Preparation
Yeah! My bridegroom is preparing a room for me in his Father's house!
Monday, February 27, 2006
Thunder In Early June
In my mother’s garden I had two favorite places – the corner with roses and the top of a walnut tree where I liked to climb.
From the top of the tree I had a different perspective on things. I think it helped me – I remember that things are not always what they seem to be. Perspective is crucial.
In early June when I started my summer holidays from school for three months, I spent time in the garden. I climbed to the top of the tree and let the wind swing me. I liked to see how the clouds quickly eclipsed the sky for a short time and the lightning and thunder breaking through. Then big summer rain drops rapidly falling on my face, running down the trunk, and making wet the little grassy path. I liked to see how ants hurriedly ran, but they still followed the path they trod earlier.
I rushed down the tree to the corner with roses. I had to catch that moment when the drops hit the rose petals and they stood gorgeous and flowerily proud. If the rain lasted longer then 5 minutes, the roses that bloomed for several days already would quit and rain pulled down the petals on the ground. Some roses lost the battle. They lay on the ground: still colorful – light pink and dark red. But just for the evening and the following morning and then turned brown under the sun. The sun was bad for the old roses but good for the new buds.
These two favorite places I liked. I ran to the garden, climbed the tree, waited for the rain, and rushed down and to the rose corner.
In my mother’s garden I had two favorite places – the corner with roses and the top of a walnut tree where I liked to climb.
From the top of the tree I had a different perspective on things. I think it helped me – I remember that things are not always what they seem to be. Perspective is crucial.
In early June when I started my summer holidays from school for three months, I spent time in the garden. I climbed to the top of the tree and let the wind swing me. I liked to see how the clouds quickly eclipsed the sky for a short time and the lightning and thunder breaking through. Then big summer rain drops rapidly falling on my face, running down the trunk, and making wet the little grassy path. I liked to see how ants hurriedly ran, but they still followed the path they trod earlier.
I rushed down the tree to the corner with roses. I had to catch that moment when the drops hit the rose petals and they stood gorgeous and flowerily proud. If the rain lasted longer then 5 minutes, the roses that bloomed for several days already would quit and rain pulled down the petals on the ground. Some roses lost the battle. They lay on the ground: still colorful – light pink and dark red. But just for the evening and the following morning and then turned brown under the sun. The sun was bad for the old roses but good for the new buds.
These two favorite places I liked. I ran to the garden, climbed the tree, waited for the rain, and rushed down and to the rose corner.
Facial Expressions
The other day we talked how some of people’s face expressions can be misleading.
One may look like frown but indeed in a deep thought.
The other might be smiling but behind that smile is a hard effort to keep it all under control.
The tears may roll down the cheeks - both from happiness and unspoken pain.
But the eyes – these said to be the mirror. They may reflect the inner man’s thoughts and feelings, or may reflect the one who looks in them!
The other day we talked how some of people’s face expressions can be misleading.
One may look like frown but indeed in a deep thought.
The other might be smiling but behind that smile is a hard effort to keep it all under control.
The tears may roll down the cheeks - both from happiness and unspoken pain.
But the eyes – these said to be the mirror. They may reflect the inner man’s thoughts and feelings, or may reflect the one who looks in them!
Frozen Puddles
When I was a kid I always liked to check on every puddle on my way to school.
I liked the crunchy sound under my feet. The frozen puddles in minus 15.
Because my school was far away and I had to go one hour earlier, so it was at 6 am, I was one of the first ones to break the thin layer of ice.
The other day I walked behind a mother and her 5 years old son. He liked the puddles too. Thankfully his mom was near him and she did not let him but a distance of a stretched hand. All the rest of the puddles on the narrow street were mine that day.
I think my nephew inherited it from me. When he goes to visit grandma, he asks his mom to bring his rubber shoes in spring and autumn. Otherwise he is puddle-wet anyway. Don’t blame on him! It is genes.
When I was a kid I always liked to check on every puddle on my way to school.
I liked the crunchy sound under my feet. The frozen puddles in minus 15.
Because my school was far away and I had to go one hour earlier, so it was at 6 am, I was one of the first ones to break the thin layer of ice.
The other day I walked behind a mother and her 5 years old son. He liked the puddles too. Thankfully his mom was near him and she did not let him but a distance of a stretched hand. All the rest of the puddles on the narrow street were mine that day.
I think my nephew inherited it from me. When he goes to visit grandma, he asks his mom to bring his rubber shoes in spring and autumn. Otherwise he is puddle-wet anyway. Don’t blame on him! It is genes.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Amazing Moments
It is amazing for me to see and hear how the little birds persevere through the cold and snow as they have waited through the long winter days for the warmer season. They utter beautiful songs or speech, and even if it is a complaint at the end of February - it is still lovely to my ear.
I wish when I am pressed hard I can let a song come out of me.
It is amazing for me to see and hear how the little birds persevere through the cold and snow as they have waited through the long winter days for the warmer season. They utter beautiful songs or speech, and even if it is a complaint at the end of February - it is still lovely to my ear.
I wish when I am pressed hard I can let a song come out of me.
Mixed Feelings
As I think of leaving the place of my birth -
I think of the people whom I know since I was a child and people who have been a part of my life for the last several years – who shared in joy and in sorrow and who taught me valuable lessons.
There is sadness that tightens my heart because I know that next time I come, I won’t see some of them any more – they will step beyond the visible horizon.
As I think of coming to a new place -
I think of the people whom I will get to know and people who will share their lives with me – who will share their joy and sorrow and who will teach me valuable lessons.
There is great bliss that lightens my heart because I know that it is the next step that I should take in my life.
As I think of leaving the place of my birth -
I think of the people whom I know since I was a child and people who have been a part of my life for the last several years – who shared in joy and in sorrow and who taught me valuable lessons.
There is sadness that tightens my heart because I know that next time I come, I won’t see some of them any more – they will step beyond the visible horizon.
As I think of coming to a new place -
I think of the people whom I will get to know and people who will share their lives with me – who will share their joy and sorrow and who will teach me valuable lessons.
There is great bliss that lightens my heart because I know that it is the next step that I should take in my life.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
The Angel Desiring To Smack
There are two people who call me an angel and there is nothing that can persuade them otherwise.
Well, have you seen an angel who wanted to smack someone?
The other day I was crossing the street and right in the middle of the road between the cars on my left and a big van and bus on my right, with all the people crossing the road
I saw this face of a street kid about thirteen. The next thing I remember was a cold wet jet of water flying straight at me through the front teeth of the boy and landing on my face. Good shot!
We passed each other different directions and as I was wiping my face with my scarf it was one of those moments that I wanted to smack someone … this boy with my bag. I decided to cool down and trace the boy days after with my water gun. Lets see, I still have to decide – to get a balloon with water or a water gun.
Saying angel? Hmm…
There are two people who call me an angel and there is nothing that can persuade them otherwise.
Well, have you seen an angel who wanted to smack someone?
The other day I was crossing the street and right in the middle of the road between the cars on my left and a big van and bus on my right, with all the people crossing the road
I saw this face of a street kid about thirteen. The next thing I remember was a cold wet jet of water flying straight at me through the front teeth of the boy and landing on my face. Good shot!
We passed each other different directions and as I was wiping my face with my scarf it was one of those moments that I wanted to smack someone … this boy with my bag. I decided to cool down and trace the boy days after with my water gun. Lets see, I still have to decide – to get a balloon with water or a water gun.
Saying angel? Hmm…
Sunday, February 19, 2006
In Response to Rudyard Kipling’s
He spoke out of the days that passed,
“If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat these two imposters just the same;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run …”
I have responded out of the days that are,
“In God’s Almighty hand He holds each day,
“With Him a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day”.
If only I could wait upon His timing and let the people stew in their impatience.
Who said that lie, when being masqueraded, can save the aching heart from biting pain?
For it is truthful word spoken in love that heals the deepest of our hurting wounds.
And, hey, when pulling out hair from your head – how many tensions were resolved by anger?
We pile the burning coals to find out that we set on fire our own belongings!
And nothing can quench the flame.
Many of us self-exalted and self-worshiped, confident smart Alex, will be surprised that
“God catches the wise in their craftiness and knows that the thoughts of the wise are futile.” But, nay, we keep on bathing in our own wisdom and understanding, selling it to others, who perish, thanks to our selfish gain.
While often dreaming of the distant heights we pass by, leaving unnoticed, precious moments: miss the joy over the first step of a baby, ignore the hurt that will leave the mark for the rest of one’s life and let go the sincere confession – dashing out reality and bargaining it for the vanity. And at the decline of our days, when the curtains are pulled down, on the death bed we count our “ifs” and “buts” to try to hold back the time and scream into the darkness, only in vain.
Man’s empty praise! Or is it? We dress in it and show in sparkly praise-robes, and try to contest whose is the longest, only in the race to fall on the ground with our bleeding nose!
Disaster comes and strikes us but only if we stand on a solid rock, will we emerge to overcome, to break through, and to see the rainbow after the severe storm.
Triumph and Disaster but neither, nor death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, no any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God.
At the appointed time neither my sympathizers nor my enemies will be present and I will have to give an account on my every thought, word and deed, and so I should keep my focus, and blow the dust from my eyes to keep on going on the ordained path.
What man’s life is but a mere breath, his days are but like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone and its place remembers it no more.
But it is only my Creator’s initiative that brings me into significance. Inspired by the Lover’s song – I can love, I can kiss until my lips burn and I can give until it hurts.
I catch the moment and walk through it on my toes …with the heart full of delight.
He spoke out of the days that passed,
“If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat these two imposters just the same;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run …”
I have responded out of the days that are,
“In God’s Almighty hand He holds each day,
“With Him a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day”.
If only I could wait upon His timing and let the people stew in their impatience.
Who said that lie, when being masqueraded, can save the aching heart from biting pain?
For it is truthful word spoken in love that heals the deepest of our hurting wounds.
And, hey, when pulling out hair from your head – how many tensions were resolved by anger?
We pile the burning coals to find out that we set on fire our own belongings!
And nothing can quench the flame.
Many of us self-exalted and self-worshiped, confident smart Alex, will be surprised that
“God catches the wise in their craftiness and knows that the thoughts of the wise are futile.” But, nay, we keep on bathing in our own wisdom and understanding, selling it to others, who perish, thanks to our selfish gain.
While often dreaming of the distant heights we pass by, leaving unnoticed, precious moments: miss the joy over the first step of a baby, ignore the hurt that will leave the mark for the rest of one’s life and let go the sincere confession – dashing out reality and bargaining it for the vanity. And at the decline of our days, when the curtains are pulled down, on the death bed we count our “ifs” and “buts” to try to hold back the time and scream into the darkness, only in vain.
Man’s empty praise! Or is it? We dress in it and show in sparkly praise-robes, and try to contest whose is the longest, only in the race to fall on the ground with our bleeding nose!
Disaster comes and strikes us but only if we stand on a solid rock, will we emerge to overcome, to break through, and to see the rainbow after the severe storm.
Triumph and Disaster but neither, nor death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, no any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God.
At the appointed time neither my sympathizers nor my enemies will be present and I will have to give an account on my every thought, word and deed, and so I should keep my focus, and blow the dust from my eyes to keep on going on the ordained path.
What man’s life is but a mere breath, his days are but like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone and its place remembers it no more.
But it is only my Creator’s initiative that brings me into significance. Inspired by the Lover’s song – I can love, I can kiss until my lips burn and I can give until it hurts.
I catch the moment and walk through it on my toes …with the heart full of delight.
The Letter
In a little envelope a piece of white paper is folded neatly.
It is a little bit heavier then the armful of fluffy snow.
But its content is more precious than the chest full of jewelry.
The words from the paper transfer to me the beat of your heart,
And it echoes to me the dreams of your childhood.
The sentences they reveal to me your fears and concerns,
And every letter speaks to me of your friendship and love.
Each time the postman arrives I want to give him a big hug.
In a little envelope a piece of white paper is folded neatly.
It is a little bit heavier then the armful of fluffy snow.
But its content is more precious than the chest full of jewelry.
The words from the paper transfer to me the beat of your heart,
And it echoes to me the dreams of your childhood.
The sentences they reveal to me your fears and concerns,
And every letter speaks to me of your friendship and love.
Each time the postman arrives I want to give him a big hug.
From Leisure
What is this life, if full of care
We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to see when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
- W. H. Davies
What is this life, if full of care
We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to see when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
- W. H. Davies
Cause She’s Loving Him Still…
All the roses faded away long time ago and
The snow fell and melted three winters ago.
In her dreams she feels his warmth but in the mornings - she is all-alone.
Can she keep the dream alive?
She cannot stop breathing; she has to go on.
She is strong in love.
One thing she asked – to love until her feet touch the ground, until her heart still beats.
She is happy the world has him.
All the roses faded away long time ago and
The snow fell and melted three winters ago.
In her dreams she feels his warmth but in the mornings - she is all-alone.
Can she keep the dream alive?
She cannot stop breathing; she has to go on.
She is strong in love.
One thing she asked – to love until her feet touch the ground, until her heart still beats.
She is happy the world has him.
Not A Kid any More
Having walked for a couple of hours from one office to the next, I found myself exhausted but I had to stride before the office would shut for the lunch break.
To shorten the way, I turned into the park where I saw this little girl with big blonde curls dressed in her little blue jeans and pinky girly shoes. Down her cheeks, like crystals, streamed huge tears and she screamed, looking at her grandma, “I cannot walk any more! My legs hurt!!! I cannot walk! I need help! Please, carry me!!!”
Sometimes little kids get grumpy and cranky and grown-ups get puzzled or distressed because their reality and perspective of things do not coincide with the reality of a child.
Little children let the grown-ups deal with their reality.
I admit that little bodies have their strings to pull, but I also think that we grown-ups, very often with good intentions to train well our child, forget that we learnt how to maneuver and go around in our world that we built out of pretence and performance. We do not tolerate divergence but demand conformity, we are heartless to the weak and we often laugh at the one who honestly reveals her weakness or limitations, and we have little compassion to offer, less encouragement and inspiration, if at all. But a spanking or reproach.
It is not appropriate to let the kid any time at any place spill her attitudes, but there should be space to let her be, to let her feel and help her to be safe when she finds her limitation, not by reproach but by a stretched hand that will mean, “I will be with you. I will help you.”
I am not a kid any more. I could not stamp my feet and squeeze my feasts in the middle of the road, though I wished I could join the blonde curly babe, at least for a minute. I wish I could scream that I was tired of making this stupid campaigns initiated by the failing fat bureaucracy.
My reality was that I still had to walk another couple of blocks. And I had to deal with my grown-up reality. I happily looked at the girl who found compassion in her grandma who took her to the bench, and I moved on remembering that I had the reason to meddle in the paper procedures and bureaucratic offices. I smiled – it was a good reason!
Having walked for a couple of hours from one office to the next, I found myself exhausted but I had to stride before the office would shut for the lunch break.
To shorten the way, I turned into the park where I saw this little girl with big blonde curls dressed in her little blue jeans and pinky girly shoes. Down her cheeks, like crystals, streamed huge tears and she screamed, looking at her grandma, “I cannot walk any more! My legs hurt!!! I cannot walk! I need help! Please, carry me!!!”
Sometimes little kids get grumpy and cranky and grown-ups get puzzled or distressed because their reality and perspective of things do not coincide with the reality of a child.
Little children let the grown-ups deal with their reality.
I admit that little bodies have their strings to pull, but I also think that we grown-ups, very often with good intentions to train well our child, forget that we learnt how to maneuver and go around in our world that we built out of pretence and performance. We do not tolerate divergence but demand conformity, we are heartless to the weak and we often laugh at the one who honestly reveals her weakness or limitations, and we have little compassion to offer, less encouragement and inspiration, if at all. But a spanking or reproach.
It is not appropriate to let the kid any time at any place spill her attitudes, but there should be space to let her be, to let her feel and help her to be safe when she finds her limitation, not by reproach but by a stretched hand that will mean, “I will be with you. I will help you.”
I am not a kid any more. I could not stamp my feet and squeeze my feasts in the middle of the road, though I wished I could join the blonde curly babe, at least for a minute. I wish I could scream that I was tired of making this stupid campaigns initiated by the failing fat bureaucracy.
My reality was that I still had to walk another couple of blocks. And I had to deal with my grown-up reality. I happily looked at the girl who found compassion in her grandma who took her to the bench, and I moved on remembering that I had the reason to meddle in the paper procedures and bureaucratic offices. I smiled – it was a good reason!
It Does Not Matter
On a thin white china plate I have a piece of freshly baked French bun with cherry filling.
I like it on a chilly day with a cup of hot tea.
I thought it would be sweeter if I could share it with my mom, only to learn that she does not like it.
First I was a bit touched that my mom disliked it, and then I wanted to convince her that it was yummy, but in a minute I realized that it is ok. She does not have to.
I do not have to push her to enjoy, cause we enjoy things when we freely do so.
And I can enjoy the French buns with my both hands.
And my mom likes a piece of sugar with a cup of tea.
Such we are! As long as the tea time flows into a heart time.
On a thin white china plate I have a piece of freshly baked French bun with cherry filling.
I like it on a chilly day with a cup of hot tea.
I thought it would be sweeter if I could share it with my mom, only to learn that she does not like it.
First I was a bit touched that my mom disliked it, and then I wanted to convince her that it was yummy, but in a minute I realized that it is ok. She does not have to.
I do not have to push her to enjoy, cause we enjoy things when we freely do so.
And I can enjoy the French buns with my both hands.
And my mom likes a piece of sugar with a cup of tea.
Such we are! As long as the tea time flows into a heart time.
Not So Strange to Me after All
Today I was walking through the center of our town.
The streets were jam-packed with people at lunchtime and I wanted to turn on a street that led through the park, in a hope to be away from the crowd.
There are some days when I want to be swept by the colorful wave of the multitude,
And I do not mind to exchange few glances and occasionally peep into one’s world even if it is just for a second.
But there are also other days, when I want to walk through the quietness of the street and to hear the crunch of the autumn leafs, to walk almost invisible to the hundred of eyes.
I still had to jump into the business of the town and as I walked, I saw a young lady, who in a warm sunny day wore her furry hood. First I thought it was strange, but then a thought came to me, that maybe it is her own way of being on her own from the crowd. Probably it was her own way of being different: her particular way of out standing or possibly desiring a bit of extra attention. We all have our needs. She did not seem so strange to me after all.
Today I was walking through the center of our town.
The streets were jam-packed with people at lunchtime and I wanted to turn on a street that led through the park, in a hope to be away from the crowd.
There are some days when I want to be swept by the colorful wave of the multitude,
And I do not mind to exchange few glances and occasionally peep into one’s world even if it is just for a second.
But there are also other days, when I want to walk through the quietness of the street and to hear the crunch of the autumn leafs, to walk almost invisible to the hundred of eyes.
I still had to jump into the business of the town and as I walked, I saw a young lady, who in a warm sunny day wore her furry hood. First I thought it was strange, but then a thought came to me, that maybe it is her own way of being on her own from the crowd. Probably it was her own way of being different: her particular way of out standing or possibly desiring a bit of extra attention. We all have our needs. She did not seem so strange to me after all.
Friday, February 17, 2006
TO MY FRIEND
I took a walk under the rain with the wind throwing raindrops on my face. Night streets became my closest friends.
The dark sky with the stars and the majestic mountains covered still with the snow, which during the day shines brightly under the beams of the sun, inspire hope in me and extend the peace.
When I lay down on the chest of my mother and hear the beat of her heart I get strength and comfort, yes… the life goes on …and the invisible eye of the Maker oversees both the starry sky and the magnificent mountains. His hand has held my mother’s heart through the difficult times… and it sustained her, this hand helped her to make it through.
I shall believe that this same invisible hand will hold us and guide us … and I will continue to turn my face to the Sky and in the direction to the mountains and I will continue to say my prayers and will trust that they will reach the ears of the King, who sits on His throne, of whom I ask to take care of you, to hold you close, to comfort you.
I do not know how the prayers work, but I will ask that through the little breeze God will give you a kiss on the cheek, that through the ray of the sun He touches your head and rans through your hair. I ask Him to speak to you through some beautiful scenery and through the human relationship to reach out to you with the hug.
I took a walk under the rain with the wind throwing raindrops on my face. Night streets became my closest friends.
The dark sky with the stars and the majestic mountains covered still with the snow, which during the day shines brightly under the beams of the sun, inspire hope in me and extend the peace.
When I lay down on the chest of my mother and hear the beat of her heart I get strength and comfort, yes… the life goes on …and the invisible eye of the Maker oversees both the starry sky and the magnificent mountains. His hand has held my mother’s heart through the difficult times… and it sustained her, this hand helped her to make it through.
I shall believe that this same invisible hand will hold us and guide us … and I will continue to turn my face to the Sky and in the direction to the mountains and I will continue to say my prayers and will trust that they will reach the ears of the King, who sits on His throne, of whom I ask to take care of you, to hold you close, to comfort you.
I do not know how the prayers work, but I will ask that through the little breeze God will give you a kiss on the cheek, that through the ray of the sun He touches your head and rans through your hair. I ask Him to speak to you through some beautiful scenery and through the human relationship to reach out to you with the hug.
Monday, February 13, 2006
The Heart
I am thankful for this heart of flesh; a heart of stone would be heavy and cold.
Though the heart of flesh is aching – not much to compare with so precious as to live heart life bursting with joy, and delight, and love, and pain, and sorrow and even loss.
The heart of flesh may hurt and ache and cry and fear,
But the heart of flesh loves, breathes, and beats and stops for a moment…and constricts and beats again.
Never do I want to exchange the heart of flesh on a heart of stone, or bronze or silver and even gold.
I am thankful for this heart of flesh; a heart of stone would be heavy and cold.
Though the heart of flesh is aching – not much to compare with so precious as to live heart life bursting with joy, and delight, and love, and pain, and sorrow and even loss.
The heart of flesh may hurt and ache and cry and fear,
But the heart of flesh loves, breathes, and beats and stops for a moment…and constricts and beats again.
Never do I want to exchange the heart of flesh on a heart of stone, or bronze or silver and even gold.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Lessons from my previous years
· To appreciate relationships and enjoy friendship while I have them. A good friend and a good relationship are a gift from God.
· Life is short; I should not waist my time on fighting, arguing, complaining and gossip.
· I was forgiven; who am I not to pardon another person?
· Enjoy the beauty of creation.
· To have Hope does not mean to sit passively, to have Hope means to strive through the life with passion through all of its ups (good) and downs (bad) with the song and assurance in my heart that the Love, Faith and Humility won.
· I may not know and even if I knew, I would not understand all the deep reasons why people make certain decisions. Human being is much more complicated than I think he/she is. I am not in a position to judge but I was given the example to love, and to love is my responsibility.
· I am most in need of Love, Patience, Forgiveness, Kindness and Encouragement. So, Alyona, be generous in offering the same to others.
· Remember that dark and low times are just for a short time and even such can work for my benefit, I just need to uplift my eyes and focus on the Main History Maker.
· To appreciate relationships and enjoy friendship while I have them. A good friend and a good relationship are a gift from God.
· Life is short; I should not waist my time on fighting, arguing, complaining and gossip.
· I was forgiven; who am I not to pardon another person?
· Enjoy the beauty of creation.
· To have Hope does not mean to sit passively, to have Hope means to strive through the life with passion through all of its ups (good) and downs (bad) with the song and assurance in my heart that the Love, Faith and Humility won.
· I may not know and even if I knew, I would not understand all the deep reasons why people make certain decisions. Human being is much more complicated than I think he/she is. I am not in a position to judge but I was given the example to love, and to love is my responsibility.
· I am most in need of Love, Patience, Forgiveness, Kindness and Encouragement. So, Alyona, be generous in offering the same to others.
· Remember that dark and low times are just for a short time and even such can work for my benefit, I just need to uplift my eyes and focus on the Main History Maker.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
In Waiting Motion…
I am caught up in the battle between winter and spring,
Yet I know that there is the One who is in control of the seasons.
I am caught up in the inner battle between my renewed self and my old nature,
Yet I know who is battling for me.
As I am in a waiting motion as I transit to the Father’s house,
I cannot afford to do nothing – I am a part of the battle.
I shall seek God’s counsel as to my next move,
It is He who trains my arms for the battle that I can win.
I am caught up in the battle between winter and spring,
Yet I know that there is the One who is in control of the seasons.
I am caught up in the inner battle between my renewed self and my old nature,
Yet I know who is battling for me.
As I am in a waiting motion as I transit to the Father’s house,
I cannot afford to do nothing – I am a part of the battle.
I shall seek God’s counsel as to my next move,
It is He who trains my arms for the battle that I can win.
Time and Distance
Through the time and distance –
Will love grow or wither?
Stirred by the fall of the snowflake – tender kiss;
Wind’s ardent embrace – feeble feet;
Starry night sky – love whispers into the ears;
Autumn leafs whirling – enduring promises.
Both time and distance – the constant observers and witnesses.
Through the time and distance –
Will love grow or wither?
Stirred by the fall of the snowflake – tender kiss;
Wind’s ardent embrace – feeble feet;
Starry night sky – love whispers into the ears;
Autumn leafs whirling – enduring promises.
Both time and distance – the constant observers and witnesses.
December 27th, 2005
Extended Kindness….
Beyond the enchanting smile that
Strikes almost everyone,
Behind the brave and never-lost-the-battle appearance
It is his beautiful heart and soul that have compassion for the men
This has awakened my inner world.
In the midst of a busy urban flow
Demands and pressure of daily life,
It is his openness and genuine interest of other’s wellbeing,
Passionate and full of life aspiration -
This challenges me to live life at its full.
It is not about staying safe in the comfortable boundaries
I have demarcated,
Observing from a distance peacefully and uninterested,
And even it is not about being the subject of his love and extended kindness
Which pour out from the storehouse of a generously loving heart;
It is not life lived at the expense of other, so willingly giving…
It is love for the sake of love…
Extended Kindness….
Beyond the enchanting smile that
Strikes almost everyone,
Behind the brave and never-lost-the-battle appearance
It is his beautiful heart and soul that have compassion for the men
This has awakened my inner world.
In the midst of a busy urban flow
Demands and pressure of daily life,
It is his openness and genuine interest of other’s wellbeing,
Passionate and full of life aspiration -
This challenges me to live life at its full.
It is not about staying safe in the comfortable boundaries
I have demarcated,
Observing from a distance peacefully and uninterested,
And even it is not about being the subject of his love and extended kindness
Which pour out from the storehouse of a generously loving heart;
It is not life lived at the expense of other, so willingly giving…
It is love for the sake of love…
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