Dirty Saints

  Jesus isn't that hard to find, you see. And when you find Him, He's loving, and caring, and kind.

  So why do people doubt His existence? Why do they scoff and scorn and mock Christianity?

  You know, I've been convicted.

  I don't think it's His fault. All the time.

  I think it's mostly our fault. Christians with planks in their eyes who swing swords of harsh words and bitter remarks. 

  Oh dear Lord, how easy it is to rebuke! How much harder it is to give mercy and compassion. Our fingers point with judgement, but we are called to be saints, are we not? Yet how often do you see a saint with dirty hands and dirty heart, filthied by the caked mud of sin? 

  Let me not be the cause of a stumbling brother. Let him see Christ when he looks at me. Let him not see sinful, ordinary, black-hearted-from-sin me. Because in the end, when people look at us, we're transparent. 

  They say the eyes are stain-glass windows to the soul. 

  When people look in your windows, does the light of Christ shine out, blinding them with His goodness, His love, His kindness, His compassion? Or are your eyes filled with planks of wood as you hastily rebuke your brother to remove the splinter from his own?

  Though it may be easy to focus on others wrong doing, I find it convicting to focus on your own. You're not perfect. And Christ in His love and mercy knew that. So what makes you, saint, any different from the sinner? 

  You've both been muddied by sin. Christ has simply stopped to wipe off your dirt before moving on to the next filthy sinner. 

  You did nothing. 

  Stop pretending you did. 

A Challenge

Look, love.
It's time we came to a conclusion: Life's not perfect. I'm not perfect. You're not perfect.
Yes?
But here's the deal. This is how it'll work. Let me fill you in.
I want someone by my side when I laugh so hard that milk spurts out my nose and burns and tickles and I'm embarrassed but I can't stop laughing because I think it's hilarious too. I want someone by my side when my eyes leak salt-water, pushing down tears and watering my cheeks. I want someone by my side who will give me a knowing look, and stop me from doing or saying something when my rational-filter is broken. I want someone who will tickle me, grab me by my waist to surprise me, rub my back when the day is hard and the hours are long. Who will dream with me, and inspire me, and love me.
Are you that person?
I just don't know anymore. Many have pretended to be my knight in shining armor, but there seems to be a shortage of metal about, and they've ended up just tin-foil-fakers. Make-believe tin soldiers who aren't fit to rescue the Ordinary Princess.
Are you up for the challenge, love?

The Future is Certain

Raise your glass with me. Let's toast to the summer nights where you hold yourself, wrapped in soft woolen blankets, spread out on the itchy green grass, staring up at the blue clouds and the white stars and the expansive heavens. You can see the Little Dipper, and Orion, and the North Star.
And you think you can see God's face.
You hold yourself because your soul is in danger of fluttering away. If you don't catch it, and snap it back into place, it just might float into the starry-sky-eyed black universe never to be seen again.
But you do catch it. You snuggle it back into yourself and you smile because you know just who you are and where you're going and what you want to do.
But for a moment, for a split-second, longest-of-moments, hold-your-breath-and-shiver moment, you were scared. Because you didn't know what was going to happen.
But it's gone now. You're you. Everything's all right.
And the future is certain.
Right?

Quite Quotatious

  She collected quotes and stuffed them in her pockets; like bread crumbs they leaked out of the holes in her clothing, overflowing onto the feet of her neighbors.
  They asked her why.
  She didn't really know but she made up a lie and told them that they gave her confidence. That was false. The real reason she liked them is because they were silver-shiny, reflecting her face like mirrors, showing her herself and her insecurities and the tiny little fears that itched away at her heart like a brand new scab. The quotes ripped off that scab. They didn't even use a band aid. They just showed her for who she really was.
  And it was comforting, really. To imagine that others had thought and done and been the same. She would know if people understood who she really was that way. If she quoted something important to her and they smiled in that teacher-to-a-child way, she didn't trust them with her secrets. Not her deepest darkest black-as-a-blind-bat secrets. But if they got a spark in their right eye, and nodded, then she knew.  

The "Be Yourself Creek"

This wasn't any old creek. Some might say it was just a drainage ditch, a cast aside spot, forgotten by the rest of society.
But the Ordinary Princess saw something different. To her, it was enchanted. It was fairy touched. Trees dipped their long fingers into the water and stirred up new life, whispering to her. The sun made cut-out shadows from the leaves and blinked through sleepily.
This wasn't any old creek. It was the "Be Yourself Creek." There's not a lot of places in the world today that freely offer themselves. But the "Be Yourself Creek" did. It called to the Ordinary Princess, practically begging her.
"Here," it said, "you may be solemn. Here, you may be winsome. Here, you may be happy, or sad, or angry. Here, you may be yourself."
This wasn't any old creek. The water of that creek had healing power, the Ordinary Princess just knew it. And she danced there. On the rocks, by the plants, through the butter yellow flowers. And nothing stopped to listen. Because nothing cared. Even the Ordinary Princess didn't care. She just was.

3 Simple Rules In Life

3 Simple Rules In Life

1) If you do not go after what you want, you'll never have it.

2) If you do not ask, the answer will always be no.

3) If you do not step forward, you will always be in the same place.

  What inspiring words to live by! And how true. No use moping about. Take that free spirit and unbridled enthusiasm for life and launch into strange adventures. You may fail. You may succeed. But, cliche as it may sound, none of that really matters. Experiences matter. People matter. Trying your best. Honoring your maker.
  Courage is hard to come by. I understand. But would you rather miss out on opportunities and sit at home with cold showers every day or die with honor, glory, and the knowledge that you got somewhere in life?
  Because life is too big, too beautiful, too bursting at the seams to do anything but grasp it and hang on for the ride.

A Simple Prayer of Thanksgiving

Dear God,
Thank you for salty almonds that squeak between teeth when chewed.
And for boys, skin browned and warmed by the sun, eyes a cobalt blue.
That feeling when you get out of the water and the air kisses your skin
Thank you for ice cream that dribbles, melts, hugs onto your sticky chin.
For quiet nights of playing paparazzi for the white light night stars
And for dancing nights and singing nights when you know just who you are.
For friends that love you and hug you and know your strengths
And for people who stretch you silly, but help you reach new lengths.
Thanks for boys who aren't afraid to entwine their fingers in your hand
For being spontaneous, navigating off the map, and being quite unplanned.

Thank You.

Serendipities

"Do you believe in serendipities?" She asked, chewing on her thumbnail.
"Yes," he mused as he ran his hands through her hair, his fingers tugging at stubborn tangled curls. "But only once in a long, long while. Otherwise, I mean, if we had them everyday, how would we know they were something special?"
"Like cookies," she said. "Like cookies every day would get to be a bore."
He laughed. "That would be a good simile, except for the fact that they have cookie diets now where all you eat is cookies."
"Like cake then."
"Like cake."