Quazie

I saw that ^ on a license plate today and laughed quite loudly.
Perhaps I'm not reading it correctly and it's supposed to mean something else, but I looked at it, looked at it again, and read "Kwazy"!!!
It was hysterically funny.

Anyway, how are you?
I'm doing much much much much much much better, thank you. All those hugs helped. :0)
But I did find out that Hep A is a two shot series... and Hep B is a Three shot series!!! I didn't know what I was getting into. *groan* And tetanus is painful. *sigh*
Oh, well. They need help. Here I go. :0)
So I'm working on a list of questions for Anthropology.
Oh, wait a minute. No I'm not. I'm writing a blog post. Silly me. :0)
I'm s'posed to be doing those questions. "Journal Questions," she calls them, no less. As if she actually expects us to keep up with them on a constant basis. Oh, wait. She does! She also expects us to read those three books she made us buy and that two inch Reader she gave us!!!
Fortunately.... she doesn't quiz us or anything. :-D I'm a bad little girl... I don't do my Anthropology reading. Tsk, tsk.
So, I was thinking about my classes this semester, and it's really interesting how they overlap. I'm learning a lot.
Child Development is teaching me how the body and brain develop, particularly at young ages.
Psychology is teaching me how/why people behave/think the way they do. It's very fascinating. That, and purple unicorns. (don't ask)
American Literature is teaching me about my culture, and why it is the way it is, and how it came to be that way. Extremely fascinating.
Pretty much the only class that isn't teaching me much at all is... *drum roll* Anthropology. I knew that would surprise you all. I mean, I love that class, right? NOT!!! Icky.
Kathey, thank you for letting me pick you up on Tuesdays and Thursdays. 'Cause if I didn't do that, I just wouldn't go, and I'd drop out or flunk, and then I'd have to take it all over again. :0)
I'm getting hooked on Arizona Raspberry Iced Tea. It's delicious. And the fact that I can get 23.5 oz for a dollar or less is absolutely marvelous!!
I did something stupid today: I drove out of the gas station with my gas cap on my trunk and the fuel door still open. I had been washing my windows and got distracted, so I forgot to put it back on and shut the door. :( So I'm now gas-cap-less, but sweet darlingest Dan is going to get me another one. :0)
In the words of Brian Regan, "Just trying to go through life without looking stupid. It's not working out too well."
Speaking of, I was at Wells Fargo today, and I'm getting ready to leave the teller window, when I catch sight of a Starbucks coffee cup out of the corner of my eye, with the little protective cardboard ring around it and everything. I touch it, ascertain that it's empty, and asked the girl if she wanted me to toss it for her. It was kind of out of her direct line of vision, so I thought maybe a careless customer had left it. She looked at me kinda funny, and said, "Uh... No. That's part of a promotion we're doing." I did a double take and saw the words "Wells Fargo" printed on the cup and the holder.
STUUUUUUUPID!!!!
Felt like a moron.
"I'm a doofus!!!!":
Oh, well. I wonder how many other people offered to do the same thing. :0)

I'm going to church now. I'll blog at ya later. :0)





(I'm feeling better: can you tell? :-P)
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Coldplay Blurb

Where do we go, nobody knows
I gotta say, I'm on my way down
God, give me style and give me grace
God, put a smile upon my face
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Life in General

Today is a better day. I wouldn't say it's a "good" day, but it's better.
I don't feel quite so lousy. I finished my Anthropology presentation, and it went quite well. I did the reading for English... kinda. I skimmed the headnote for the Romantic/European-white-racism period. Part A is what it is, Part B is what people paint it as. *shrugs* But, if you think it's the other way around, suit yourself. The test in Psychology went okay.
I have to be at work in half an hour... but I don't have to worry about repairmen, OSE, or inventory, so it should be pretty routine... *crosses fingers* I hope. :0)
Now if I can just get through the papers I have to write before Monday, I should be okay.
Other than that.....
Life as usual.
*shrugs*
Whatever that means.
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Happiness is...

Not what I'm experiencing at this moment.
*sigh*
I'll get over it, I'm sure. But I just don't feel all that great right now.
Psychologically, emotionally, physically....
I'm just... blah.
And I have a ton of homework to do, but I just don't feel up to doing it right now.
Horrible, I know. 'Specially since I have a presentation tomorrow in Anthro, reading for English, and a test in Psych.
Going to work didn't help, nor will it help tomorrow.
But, as I said.... I'll get over it.
A hug or two might help, though. :0)
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Today

Today...
Well, so far, so good.
:-D
I neglected to bring my notebook to school this morning when I took my li'l sis to school, and I really felt like writing during the hour I had to kill. So I went to the bookstore and bought a little blue book. :D And wrote for a while. Random stuff. ;-) No, you can't see it. Unless you're really, really special. :0)
Trying to decide if I want to go out tonight... with Bro and Sis. Moore, Richard, Candace, Jason, and Brandon. We were going to Bella Roma Pizza, but they're closed on Mondays, so... we shall see what will transpire.
My Aunt Candy (Cane) leaves today. She's been with us since Wednesday.
My Grandmother on my mom's side is here until... tomorrow or the next day.
Dad leaves for General Conference on Wednesday.
And.... that's about all the comings and goings I can think of.
School's okey-dokey... 'cept for that midterm I have in English tomorrow.... *sigh*

Life's pretty good right about now.
I can't really complain....

Well, if I wanted to be a brat, I could, just for the fun of it.
But I won't. :0)
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Draw Near to Me

Can I trust you?
Would you love me if you really knew the one inside?
I'm afraid to open up and let you into what I've learned to hide.
You say you want to know me, that you want to help me through.
Well, here is what I'll ask of you:
Draw near to me, and we will walk together.
Draw near to me, though the sun and through the rain, and you will see that we are not so different, that our troubles and pain are very much the same.
But you must come near to me.
There are times when I feel like an island in the middle of the sea.
How hard the winds are blowing.
I'm alone and wondering if someone will rescue me.
I feel guilty in the asking; I should quote a verse or two, but I will risk being honest with you.
Draw near to me, and we will walk together.
Draw near to me, though the sun and through the rain, and you will see that we are not so different, that our troubles and pain are very much the same.
But you must come near to me.

Geoff Moore
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Of Blogs, Blogging, Bloggers, and Those Who Read Them

So, Em thinks I (well, the Bloggees as a whole) need to post more. :0)
To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure if anyone reads this thing anymore.
I know Em does occasionally... I think... :) And Christine... But aside from that.... *shrugs*
Ah, well.
I suppose that shouldn't matter.
This is my cathartic release site, after all. And a journal, of sorts. I enjoy reading my own posts from months and months ago. It's rather interesting.
Yes, I might just be a wee bit narcissist. But only a bit.

So...
Let's start with recent events.
I went to Praise on the Mountain. First Time Ever. Drove a carfull of giggling, shrieking teenagers all the way down and all the way back. :) It wasn't that bad. I had fun.
Mom and I had our pictures done in one of those Antique Photo studios where they dress you up in costumes. They turned out incredibly spiffy. When Dad's computer gets up and running again, I'll scan and post them. My mother's so pretty. :D
We also went to Medieval Times. An enjoyable experience, yet again. We were on the Blue Knight's side, and he won. *big grin* That was cool. And he gave the "Queen of Love and Beauty" ribbon to this six-year-old cute-as-a-button girl. It was cute. It was the only thing that offset his ego, which was roughly the size of Mt. Everest. *wink* Can't really say I blame him, though. I mean, if I were a knight and had girls shrieking at me and fighting over the pitiful carnations I tossed their general direction, I might get an overinflated ego, as well.
All in all, it was most enjoyable.

Brandon is in town for a few weeks. Then he's going back to NC to find out when he's leaving. *sigh*
School has started.
I'm taking, in case I forgot to tell you, Psych, AmLit, Child Development, and Cross Cultural Child Development.

Psychology is fantastic. I learn without trying. Dr. Wachsmuth is hysterical. He has us in stitches for a good 30% of the class. I would describe it as just about anything but boring.
AmLit is.... okay. Dr. Seymour is just as spiffy as ever, but I'm not looking forward to the literary analysis and the midterm. The reading's not so bad. I actually enjoy most of the stuff. And that class is not boring, either.
Child Development is interesting, but I just took a test and I'm not too sure how well I did. She's a big "read the book" person, and shows more videos than she talks. It's hard to tell what to study for when teachers are like that. You wind up trying to study everything and really learn nothing. But the Theorist project was fun... even though I hate group work.
And Anthropology... Cross Cultural Child Development.... well.... the less said, the better. Let's just say it's not my favorite class, and leave it at that, okay? Okay.

General Updates:
I'm writing, still. Scraps and pieces, mixed in with bits and chunks. Little tiny snippets here and there... basically just scenes that "pop" into my head, or short dialogues. Nothing long or novel. Just pieces.

I'm now a big, bad Shift Leader. Oooooooooh. ;) It basically means trying to get my work done as well as making sure everyone else gets their work done. Sometimes I wonder if it's more trouble than it's worth, but then.... I dunno. It's not too bad. I just have to get used to it, that's all.

Future plans:
Hannah and I fly out October 3rd, roughly midnight, and head to Mississippi. We're joining CSI (Compassion Services International), the relief group for Katrina through UPC, for about a week. We come back the 11th. It'll be mainly counting boxes and things like that, but it'll make me feel less helpless and more useful. And a bit less selfish.

Assorted Observations:
Where did everybody go?
Emma's got work, Ben, and Hobees.
Kathryn's got work, school, Reina, and England.
Michelle's got work, school, Stan, Dan, and the Trips.
Christine's in Barstow.
Amanda's got Cristian and Natasha.
All I have is my little pity party. :)
Yes, I know when I'm feeling sorry for myself. I know when I'm being unrational, unreasonable, and illogical. That doesn't of necessity mean I'll stop. ;)
I'm fine, really.
Just feeling a wee 'ittle bit lonely.

I've been listening to Christmas Music.
Yes, I know, it's not Christmastime yet. So I've been told. I don't care. :)

I've also been playing Stan's PSP. :D

And not blogging. Apparently.

Clay Aiken is kinda cute.

This has degenerated into pointless rambling, which is generally a sure sign I'm tired and should go to sleep.

So, I take my leave of you, Gentle Reader, and humbly thank you for taking the time to visit my meager website.
I bid you good evening.
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One Down, Five to Go

Amanda got married today.
(Much love, sweetheart. I am very happy for you!)

In the next six months or so, we have:
Crystal
Denise
Ezra
Emma
Bobby (I think. I don't know the date)

Why do I suddenly feel incredibly old?
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Superstition

"The Maranthans are a superstitious lot. Use that. You can break down their courage, chip away at their confidences, whittle away their forces, convince them that God himself is conspiring against them. Play off their fears. Do it well enough, and you have won half the battle." -- Alton Xalsh, Duorian General
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I had a little turtle
I named him Tiny Tim
I put him in the bathtub
To see if he could swim
He drank up all the water
He ate up all the soap
Blurble urble urble
Now my turtle's sick in bed
With bubbles in his throat
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She frowned. He was looking at her with a decidedly odd expression on his face. She sighed and shook her head. "No."
"No?" He looked puzzled.
"No. It won't work."
He blinked. "Would you mind elaborating?"
"Life is not a novel."
He appeared to be very confused. "Keep going. . . ."
She gave him a longsuffering look. "All right, I'll spell it out for you. You are a very handsome, witty, charming man with a great physique. I am a beautiful woman who can cope with adventure and danger. We have just been through a very harrowing experience during which we spent a great deal of time together. Our lives have become irrevocably entangled and we will most likely never forget the last few days. Now, unless I miss my guess, you are about to profess your love for me. It won't work. In stories, it does; in real life, hardly ever happens. What we've experienced is called traumatic bonding and it won't last. You'll go your way, I'll go mine. We shall still recall each other later on in life with a certain measure of fondness, but this is not love."
He had a very strange look on his face, almost an amused expression. "Thank you for clearing that up for me. Now, if I may have my say?"
She sighed again. "If you must."
"There's still a smudge on your nose."
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Speechless

She wasn’t beautiful, nor was she ugly. But she was painfully shy. Unfortunately, her classmates misconstrued this as snobbishness. They figured she didn’t want to talk to them, so they didn’t talk to her. And so it went.
Alicia went through elementary school and junior high without making a single friend, or talking to anyone longer than she had to, really. Two years of high school slipped by this same way, too. Until one day, John noticed her sitting at a table during lunch, all alone.
John had been secretly voted “the cutest boy” in school, and all the girls would vie for his attention. For him to notice Alicia was a matter of great importance. He picked up his tray and went to sit by her, prompting many whispers from his classmates.
“Hi,” he said.
She looked at him for a moment; then turned her eyes away. This was too much. Four years of loneliness and now John of all people was paying attention to her.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he persisted.
“Hi,” she whispered, stealing another glance at him with shining eyes.
John frowned, and started to eat his lunch. Was it true? He had heard that this girl was incredibly snobby, but he had never really believed it. But perhaps there was some credence to the story. Lunch break slipped by without another word passing between them, but Alicia was in heaven. Maybe the years of solitude were coming to an end.
But, alas, this was not to be. John caught a lot of flak from his gesture, causing his old friends to snub him for nearly a day. This was too much for socially inclined John, so he never made another venture toward friendship with Alicia again.
For her part, Alicia went through her last two years of high school deeply wounded. She withdrew even further into herself, shying away from the people who might have actually understood her and become her friends.
Years later, in New York City, John and Alicia’s paths crossed once more. Alicia had blossomed into a beautiful lady, and John had matured into a gentleman, never losing his boyhood features. But Alicia had never gotten over her childhood shyness. She had found several friends that had helped her, but she had never completely discarded her shell.
Alicia and John began walking from opposite ends of Central Park, meeting by chance somewhere in the middle. They stood in awkward silence for several moments.
“Alicia, is that you?” John ventured.
She nodded silently, keeping her eyes averted from his face.
“It’s been a long time.”
She nodded again.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” An echo from the past slipped through his lips before he realized what he was saying.
This time she shook her head, turned, and fled.
He watched her disappear into the shadows, wishing things could have been different.
__________________________

Now, if you thought that John and Alicia would eventually become the best of friends, and that Alicia would overcome her shyness through the tender care of John, go to the blackboard and write, “Life is not a fairytale” 1000 times.
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The Broken Heart

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because he hath anointed me to. . . bind up the brokenhearted. . . .” Isaiah 61:1, Luke 14:8

A pretty, teenaged girl walked along a path, cupping something gingerly in her hands, her attention riveted on the object. Every once in a while she would stumble slightly, and then she would give a little cry and clutch her possession closer to herself. She didn’t seem to notice anything else. Consequently, she didn’t notice when another girl joined her on her walk until she said something.
“Hey, girlfriend! I’m Ashley. What have you got there?”
The girl studied her new companion carefully for a moment, as if deciding whether to trust her or not. Finally, she extended her hands. Ashley peeked inside.
There were two red fragments of something that had once been quite beautiful.
“Well, girl, what is it?”
“It’s my heart—my. . . broken heart.”
“Oh, is that all?” Ashley laughed and tossed her blond hair. “I’ve got one of those. I think we all do.” She thrust her hand inside the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a plastic bag containing the same kind of fragments.
“What do you do about it?” the girl asked, desperation showing through her voice.
Ashley shrugged. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. You have to learn to ignore it.” She smiled. “The key to ignoring it is to hide it. You have to look right, dress right, act right. Everything is great!” Ashley laughed. “The boys will come, friends will be there, good times and parties will take your mind off that.”
The girl looked at the plastic bag. The heart was completely shattered. “Did it always look like that?”
Ashley studied her heart. “No, I don’t think so. I think it was once in two pieces. Like yours.” She shoved it back in her pocket, the bulge showing through the pair of jeans that appeared to have been painted on. “But hiding it here kind of crushes it. It’s the only way, though. You have to pretend like it’s not there.”
The girl studied Ashley skeptically, then gingerly opened her pocket and placed her heart inside.
“There. That’s better, isn’t it?” Ashley said cheerfully. She linked arms with her new friend and they skipped off down the road.
They hadn’t gone more than a dozen yards when the girl’s foot hit a stone and she fell to the ground, landing hard on her side. She gave a little scream and frantically reached for her heart. She pulled out four fragments. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she knelt by the side of the road, cradling her broken heart.
Ashley shrugged carelessly. “These things happen, girlfriend. You have to go on.”
The girl shook her head. “No. I can’t do it. If it works for your, you go on.”
Ashley frowned, then shrugged again. “All right. Goodbye.”
The girl was so intent on her heart that she didn’t notice when Ashley left. She knelt there, crying, for several minutes. Then she struggled to her feet and began to walk again.
The sharp pain of having her heart broken again had just receded to a dull ache when another person joined her. He was a distinguished gentleman, with glasses and a perfect mustache. His dark suit was a bit rumpled, but he seemed very collected. Not one graying hair was out of place.
“Salutations,” he said in a deep voice. “I am Professor Jones of the University—Ph.D. in philosophy. May I inquire as to what you are holding?”
The girl lifted her tear-stained face. “It’s my heart.” Cautiously, she tilted her hands so he could see. The professor nodded sagely.
“I’ve seen many of those in my day. I even had one.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Really? What did you do with it, sir?”
He thought for a moment, then opened the briefcase he was carrying. He removed a heart with “A+” stickers plastered all over the broken points. It held together, however tentatively. “I became educated. Learning will keep your heart together. Trust me.”
“Does it really work?”
“Of course it does! Look at this heart. It’s as good as new.” Professor Jones extended the heart for her further examination.
The girl looked. The heart didn’t have the same luster as the other, whole hearts she had seen. The stickers appeared ready to fall off. “Can that happen to my heart,” she asked.
“Certainly. I happen to have some extra stickers with me.” The professor pulled out a sheet of the “A+’s” and handed them to her.
She carefully reconstructed her heart, applying stickers to the cracks. When she finished, it didn’t look quite like a heart, but it was put together again. She smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
He coughed to cover his pleasure. “Think nothing of it. I always enjoy helping aspiring students.”
The walked on down the path together, Professor Jones spouting knowledge, the girl looking in awe at her “fixed” heart. She was so intent on it that she didn’t notice the stone in her path. She stumbled and her heart flew out of her hands. The stickers couldn’t handle the strain and broke apart, leaving the heart free to shatter into even more pieces.
The girl burst into tears and scrambled to collect the fragments. Professor Jones watched, then continued down the road alone when she knelt to see if she had all the pieces. She didn’t notice he was gone. After a while, she began to walk again, holding her heart even more protectively to herself than before. The pain was sharper this time.
She walked alone for quite some time before a well-dressed business lady appeared at her side. “Good day, my dear,” the woman said pleasantly. “What are you holding?”
The girl hunched her shoulders. “Nothing,” she muttered.
“Oh, come now. It must be something,” the woman insisted. “I am Ms. King, President of the Bank. You can trust me.”
Slowly, the girl showed her treasure.
Ms. King looked at it with interest. “A heart. A broken heart. I had one of those once,” she said kindly.
“Did you mend it,” the girl asked.
“Yes, I did,” Ms. King asserted. “With some of the strongest stuff available.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a fragmented heart, bound together with golden thread. “This heart won’t break easily.”
The girl stared at the gilded heart, fascinated.
“There are two rules to keeping your heart together, my dear,” Ms. King said kindly. “Tie it together with riches, and don’t let any men get their hands on it.”
The girl held out her heart. “Can you do the same for mine?”
“Why, I can’t do it for you, my dear, but I can help you.” She took out a ball of the golden string. “This is the wealth of the world. You’re a smart, capable girl. You can have as much of it as you want.”
The girl eagerly spooled out great amounts of the string and bound her heart tightly together. It looked even less like a heart this time, but she tied and tied the string, determined not to let it break again. When she was satisfied, she and Ms, King walked along the path together, sharing experiences with their hearts. The girl was startled at how much they were alike. They had bother turned first to friends, then to education.
“Education wasn’t all that bad,” Ms. King said. “But it wasn’t the answer; it was just the means to get me here. Neither of us could have our heart wrapped up in money if we were uneducated.”
At that moment, the girl’s heart slipped out of her hands. It was as if the string had suddenly been coated with oil. It dropped to the ground and the string broke. The heart shattered again. The girl looked at the multiplied fragments in stunned shock, pain exploding inside her.
Ms. King let out a little laugh. “I suppose I should have warned you, my dear. Sometimes the string does that. You just have to tie it up again and keep going.”
“No,” the girl said, kneeling to retrieve the pieces. “I can’t. Goodbye, Ms. King.”
Ms. King smiled. “Goodbye, my dear. And good luck.” She left the girl in the middle of the road.
Her heart in dozens of pieces, the girl rose to her feet and walked unsteadily on down the path, not really seeing where she was going until she nearly bumped into a man wearing dark clothing and opaque sunglasses.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Excuse me, please.” She started to go around him when he caught her arm.
“Don’t hurry off. No harm done,” he said in a silky voice. “You look miserable.”
Suddenly, the girl found herself pouring out her story and showing him her heart. The man listened sympathetically.
“I know what you’re talking about. I’m. . . Joe. I believe I have what you’re looking for.” He pulled out a pill from his pocket. “If you use this on your heart, it will make it like it was never broken.”
Tentatively, the girl took the pill and placed it on her heart. Immediately, her heart began to float. The pieces slipped into place and hovered before her. Her jaw dropped open as she stared at it.
“Is it fixed?” she whispered.
“Well. . . not exactly. I suppose you could call it a fix. But it’s not exactly broken, either. As long as you have the pills, it will stay together.”
Then the girl felt a twinge of pain inside. She looked closer at her heart and saw miniscule cracks forming all over it. Her mouth opened in horror and she plucked the heart from the air. It crumbled into thousands of pieces as she touched it. It felt like someone thrust a burning torch inside of her.
Joe shook his head. “As long as you let it stay up there, you’ll be fine,” he explained.
She clutched her heart. “No! I won’t do it,” she yelled.
Joe shrugged. “No one’s forcing you.” He wandered off down the road.
The girl crumpled on the grass and looked dazedly at her heart. Nothing could mend it now. A tear slipped down her cheek, then another and another. Finally, she broke down and sobbed. She buried her head in her arms and cried.
Someone touched her shoulder. “What’s the matter?” a kind voice asked.
The girl lifted her head slowly and looked into a pair of friendly brown eyes. “My heart,” she sobbed. “Nothing can fix it now. I’ve tried everything.”
The man sat beside her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
It took some coaxing, but eventually the entire story tumbled out. “I suppose you have some ineffective cure for a broken heart as well,” she said bitterly. “Something that has worked for you? Tell me, so I can have my heart crushed to powder.”
“I can’t fix your heart,” the man said quietly.
She looked at him, a little shocked. “Who are you?” she asked.
He smiled. “I’m a pastor. I can’t fix your heart, but I know Someone who can.” He held out a plain box. “This is my heart. It used to be like yours, completely crushed and broken. I had despaired of ever having a whole heart again. And then I found the One who can bind up the brokenhearted.” He opened the box. Inside, on a velvet cloth, lay a whole heart. It had scars and seams, but it looked like a heart and it was complete.
“What’s holding it together?” the girl asked.
“Love,” the pastor replied.
The girl looked down at her broken heart, then to the pastor’s healed heart. “Who?”
“Come with me. I’ll introduce you.” The pastor stood up and took her hand.
Carefully holding her heart, she followed him to a hill. At the very top of the hill stood a blood-stained, rugged, splintery cross. Her eyes traveled up the wood until her gaze rested on the sign posted on top. Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.
The pastor turned to face her. “There is one condition to having your heart healed.”
“What?” the girl asked, ready to promise anything. The pain was building up.
“You have to give it away.”
“To whom?”
“The One who heals it. You have to give him all of it.”
The girl stared at her heart. The fragments seemed to shimmer in her hands. She looked up at the cross, then back at her heart.
“What’s the use of keeping a broken heart?” she said thoughtfully. She looked back to the cross. A man stood there, surrounded by such a brilliant light that she couldn’t clearly see his features. The light seemed to come from inside of him. Although she didn’t notice, the pastor stepped back, leaving her alone with Jesus.
Jesus held out his hands expectantly. The girl looked down at her heart and realized she couldn’t bear to give all of it away. She poured most of the fragments into his hands. He didn’t move, but stood silently, looking at her with such love that she began to cry. This time, she only kept one piece of her heart. As a reminder, she rationalized. He smiled sadly and made as if to give back her heart.
She dropped to her knees, sobbing, and laid the last piece in his strong, rough, gentle hands. Then she clutched at his robe, crying. Gradually, the pain that had been her constant companion throughout her journey began to subside. It decreased until it was no longer there. Her eyes filled with wonder, she looked up at Jesus.
He smiled and held out his hands. Her heart, completely whole and melded together perfectly, rested in his hands. He took her hands and cupped them around the heart. She looked at it. It had scars and seams, and it wasn’t even that pretty anymore; but the luster was back and it was very recognizable as a heart. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she touched her new heart.
“I love you, my child,” he said. His voice was filled with tenderness.
When she looked up again to thank him, Jesus was gone from her sight, but she knew he was watching her. Gazing with awe at the whole heart in her hands, she turned back to the pastor. He stood with a smile on his face.
“I thought you said I had to give my heart away,” she said, extending the heart Jesus had placed in her hands.
“You did,” the pastor said. “That’s the wonderful thing about Jesus: when you give him your heart freely, he always gives it back.”
* * *


“If I let You get Your hands on my heart
I knew there’d be changes You would wanna make
It frightened me to let down my guard
‘Cause I know how easily a heart can break
But the fear inside has faded as I’ve begun to see
This beauty You’ve created and You know what’s best for me

So I am not afraid to love You anymore
I am not afraid to love You, my Lord
I trust Your plans
They are perfect like I’ll be when You’re through
So I am not afraid to love You.”

FFH
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Spelling Lessons

Of all the words in the world
Trust is the hardest to spell
It starts with “T” and trials sore
Darkness inside and out, impossible to destroy
“R” is next, rejection and revile
For there are those who will turn on you
“U” is for unforgivable offenses
And deep, stinging, personal wounds
“S” for safety ripped apart
Plunged into a world full of adder’s bites and lion’s roars
But the final “T” makes it all okay
“T” is for triumph
If you will allow, God will lead you on
____________________

Love is one of the sweetest words
Ever to be spelled
Love your neighbor, friends, family, and enemies
That’s what God tells us
“L” is for longsuffering
Sticking around when things get bad
“O” is for overlooking
Others foibles and quirks
“V” is valuing each other
For what they do, are, and will be
“E” is for encouraging each other
Making sure they have the strength to continue
Spell it often enough and it will come back to you
“Pressed down and running over”
____________________

Faith has an interesting spelling
And it’s a word you should use
Just make sure you have the word
Connected to the right source
Because it starts with an “R”
Readily accepting what God has
“I” is for insistence that God
Has, Is, and Will take care of you
“S” is for step-by-step
Trusting God every day
“K” is the knowledge
That God has everything under control
It’s a difficult word to spell
And a little scary at times
But put it in God
And you’ll be okay
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