COVENANT
New song that the Lord gave me 30 minutes ago.
For those that don’t do Tiktok:
https://youtu.be/1XeQ-qs7YgI?feature=shared
The lyrics:
G R O W. H E A L. REJOICE.
I’m pretty excited in my life right now. You’d think I won the lottery with all the fun I’ve been having lately, but no, rather, I broke my foot just over a week ago and won’t be able to return to work (as an Addiction Counselor) for the next 2 months.
The break on my left foot, in the left metatarsal, is completely severed in two:
The Orthopedist told me that it’ll take several months to heal, and that it’s going to “suck” for a long time.
Per the usual, “sucking” is truly a matter of perspective. One man’s suck is another man ‘s paradise, and I choose the latter to revel in.
I have crutches and a cast shoe I’m supposed to wear, but the majority of the time, I do just fine with strategic foot placement when walking (hobbling). I can’t stand fully on my foot with it flat on the ground, yet- I have to keep the left side (surrounding the severed bone) uplifted from the ground, forcing the bulk of my weight onto my heel. It took some getting used to but I’m like Speedy Gonzalez now, zipping around the house and yard- cleaning, cooking, gardening, shopping, and everything else I want to do.
I’ve spent the past week scrubbing the house down (including washing all of the windows)- doing some major deep cleaning…gave the cat and my two dogs a bath last night- had my own shower, made a fine supper, and then took the dogs for a 1/2 mile walk around the neighborhood- yes, with my broken foot!
You won’t see any grass growing under these feet.
I enjoy staying active throughout most days. Today, however, was my day of rest, so I stretched out on my chaise lounge with my remote and immediately fell asleep. (So much for catching a show.)
I absolutely love my new house. It’s my sanctuary. I get a ton of sunlight through my living room and sitting area windows, and in the evenings, I light candles and make tea and listen to the hundreds of bullfrogs all singing in a beautiful chorus; I’ve never been happier in life than I am right now.
I think a big part of that is my betrothal to Jesus. I’ve recently renewed my vows of love with Him; choosing to love Him above all other people in the world- including my own parents/children/ friends- there’s nobody who can compare to Him and His love.
I take my burdens, pains, sorrows, and broken heart to Him in prayer twice per day- once in the morning and again in the evening- to my prayer closet, where I go in to Him and shut the door, and am alone with my Creator- my best friend- the lover of my soul.
Jesus says, in Matthew 11:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
As humans, we tend to carry a lot of emotional and spiritual baggage within us; especially those of us who’ve experienced a lot of trauma in life, such as myself. It can be difficult to adjust our internal filters accurately, due to the damage we’ve suffered.
It’s no different than trying to fill a ziplock bag with water which has 25 jagged holes in the bag. Until the bag is repaired, there’s simply no way it’s going to hold water.
Every person has his and her own set of unique filters in life. Two people can witness the same event but tell two completely different stories- not rooted in *fact*, but based on their personal anecdotal, theoretical, and empirical life experiences.
We paint the canvas the colours based on our own unique experiences- sifting information through our own filters.
When our filters are skewed and damaged as children, we grow up seeing through those lenses. And, truth be told, we all suffer trauma in life. Nobody gets out of that one.
The question is, are we going to learn and grow and heal and share from our wreckage, or are we simply going to become part of the broken furniture, perpetually injured and damaged, sucking up the light from those around us like an eternal abyss?
Love is a choice.
Hate is s choice.
Pain is a choice.
Anger is a choice.
Forgiveness is a choice.
Unforgiveness is a choice.
Healing is a choice.
Bitterness is a choice.
Happiness is a choice.
I thank God, for freeing me from the shackles of hatred and unforgiveness toward others.
I know people, personally, who claim to be Christians- go to Church faithfully- read the Bible, pray- do all of the “righteous” things Christians are supposed to do, but their hearts are full of hatred against someone they refuse to forgive, or love.
Like Jesus said, “Their outsides are whited sepulchures, but their insides are full of dead men’s bones.”
They can iron clothes, get their kids ready, feed their family, go to church, put on a “good Christian show” in front of the entire congregation, thinking they’re a hop, skip, and a jump away from Heaven itself- but the Bible says their entire religion is a lie if they say they love God but hate their brother or sister in Christ.
Sadly, I share blood with some of these hypocrites, and don’t even get me started on their utter hypocrisy.
They’re gonna get a sad wakeup call down the road, when they try to storm Heaven, but are forbidden entrance, all because they chose hate over love..unforgiveness over forgiveness. Revenge over compassion. Giving the cold shoulder rather than a warm heart. Withholding charity rather then giving freely from their hearts.
They done gat me preachin’ up in hih!
But back to Jesus. He says, my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
The yoke He speaks of is no different than the yoke around the neck of cattle. His yoke- his instrument of corralling us into his barns, where there is (spiritual) safety, shelter, food and water- is easy, and His burden is light! Not our own. It is us, as humans, who collect heavy burdens throughout life and drag them around, from one person to the next, and then we wonder why we feel dead inside, and why we’re not experiencing joyful relationships that bear fruit.
It is because we’re shackled by our own yoke- a yoke of our own making, with combinations of blame, resentment, envy, strife, hatred and murder that are locking it in place, around our spiritual necks. But what do some do? They blame other people for that yoke that they made themselves. It’s everybody else’s fault, but never their own. In reality, it is their very mouths who’ve dug pits for their enemies that have slaughtered them. The more they vomit out their hate campaigns to one another, the tighter the noose grows around their own necks.
“Thou art snared by the words of thy mouth, thou art taken by the words of thy mouth.” -Proverbs
But Jesus’ yoke is easy.
And His burden is light.
People completely miss the simplicity of this Scripture!
We’re too caught up trying to free our own yokes from our necks that we fail to understand that we’ve got the wrong yoke on to begin with!
We’re supposed to be wearing Jesus’ yoke.
And we’re too used to carrying around our decades-long, dusty old crumbling burdens that we refuse to acknowledge the truth of this part of the Scripture- where Jesus says- MY burden is light.
We have no business (as Christians) to be dragging our decrepit old ancient burdens around in our lives, and God forbid someone should ask us how we’re doing.
“Oh, you know…I’m hanging in there…” (exhales a heavy sigh)
Wow. What a testimony of Jesus’ healing power.
I love the Scripture that states, “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”
There are so many times in the Bible where Jesus tells His disciples- and others- to REJOICE. That’s not a request, but a commandment.
“Rejoice when men shall revile you and say all manner of evil against you for my sake! For great is your reward in Heaven,” He says.
If we’re supposed to rejoice when we’re being persecuted by people- including other Christians- when they’re gnashing on us with their bloody teeth, how much more should we be rejoicing on any given day, no matter how things are going?
These are the principles I live by.
I don’t throw things up here on my blog that I haven’t birthed repeatedly- year in, year out.
This is the secret to my joy.
Notice I didn’t say my happiness.
Happiness is fleeting. It’s emotion-based. It sails in like a balloon, filling the heart, then floats out again, leaving its imprint, echoed by sadness once it’s departed.
But joy!
Joy comes from the Lord. Joy = unadulterated, never-ending happiness.
We don’t have to wait until we get to Heaven (in my case, The New City, mentioned in Revelation) to experience ever-lasting joy!
When I go before the Lord every morning (and again, every evening), on my knees in my secret place– my prayer closet- I shut my door, fall on my face, and give God, and Jesus, what they deserve, which is my praise.
Ru-Ak means “breath”, or “spirit”. It is the very least I can do, as a Christian and follower of Jesus Christ, to offer Him my breath- the very breath He breathed into me to give me life.
My special time in that secret place with the Lord is all about 2 specific things:
1.) Praise
2.) Gratitude
Without gratitude, you’re a dead duck in the water. Gratitude is woven throughout every fiber of my being.
There’s literally nothing I cannot be grateful for. I’ve experienced more hardships than most people will ever have to experience, and can honestly say, I’m grateful for every one. (You can read my BIO tab (at the top of my blog) for more information on that.)
I learned long ago that it doesn’t matter which side of God’s scales we’re on- whether it be the pain side, or the pleasure side- we owe Him our praise and gratitude, regardless. It took years of tragedy, trauma, and gut/wrenching pain for me to realize that no matter my experiences- God is still on the Throne, He’s still God, and He’s still just.
Does the sun not still shine though it’s dark and stormy? Does the sun cease to shine though it’s dark and night?
Just because we don’t see the sun shining during those times doesn’t mean it’s not still there, shining brightly.
So is God.
When I hit my knees to the ground in prayer, I thank Him for everything, including painful experiences. For it’s through the pain that we develop our strong roots. The sunshine is great, it feeds the leafy bits, but it’s the dark, cool soil and the immense pressure therein that cracks the seed’s hull open. And only then does new life begin, as the roots make their way down into the deep, dark earth, so are the prayers and the heart that pours out the pain to the Lord, covered by gratitude for the situation- no matter what I’m going through or experiencing.
The deeper the roots submerge, the richer the water! So is prayer, when the heart pours out its complaints, sorrows, burdens, and troubles before the Lord, offering up gratitude for the pain that we don’t always understand, but trusting that the Lord has already prepared our escape plan- our exit strategy- from the painful situation.
This is truly my secret to remaining joyful in every situation.
The Lord takes the pain- surrounded in gratitude- and draws it into His bosom, converting it into joy, then sends it back down through our conduit of praise.
It’s a transaction. A spiritual transaction.
Pain for joy.
Beauty for Ashes.
The pain is temporary, but the joy is never-ending.
**********************************
I started growing a lemon tree today!
I planted some lemon seeds in a silver pail, using organic (indoor) potting soil, along with some basil, and tomatoes. I’ve never tried to grow anything in my life, but I find it cathartic and relaxing to commune with nature, and to have a relationship with plants.
I can’t wait to see my first sprouts!
I love the time it takes for things to grow. For example, a lemon tree doesn’t produce fruit for its first 5-7 years. It’s a waiting game and it’ll certainly work some patience into ya.
I’m having the time of my life right now. 🤗
I’m accomplishing far more with a broken foot than I ever did without one!
I meditate on these two specific Scriptures throughout the day, when I’m working:
“In all labour there is profit, but the talk of the lips tendeth only to penury.” – Proverbs
And:
“I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.” – Ephesians
As well as:
“I have an unction from the Holy One, and know all things.”
– Unction means anointing. That was one of my Dad’s favourite Scripture’s that he shared with me.
Time for my beloved Wildflower tea with raw honey!
The frogs are singing their nightly song; I can hear them through my windows. Another wonderful day yawns and prepares to sleep…
…and dream.
D A R K L I N G
Yod Hay Vah Hay
Somebody got her first tattoo. 😎 Even my Mother loves it!
In ancient Hebrew, the words Yod Hay Vah Hay represent the Lord’s Secret Name; from the Old Testament. It represents four different classes of love, and is as follows:
Yod = Forgiving Love
Hay = Forgetting Love
Vah = Blameless Love
Hay = Sharing Love
I was absolutely ecstatic to get this very sacred tattoo on my right wrist; and when I saw it, I loved it.
Exceeeeept I noticed that he’d accidentally tattooed the first HAY backwards. I was crushed. I asked God why He’d allowed me to get His Secret Name tattooed on my wrist if it was just going to be messed up?!
He answered: “You’ve forgiven the ones who’ve hurt you the most, but have you FORGOTTEN their crimes against you?”
And then I legit almost fell onto the floor. It was then that I realized true forgiveness = forgetting! To never recall the awful things that others have done to me.
And then I was actually glad that the first HAY (Forgetting Love) was backwards, as I indeed had been backwards in my own forgiveness of others.
Cool story, no? God is so cool in the way He works! He works through situations & people.
Without further adieu, I give you my new tat: Yod Hay Vah Hay- chained about my wrist. (And I got my nose pierced too. 😎)
“This is Dad, Calling from Heaven.”
I had a strange dream the other night. My Dad called me on the phone. It sounded distant, understandably so- he passed on to Heaven a number of years ago.
“Birg,” he said. “This is Dad…calling from Heaven.”
I was shocked when I awoke. I thought it was utterly cool that he would call me from the Great Divide. 🙂 The Bible makes mention of a banister of Witnesses leaning over Heaven. God gives these particular Saints permission to cross over from time to time to witness to us that are still here. My Dad told me that himself, many years ago.
“Come on! You can make it!” They say, to encourage us.
I dream of my Dad all of the time. He comes to me many times per year, ministering to me, sharing Scriptures and such- we still have a great time, and, truth be told, you can call them “dreams”, but they’re more than that.
I had such a dream a few months ago. Me and my (extended) family were all standing on a high mountain. All of us. My Dad was at the very top and he was turned around, looking back over his shoulder. He looked like a lumberjack and was about 25 years younger. He wore a big smile on his face and was waving his hand to follow him. I knew what the dream meant, for he taught me to interpret dreams many years ago.
It was Christmas day when they took my Dad off of life support. The doctors wanted to see if he would make it through for the next few days without it. Naturally, everybody was gathered together for Christmas festivities, but I stayed at the hospital all day with him. I couldn’t bear for him to be alone on that day. We had a great time, given the circumstances. I’d already been told that he’d been muttering things incoherently because of the medication and such. But no such thing happened on that day.
Instead, he shared two Scriptures with me from the KJV and was as clear as a bell doing so. One of those verses was Titus 1:2-
Paul, a servant of God, and an apostle of Jesus Christ, according to the faith of God’s elect, and the acknowledging of the truth which is after Godliness;
2 In hope of eternal life, which God, THAT CANNOT LIE, promised before the world began;
And he went on to share with me the comfort in knowing that God cannot lie, does not lie, and will not lie. He took great comfort in the fact that God keeps all of His promises and will absolutely save us. He could accept that he felt like “the chief of sinners” much of the time, but God would ultimately keep His word and deliver him. And so it was.
I didn’t know how much time I had left with him that day. We were best friends at the end, and had been for years. We’d been through so much hell together! But such GREAT forgiveness. And, the Word does say that with much forgiveness is much love. Those who forgive the most, love the most: he surely taught me that.
I hugged him then, and fell on his neck and told him that it was a total privilege to be his daughter on this side of Heaven.
“I’ll see you up there, Dad. Save me a seat.”
And there was nothing more to say.
I thought that there would be a big gap after he died. But really, we’re still very close and “death” only stands as a doorway that he crossed through into LIFE. Even so, I’m glad he takes time out of his busy schedule “up there” to still give me a call. :0)
Turkey Drama and Toilet Paper
Well I’m glad to say that we’ve all made it through “Thanksgiving”. What does that even mean? Thanksgiving. To me, it means knowing that your kids are alive and well, you’re still breathing. We all have our meanings for it.
In my situation, it’s a bit peculiar. My sister (name withheld), and I haven’t talked since last September. Not this past September, but the September a year ago. (13 months.) Now, that said, if you and a certain family member have an unpleasant kerfuffle, you shouldn’t host Thanksgiving at your house. Why is that? Well, because you would alienate said member. Completely. Everybody and their grandmas would be welcome but you. That would be…well, rude. But that’s the case and that’s what’s happened.
My sister is devoutly “right” all the time. (Note the sarcasm.) She is the president of the hate committee of her “private sanctuary”, and services start at 9:00 a.m. every Sunday, weekly- sharp. She has wrapped every family member up in her glorious existence for more than 5 years now. If you’re less than “chaotic and dramatic”, you don’t stand a chance. Sorry…I’m thinking that there are other survivors out there like me that feel this way.
So, this year, Josh and I have chosen to eat with homeless people than to be with her and the rest of the “family”. Yes, it’s true. We’ve chosen to spend our time with street people- drug addicts and alcoholics- degenerates and the mentally ill, than to be with them. We didn’t get “an invite”, but that’s alright- we were already gone.
On the bright side of things, Josh and I are getting along splendidly. We don’t focus on the “might be’s” of the future. We’re taking each day and applying it to our lives. We’ve pulled through some amazingly difficult times. We don’t know how much time we have together, but we’re grateful for every single day and we show it. I think that’s what’s most important- that our lives are vital and static.
And today, we have toilet paper.
Can you really ask for more than that?
(Not really.)
.
Josh’s pic- guy walking in the park/SOOTC (straight out of the camera)
G3. Taken yesterday- Thanksgiving, on our mile walk at the park.
White Linen
For Shreya. xo
One of my short stories from several years ago.
White Linen
Her fingers felt like two hot stones that had soaked up the angry sun. The sweat was gathering on her back and Ellie knew that she was racing against the clock. She’d been out there for two hours now; digging, planting, and turning over the dry, crusted earth. She wiped her brow, smearing dirt on her face; mixing it with the sweat that ran down into her ear. There wasn’t even a hint of a breeze.
“Good thing too,” she thought.
A gentle breeze would only have lulled her into the hope of being comfortable. She wasn’t much of a gardener, but her mother (and her mother’s mother) had toiled away in the burning sun, just as Ellie was doing now, and so she felt it was her womanly duties, if nothing else, to keep the grounds. It was her heritage. Her land now. Her large fingers tore at the soil and she carefully placed each small stone that introduced itself, into neat little piles. The smile that was beginning to form at the corners of her mouth, was evidence that she was quite pleased with herself. She squinted and stared up into the sun. The lemon-yellow glow, radiated out from the heavens, wrapping itself around her very heart it seemed. Panting, she let her eyes drift across the canvas of the sky, and thought of the tangy lemons in her basket over the stove. She would take a few, squeeze them tightly into a pitcher (after cutting each in half), careful not to let the seeds fall in. She’d add a few cups of sugar (she could practically taste it now), rushing to the pit of her stomach as if it too were trying to get away from the burning heat.
Ellie wiped her hand on her brown, faded dress. You know the one. A rip there at the hem from rushing through life, month after month; chores and endless lists to check off. A button- missing in the back- directly across from her burdened waist; proof that she’d rewarded herself bountifully after each carefully planned meal. The floral pattern had been beaten away by the unforgiving sun, year after year of hanging out those old stained linens. Why, they must be forty years old by now! Ellie wasn’t aware that she’d drifted off again; her eyes fixed to those linens as if it were the sheets themselves that took her back to her Jonah, and the sound of his harmonica…and her laughter. But Jonah was gone and so were the years.
She wiped her eyes, again streaking dirt across her lid. Her parched mouth brought Ellie’s eyes away from the sheets and back to her tired old hands. Lemonade. Ellie put her packages of seeds next to the neatly stacked stones, and tried to rise. It felt as if the sun had exploded in her chest; her breathing, coming in heavy gasps, and she fell to the ground, scattering the stones as she went. Ellie closed her eyes, for the sun was blinding, and she pulled at the grass, reaching for something (for what, she did not know) something to feel connected to. Even with her eyes closed, she felt the shadow move over her face. Ellie opened her eyes. The sun was hiding behind the peculiar man, causing a cool shade to fall on her. For that, she was grateful. The ripping pain in her chest, seemed to have vanished, and Ellie was wondering who the stranger was that stood before her.
”Can I help you Ma’am?” he asked kindly.
Ellie shook her head, as if to say no, but then nodded her head in confusion. The glow of the sun seemed to make him glow as if he too, were indeed part of the sun.
”Y-yes…thank you….sir….,” she answered; her voice trailing off, barely above a whisper. She looked up and into his eyes. How could it be? Her Jonah was gone, and he looked nothing like him, but his eyes…she could almost be certain they were Jonah’s. Yes. She was absolutely certain that she’d seen them before. She reached up, placing her hand into his waiting one. The man pulled her up; smiling and nodding gently as he did and Ellie let out a breath of summer air, returning his smile, and gently squeezed his hand. The sight of her linens, dancing happily in the breeze, caught her eye. The gentle wind kissed her hair, refreshing her for the first time in months. She could hear the faint trail of a harmonica playing, as many do in the country, and still holding the man’s hand, Ellie looked around to take stock in all that she had to be thankful for. This is the house that sheltered her through the many seasons of her life. The garden there, was her daily companion; patiently teaching her how to grow.
”Are you ready?” asked the man.
Ellie paused, and looked back at the scattered stones. Lying next to them was the body of Ellie Parkins. Ellie saw herself, but felt as if she were looking at a stranger. Dirt streaked her forehead, and a faint smile was still painted on her mouth. Hanging on the clothesline, were those white linens, which also seemed to glow with the strength of the sun shining through them. Ellie looked up at the man, and with one last sigh, she pursed her mouth together and nodding at her new friend, walked toward the shining sun…
The Looking Glass
It’s 2:50 a.m.
Chance is going nuts, ripping and running around the living room. I just gave him a bath. Brian Bob is chilling in his room- Brianna- the same. I should be sleeping, or doing homework, but I’ve just downloaded Tex Murphey: Overseer. Gaming is one of my coping mechanisms, much like millions of other people. Until my heart heals, I’ll trudge along the motions of my life- school, cleaning, cooking, sleeping, etc. and slip away into my game as often as possible. I just can’t process any more raw emotion at this time. Tex Murphy is a welcome escape.
I’m torn between another pistachio and almond ice cream cone and Guinness Extra Stout. I have a 6 pack in the fridge and it whispers to me. I keep forgetting to drink one. I decide on lemon and ginger tea with honey instead. I’ve had a migraine for two days now. (Imagine that.) I can’t do this again tomorrow. After two days, my mind starts fracturing into tiny bits of livewire pain- sizzling every nerve until it’s raw and jittery. It does little good to complain other than to serve as a reminder that I’m still suffering. It too is a welcome escape from the pain in my heart.
There’s nothing one can do but ride the wave of heartache after a breakup. One of my x’s is all over me like white on rice- I’m disgusted. He thinks it might be a good time to squeeze back in. I think it’s highly disrespectful and pretty insulting to me. I know people do that- the rebound thing- but if you’re crawling away from the battlefield of one relationship, why would you hop into the trenches of another? That doesn’t make any sense to me, and it’s the furthest thing from my mind. (And heart.) I think I’ll be alone for a very long time. I’m a one man woman, and I think it’s necessary to experience the pain after a breakup. It tells me that the love I knew was real and that’s why it hurts so much. My friends don’t know what to say to comfort me, and that’s ok. There’s only so much another human being can offer in the way of companionship and support. If it weren’t for my love, relationship, and friendship with Jesus- I would absolutely crumble and die. I have no doubt. I’m not enough to keep myself going- I think of Sylvia Plath- and can understand how a broken heart could make her stick her head in an oven and forget to live. She couldn’t bear to lose her man to another woman. But Sylvia Plath said when she was just a child, “I’ll never talk to God again.” And I suppose she didn’t. So, she killed herself. I think she should have talked to God.
That’s where she and I differ. I love life, and as painful as it is to feel your heart being ripped from your chest, I do have a very close relationship with Jesus. We talk, commune, and just have a good time together. When I think about His love, and how He’s able to reach into every tiny place in my heart- I can’t be angry or sad for long. I smile, and know I’m loved. He washes away every awful feeling, and the bitter tears become bittersweet. They eventually become joyful, and I become like a child again, marveling at the beauty of God’s creation: I rise above the pain.
I’ve gone and talked myself right out of my misery again, and feel a half-smile creeping across my face.
Oh heart, you’re going to make it…
50 MM/manual/ISO 3200/natural lighting/Squire Boone Caverns/3.28.13
Angel Above You
It’s time for some church up in here! [Spoken in my native southern Texas accent.]
Josh and I took Brianna and Brian down to the river last night. There are three distinct areas we like to hang out at. 1) The creek bed, which runs along the flood wall. 2) The fossil beds- a perfect place to study brachiopods, trilobites, and other fossils which are embedded in the rock layers. 3) The “beach”. This is a part of the river that mimics an actual beach; complete with rolling tides, tons of driftwood, and plenty of sand. We love it there, and that’s the region we chose to frequent last night.
I’ll add another post later this with more family/river pics (including Brianna’s “sand bath”- hair included) but for now, I want to add a few inspirational pics.
I found this particular pic to be very interesting and curious. I shoot in manual- always- so when it’s getting dark, you really have to know your stuff (ISO/shutter speed/aperture/exposure compensation/white balance, etc.) because when shooting in manual, your lighting is always changing from second to second, continuously, even in broad daylight. Shooting at and after dusk is especially tricky because the focus takes longer to “catch”. This is what happened last night when I captured Josh blowing on the fire. Just as I clicked on the shutter, a stray ember popped up from the fire, shooting up and behind his shoulder (you can still see its trail) and formed a perfect cross above him. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the pic in the LCD immediately afterwards. (This pic hasn’t been “shopped”, or Photoshopped.)
I’m sure the specifics of the fire could be explained away scientifically, but I prefer to know and believe that God works in strange and beautiful ways. Even with fire. He lets us know His eyes are always on His Children, and those who love and believe in Him.
From a photographical standpoint, I shot this with a slowed shutter. (1/8 of a sec.) To non-photographers, that means that “time” was slowed down, and the camera picks up what the human eye cannot. In the blink of an eye, this cross was there and gone, but the camera’s “pause” allowed it to be captured. (It’s a good self reminder to pause more in life; we’ll see more crosses.)
S A L T O F T H E E A R T H
My daughter, Brianna/50 MM 1.8 II/manual focus/manual exposure/natural lighting
13 Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.
14 Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.
15 Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.
16 Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.
-Matthew 5: 13-16
Dreams and their Interpretations
It’s not hard interpreting dreams. I used to want to know how to do this. I would ask my Dad as a young girl, and he would smile.
“We’ll, let me hear your dream,” he’d say.
“Alright. I was going to check the mail. I opened the mailbox and as I stuck my hand in the box, a black cat screamed at me. It clawed at me and hissed, and tried to attack me,” I said.
“You have a murmuring and complaining spirit,” he would say. “Start giving thanks more.”
Wisdom cannot be bought- not with all the money in the world.
And interpreting dreams is a gift- not just anyone can do it.
I only began to interpret them after reading more and more of the Bible. It opened up my mind, completely, and sharpened my discernment. Now, when I review a dream, the meaning fills my mind immediately. It’s not anything I have to think about.
Last night, I dreamed that I had a visit from a childhood friend. She was my best friend when I was a teenager. In my dream, her legs had been mutilated just above the knee on her left leg, and just below the knee on her right. She had crutches. Also, she had black stubble coming out of her face, like a beard that she had shaved. She’s a blonde, so this was particularly odd.
In my dream, we were in a small room by the highway. A truck came roaring by, and my friend began screaming and yelling at me out of fear, as the truck grew closer, trying to kick me. Of course, she couldn’t.
In real life, she and I haven’t seen each other in over a decade.
I understood the dream immediately.
Her legs represented her Christian walk with God. The mutilation represents her struggles over the years. Because her wounds had long since scarred over, the injuries are indicative of her childhood. The stubble represents “foreign” relationships, for two reasons:
1.) the colour
2.) it’s not something that naturally occurs
(a beard on a woman)
The fact that it’s new stubble, means that it’s very recent.
Because it’s dark, male hair coming from a female chin speaks of her possible homosexual tendencies. If I were to make a bet, it’d be a safe bet assuming that she has recently taken interest in women. (Or something along those lines.)
Because she was afraid of the truck, which was zipping by, and she tried to attack me, meant that she blamed me for some of her childhood mishaps.
Interesting dream.
Another dream I had was on a patch of land, that had many hotel rooms. Each room held a prostitute- they were gaudy, wearing tacky silver dresses. The rooms were small. I had knocked on a door, because I had lost my room. I was trying to find it. My room- was clean, with nice furniture and a fireplace- very private.
I was let in to a room that I was unfamiliar with. A prostitute was trying to coax me in there. She held a small, white animal, like a little pet dog. I looked through her window and saw, over the courtyard, my room! The door was open and I could see into it. I ran fast to get down to my room, and to safety.
Another interesting dream. 🙂
The patch of land represents my heart. All of the rooms; various rooms in my heart. Notice a whore lived in each room. This does not mean that I am secretly a prostitute! But make no mistake, a whore lives in every human heart. Consider it.
What’s the first thing that happens when we see something we want, badly, that we don’t have?
We lust after it.
Yes, I’ve grown accustomed long ago to the fact that in every human heart, there indeed lives a whore.
In my dream, I was able to see the various channels and avenues of lust that I need to work on.
No matter if it’s better hair, higher grades, a skinnier waist, just this THING inside of each person that screams out, “Me! Me! Me!” That is the little whore inside.
It always wants recognition. Praise. Attention. Satisfaction.
As a Christian, I know that it is my job to willingly crucify that beast.
Daily. To take it to the cross, and lay it down.
What is it that Paul said?
“I protest by your rejoicing which I have in Christ Jesus our Lord, I die daily.”
1st Corinthians 15:31
m o n o c h r o m e j u n k i e † 