children to get off of each other; the two young and awkward sons, laden with action-figure emblazoned backpacks, were blissfully shoving each other further from their parents and closer to the busy walkways.
The topic switched to their lunch fare. Mother wanted some sort of grilled sandwich from a middle-class restaurant; children wanted “McDONALDS!”. Father didn’t care. “Alright, let’s just go get lunch.”
“But what if we miss the plane?!?” Stammered the children. “What if it leaves us here while we’re buying our food?”
I smiled to myself, jotting down in tired blue cursive, “What happens if the plane takes off while we’re gone”.
And then I paused.
As a child, my worst fear at an airport was to miss the plane. Even with the numerous flights we took every year as a family, I still nurtured the ever-present fear that I would be left while pursuing another diversion.
We are like the children. Salvation is like the plane. McDonalds represents all those unimportant, yet not always bad, pastimes that divert us from Jesus.
What if we miss our salvation by turning away for a while and focusing on something else? Lunch is good, yes, and goals are important, but are we missing the more important things?
How much am I focusing on things that could easily take me away from my plane to eternal life with The Father?
Beneath my hurried scrawl of amusement, this took the place of empty space:
“What if one misses their flight to eternal life with The Father? To miss the chance to be with Jesus for eternity is the ultimate sorrow. What diversion will take us away from Him, as lunch from the plane?”
Remember what the truly important things in life are.
Remember how easy it is to miss our plane.
When Words Won't Come
Throat closed, mouth shut.
Words won't come no matter what.
Pen stilled, frozen time.
Blank and empty page of lines.
My words won't flow.
What prevents them? I don't know.
Sounds rush, colors fade.
Time is lost in endless age.
Come words, come rhyme.
Let me write this poem of mine.
Flow ink from the pen.
Don't leave my thoughts without an end.
Don't leave my heart unwritten.
Words won't come no matter what.
Pen stilled, frozen time.
Blank and empty page of lines.
My words won't flow.
What prevents them? I don't know.
Sounds rush, colors fade.
Time is lost in endless age.
Come words, come rhyme.
Let me write this poem of mine.
Flow ink from the pen.
Don't leave my thoughts without an end.
Don't leave my heart unwritten.
Seventeen
Can I stay forever seventeen--
Live forever in my hopes and dreams?
Mature enough to heed my mind,
Yet fool enough to love so blind.
Forever at this age I’ll live,
Embracing all that life can give,
Enduring all the pain, for soon
The sun will rise and sing her tune.
Can I stay forever seventeen--
Live my life so strong and free?
To understand the pain of death
And value every taken breath.
And so I’ll stay forever seventeen,
Oh, every day a broken dream.
Emotions stark upon the mien.
Forever, yes, I’m seventeen.
Live forever in my hopes and dreams?
Mature enough to heed my mind,
Yet fool enough to love so blind.
Forever at this age I’ll live,
Embracing all that life can give,
Enduring all the pain, for soon
The sun will rise and sing her tune.
Can I stay forever seventeen--
Live my life so strong and free?
To understand the pain of death
And value every taken breath.
And so I’ll stay forever seventeen,
Oh, every day a broken dream.
Emotions stark upon the mien.
Forever, yes, I’m seventeen.
5.17.2009
SOS: Part 1
THIS IS FOR GIRLS. GUYS READING THIS AND APPLYING IT TO THEMSELVES IS A NO-NO.
Today I started working on the fourth lie that I believe: “I am ugly”.
I decided to read Song of Solomon, since it’s been said that this amazing love letter is reminiscent of the way Jesus feels about His bride--the church. So during Cantonese service, I read through Song of Solomon. Cantonese service never passed so quickly, and I couldn’t stop re-reading verses over and over in awe of the amazing depth of love in each word. Each verse is so precious, so meaningful.
I used to pass over the book of Song of Solomon because I never believed it could in any way relate to me. I felt the way so many girls feel, “No one could ever be insane enough to say this about me”. Yet I’ve finally realized that yes, not only am I loved as a whole, but every little trait of mine is beloved by the Great Lover. So you don’t have to read this. You may laugh at my belief in His everlasting love for us all. But for those of you who are stuck in the same situation I am in, for those who continue to believe that you are not made absolutely perfectly, please join me on my journey to discovering just how beautiful God has made every one of us.
I will skip some verses here and there that talk about the Bridegroom. My journey is to dwell on who He made me, but I will later read of how loving and beautiful He is. I will also skip some of the more… intimate verses. Hey, God made sex as a beautiful thing between a married man and woman. It’s nothing to blush about; it is sacred and must be kept as something special. However, at this time in my life, it does not apply to me, so I’ll skip those verses as well.
Verse 8:
“If you do not know, most beautiful of women…” [NIV].
“If thou know not, O thou fairest among women…” [KJV].
Most beautiful--fairest among all women. In the verses before, it speaks of how this woman has done manual labor, staying out in the sun, and becoming dark-skinned in a time when light-skinned woman were considered beautiful. And yet the Friends and the Lover call her the most fair of all women. Not “a fair woman”, not “a sort of cute person”. No, each of us is THE fairest among women! [Don’t try to follow God’s logic. We think we’re wise, but the more you learn, the more you realize how little you know. "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD” – Isaiah 55:8.]
Don’t try to think too hard, the fact is pure and simple: Each of us girls is the fairest among women. “Fair” is a word that means “pure; clean; pleasing to the eye or mind especially because of fresh, charming, or flawless quality”.
FACT: We are all the most fair of all women. NONE of us are made ugly. We can BECOME ugly by impure thoughts and actions, but when you return to the Great Lover and make yourself a living sacrifice to Him, you become beautiful once again.
Verse 9 – 11:
“I liken you, my darling, to a mare harnessed to one of the chariots of Pharaoh. Your cheeks are beautiful with earrings, your neck with strings of jewels. We will make you earrings of gold, studded with silver” [NIV]
”I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold. We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver” [KJV]
Okay, at first glance, these verses may make you snort a bit. I’m a mare? What? Deeper study, however, leaves a better idea of what the Great Lover means. Horses were rarely ever used in Biblical times for servile use. They were connected with war and strength; they bespoke of nobility and high breeding.
Horses sold during Solomon’s time were worth about one hundred dollars in 1871, which is now worth between $1,818.44 and $187,897.05. Now remember that that’s only the price of a normal war horse. Imagine the breeding and high nobility of a horse that is good enough to be harnessed to the chariots of pharaoh! That sky-high price, doubled due to the fact that an Egyptian war chariot is pulled by two horses, and the high breeding and nobility of both horses combined, is less precious and less noble than you!
FACT: You are worth more than can be described. You are a noble daughter and full of spirit.
Jewelry, jewelry, jewelry. Oh, wait, let me use modern-day talk. Ahem: bling, bling, bling. Anyways, jewelry is the age-old “ideal” way to show a girl you love her. Apparently. After all, they are expensive [wallet-sucking] and oh-so-shiny [dead]. [No, I’m not a jewelry hater, I’m just being smarmy.] The Great Lover likens your cheeks and necks to jewels. How many times have you looked in a shop window and seen rows upon rows of beautiful jewels in all the colors of the rainbow? They are such beautiful gifts that God gave us as natural resources.
The most expensive and rare jewel is the ruby. [I used to think it was a diamond, but really, it’s not.] Rubies range from light pink to deep purplish-red. What better way to compare the windswept flushed cheeks of a laughing maiden than to a ruby? You cheeks are comely with rows of jewels…”
FACT: Yep, He loves your cheeks. Don’t cover them with choppy bangs; God loves you to show to others His most precious rubies of all.
The silver and gold parts are self-explanatory. God loves you so much and He wants to adorn your neck and ears with jewelry, making more beautiful what He has already made beautiful.
FACT: Your neck—He loves it! Your ears are so beautiful to Him that He’s just itching to give you something to accentuate and bring to attention your two cute little ears. He thinks you’re wonderful.
If God could show you how much He loves you in a secular song, the closest one I could find is John Mayer’s “You Body Is A Wonderland”. I definitely don’t suggest it to anyone because of the sexual hints in it and because it’s not a pure adoration of the way God made you, but the title is perfect. HEY YOU! You know what God thinks of you? HE LOVES YOU AND HE THINKS YOU’RE PERFECT!
For three hours I’ve been focusing on four verses of the first chapter of Song of Solomon. I don’t have the time to continue today, and I’m still too much in awe of how much He loves my ears, neck, and cheeks, and how noble and costly He thinks I am. When I have the chance, I will continue on with the next verses, and I really do hope that you will read the book by yourself and accompany me on this journey to discovering just how much the Great Lover loves me.
Until next time, gorgeous girls,
Mia.
Today I started working on the fourth lie that I believe: “I am ugly”.
I decided to read Song of Solomon, since it’s been said that this amazing love letter is reminiscent of the way Jesus feels about His bride--the church. So during Cantonese service, I read through Song of Solomon. Cantonese service never passed so quickly, and I couldn’t stop re-reading verses over and over in awe of the amazing depth of love in each word. Each verse is so precious, so meaningful.
I used to pass over the book of Song of Solomon because I never believed it could in any way relate to me. I felt the way so many girls feel, “No one could ever be insane enough to say this about me”. Yet I’ve finally realized that yes, not only am I loved as a whole, but every little trait of mine is beloved by the Great Lover. So you don’t have to read this. You may laugh at my belief in His everlasting love for us all. But for those of you who are stuck in the same situation I am in, for those who continue to believe that you are not made absolutely perfectly, please join me on my journey to discovering just how beautiful God has made every one of us.
I will skip some verses here and there that talk about the Bridegroom. My journey is to dwell on who He made me, but I will later read of how loving and beautiful He is. I will also skip some of the more… intimate verses. Hey, God made sex as a beautiful thing between a married man and woman. It’s nothing to blush about; it is sacred and must be kept as something special. However, at this time in my life, it does not apply to me, so I’ll skip those verses as well.
Verse 8:
“If you do not know, most beautiful of women…” [NIV].
“If thou know not, O thou fairest among women…” [KJV].
Most beautiful--fairest among all women. In the verses before, it speaks of how this woman has done manual labor, staying out in the sun, and becoming dark-skinned in a time when light-skinned woman were considered beautiful. And yet the Friends and the Lover call her the most fair of all women. Not “a fair woman”, not “a sort of cute person”. No, each of us is THE fairest among women! [Don’t try to follow God’s logic. We think we’re wise, but the more you learn, the more you realize how little you know. "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD” – Isaiah 55:8.]
Don’t try to think too hard, the fact is pure and simple: Each of us girls is the fairest among women. “Fair” is a word that means “pure; clean; pleasing to the eye or mind especially because of fresh, charming, or flawless quality”.
FACT: We are all the most fair of all women. NONE of us are made ugly. We can BECOME ugly by impure thoughts and actions, but when you return to the Great Lover and make yourself a living sacrifice to Him, you become beautiful once again.
Verse 9 – 11:
“I liken you, my darling, to a mare harnessed to one of the chariots of Pharaoh. Your cheeks are beautiful with earrings, your neck with strings of jewels. We will make you earrings of gold, studded with silver” [NIV]
”I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold. We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver” [KJV]
Okay, at first glance, these verses may make you snort a bit. I’m a mare? What? Deeper study, however, leaves a better idea of what the Great Lover means. Horses were rarely ever used in Biblical times for servile use. They were connected with war and strength; they bespoke of nobility and high breeding.
Horses sold during Solomon’s time were worth about one hundred dollars in 1871, which is now worth between $1,818.44 and $187,897.05. Now remember that that’s only the price of a normal war horse. Imagine the breeding and high nobility of a horse that is good enough to be harnessed to the chariots of pharaoh! That sky-high price, doubled due to the fact that an Egyptian war chariot is pulled by two horses, and the high breeding and nobility of both horses combined, is less precious and less noble than you!
FACT: You are worth more than can be described. You are a noble daughter and full of spirit.
Jewelry, jewelry, jewelry. Oh, wait, let me use modern-day talk. Ahem: bling, bling, bling. Anyways, jewelry is the age-old “ideal” way to show a girl you love her. Apparently. After all, they are expensive [wallet-sucking] and oh-so-shiny [dead]. [No, I’m not a jewelry hater, I’m just being smarmy.] The Great Lover likens your cheeks and necks to jewels. How many times have you looked in a shop window and seen rows upon rows of beautiful jewels in all the colors of the rainbow? They are such beautiful gifts that God gave us as natural resources.
The most expensive and rare jewel is the ruby. [I used to think it was a diamond, but really, it’s not.] Rubies range from light pink to deep purplish-red. What better way to compare the windswept flushed cheeks of a laughing maiden than to a ruby? You cheeks are comely with rows of jewels…”
FACT: Yep, He loves your cheeks. Don’t cover them with choppy bangs; God loves you to show to others His most precious rubies of all.
The silver and gold parts are self-explanatory. God loves you so much and He wants to adorn your neck and ears with jewelry, making more beautiful what He has already made beautiful.
FACT: Your neck—He loves it! Your ears are so beautiful to Him that He’s just itching to give you something to accentuate and bring to attention your two cute little ears. He thinks you’re wonderful.
If God could show you how much He loves you in a secular song, the closest one I could find is John Mayer’s “You Body Is A Wonderland”. I definitely don’t suggest it to anyone because of the sexual hints in it and because it’s not a pure adoration of the way God made you, but the title is perfect. HEY YOU! You know what God thinks of you? HE LOVES YOU AND HE THINKS YOU’RE PERFECT!
For three hours I’ve been focusing on four verses of the first chapter of Song of Solomon. I don’t have the time to continue today, and I’m still too much in awe of how much He loves my ears, neck, and cheeks, and how noble and costly He thinks I am. When I have the chance, I will continue on with the next verses, and I really do hope that you will read the book by yourself and accompany me on this journey to discovering just how much the Great Lover loves me.
Until next time, gorgeous girls,
Mia.
3.18.2009
Akjadhrailuwns;dfiadf;lkj!
Wow. I mean, just.. wow. Lord, You are amazing! Wooow. Too excited for words.
Just.. WOW!
Just.. WOW!
3.17.2009
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