Finding Love Again

Just when a broken, frustrated heart wants to throw in the towel, love can come from the most unexpected of places.

Life kick-dropped you to your knees, all one can do is breathe around the pain.

On the edge of a parking garage, temptation reaches out – it whispers to jump.  Tears roll slowly down your cheeks as you consider who would actually miss you.

No one. The voice in your head assures.

Closing your eyes, two small children flash through your mind. Almost convinced they won’t even remember you in three years.

The person you chose to marry is a selfish liar.  Your heart screams for hope.  But hope has faded.

What once was yours, belongs to someone else.

All of the dreams you had, lay desolate as wasted space in your head.

Darkness clouds your hopes, you gave up on wishing for this to be different.

However, something keeps you from jumping tonight, and you return home to the baby who needs to nurse and the toddler who screams for their grandma instead of you.

Lonely nights in an empty bed, lying next to shadows on the wall.  Anxiety imagines they’re alive.  Anxiety fed to you by the man who says he loves you.

The same one who neglects his children and only needs you when it conveniences him.

As life continues to turn to rust, the bridge down the street calls out.  You imagine the water embracing your weary soul as it runs steady along the edge of another lonely town.

And that’s when you cry out for help.

The holidays pass.  The following year does not improve, and you find yourself standing on that brink again.

In your weakest moment, a hand stretches out, beckoning you from the brink of catastrophe.

A voice of reason and hope snaps you into reality.

Strength gently draws at you.  A promise that you’re going to be okay.

Two very specific prayers reach the Heavens, and within the next few weeks, you’re moving out of the darkness into a field of sunlight you didn’t even know exists.

Fear. Guilt. Anxiety. Each demon gnaws at you, pressing you to turn back.

The hope and love you found?  You’re not deserving of them. The voices snarl.  You’re an adulterated whore who “gave up”.  What makes you think you’re allowed to be happy without him?  The man who says he loves you?  The one you married?

Wrestling with searing guilt, doubt rises.  You question the God who rescued you.  You question your worth while holding the hand of the one who called you out of the darkness.

Gentle assurance warms your heart.  Love peaks for the first time.  Hope for a future where you’re adored.

After being used and forgotten.  Manipulated.  Tormented with fear.  Riddled by anxiety.  Reasoned into doubting good people exist.  Convinced people are watching your every move.  Terrified by suggestions put in your head.  Lied to countless times.  Blindsided. Emptied out and frail.


Degraded.  Berated. Forced to swallow your own hurt to take on someone elses.  Never being good enough. Questioning your worth.  Ignored.  Looked over.


What hope does a shattered soul have left for themselves, when everyone succeded to take it away?

Making excuses for the people who hurt them.  Trying to change and forced back by someones illusion of authority.

How terrifying it is to be left weak and helpless.

Without him, I wouldn’t have made it this far.  Someone to hope for me, when I didn’t want to hold on anymore.

Someone to persuade my worth was greater than I believed and I was worth holding on to.  Even when it hurt him.

How difficult it was to step out of the box and believe God wanted more for me than the mess I made for myself.

We are not without Hope.  The struggle is real.  But it’s inevitable that this broken heart was meant for more.

And love got me through.  Love I felt unworthy of.  Love that was persistent and strong enough to hold me, when I couldn’t hold myself.

That man who became my best friend, gave my broken heart something to live for.

Me.  My purpose.  My hope.  My own strength.

Nurturing and growing me when I had given up on my own dreams.

I struggled long and hard with the views of God we all know.  God hates Divorce.  God hates adultery.  God hates sin.

Yes.  It’s true.  He does not like these things.

But he is also a loving God, and does not want us to live abused and neglected.

I prayed specifically for God to remove me from the marriage I hated.

He did.

What do you need from God?

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#PrayForTheWorld

#PrayForParis

In light of the attacks in Paris, France, the earthquake in Japan which set them on Tsunami watch, the attack in Beirut…. etc….. people are raising awareness ALL AROUND the globe, of the evils and tragedy.  Social media is filling up with “Pray For The World”.

I’m going to lay out three reasons why the rest of the world needs to let FRANCE have their Moment of Silence.
1) They’re a Westernized country where the people live in Safety.
2) This was a STRATEGIC attack.
3) People. Died.  ISIS killed 129 people in a country that doesn’t even touch the Middle East.

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So many people are complaining the middle east doesn’t show up in this picture.  Well, sorry to break it to you, but the Middle East has been at war since I don’t even know when, and continues to tear itself to shreds.  America has come in to try and help, GAVE Iraq back to their people and then the terrorist group known as IS showed up.
America has responded COUNTLESS times to the Middle East.  We have permanent Military presence in Kuwait.  British troops have been to the middle east, French troops have been to the middle east.  By now, average civilians are so sick and tired of sending troops to the Middle-East because we’ve just given up hope that their countries will EVER stop fighting with each other.

Africa is not a country.  It’s a continent.  Countries in Africa have been facing turmoil for ages.  In recent years, Activists like myself have been pouring in to the countries of Africa to provide clean drinking water, shoes, clothes, gifts, schools, transportation, and a NUMBER of other things including adopting African children.  It is absolutely tragic what the governments in these countries do to their people.

Earthquakes have hit numerous countries in the last twenty years.  Teams of Christians, doctors, the American Red Cross and again other various Activists have poured into those countries to clean up, hand out supplies, take care of injuries, feed people, clothe people, adopt children who became orphans, rebuild houses, provide shelter.

The Mexican hurricane ended up far less a tragedy than was expected.  The Caribbean is affected every year by hurricanes.
It’s true, the world stood by and did NOTHING when the Syrian government destroyed the country.  And I am so sorry that happened.  IS has been KILLING HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE relentlessly.  The ONE country that could have stopped all of it when it started, was the United States of America.  Instead of going over there, dropping a bomb and calling it done, our government let it spread like an infectious disease.  They haven’t stopped since.

Our World is a horrific place.  Everywhere you turn, something new is happening.  Right NOW is the time to be standing together and fighting against it.  Right NOW is the time to Pray for these people and these countries.  Right NOW is the time to stop evil at the doorsteps.
They attacked a Western country!  A place billions of people travel to every year.  Cry for Paris, and mourn their loss.  And then stand with Paris and tell them We. Are. Not. Afraid.

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Because it’s going to happen again.  And when it does, the people of this world need to stand together against it, just as we have done with Paris.  Just as the World did when 9/11 happened, and THOUSANDS of people died in a strategic event.

Join together, Humanity.  And pray.  Pray together.  Pray for Peace.  Pray for our World.

Pray For The World

The Color of Rain

I’d rather stay inside and watch from afar
To stay far away, so you can’t see my scar
I’d rather keep quiet when you’re all around
Than to ever let on my ships run aground
Isolate myself with my insecurity
Surrender myself to the absurdity
That I will eventually be okay.

I like to cry alone when no one can hear
I like to drown out alone with my fear
Wherever I go, I know I can paint a smile for you
I’ll tell you I’m fine, although all the while, it’s true
I’m dying inside, a little more each time I’m with you.

Confident I collapse to my anxiety
Hoping that somehow you’ll hear me
The emptiness inside suffocates my heart
Will anyone come and break me apart?
Break me apart to let me out

Isolated willingly by all my doubt and fear
Wishing somehow someone might see me here
Reach deep inside, and draw me out
Can anyone come and sate this drought?

The Ranger Of Severum: Episode 6

The day had started like any other. Boring, drab, with the threat of rain. But it was a special day. The Rangers were returning from Pelivain. It meant his father would be home again.

Trillian watched out the window at the gates, his young heart beating with anticipation and longing.

“Trillian.” The beautiful voice of his mother sung out to him.

The boy reluctantly pushed off of the window and hurried out of his room to find her.

Her voice continued to stretch through the halls calling out, “Trillian? Trillian where are you?”

“I’m coming, mother, I’m coming.” He tried to follow the sounds of the echoes. Each of the rooms that she usually kept to were empty, and the sound of her voice was getting further and further away, “Mother?” He shouted desperately. The beat of his heart quickened as Trillian left the east wing of the Severum, “Mother?” He continued to call nervously, now aware that he was quickly going to be someplace he wasn’t allowed to go.

Sideon, the Master of the Rangers of Severum, walked out of the library looking for Trillian.

“There you are boy.” His tone was gentle, as though beckoning Trillian to him, “Your mother is here, child.”

The little boy was frightened of Sideon, the Master behaved like a good man, but Trillian knew better. His mother had been called away to see Sideon, coming back crying one too many times. Trillian was right to fear him, and deep in his heart he hated the man for making his mother cry.

In slow, heavy steps, as though his feet were weighted with lead, Trillian moved toward Sideon, not at all trusting the man. The only sound he could hear was his racing heart, as his stomach churned violently.

Sideon held his arm outstretched towards the library door.  The boy continued in his fearful steps, reluctant to see what was behind the door.

Indeed, his mother stood there. Her arms crossed and her eyes seeming sad. She appeared to be unharmed, but the little boy could tell something was wrong.

“Trillian.” She exclaimed, opening her arms to him.

The boy ran eagerly into his mothers embrace, “What? What is it mother?” He asked, trying to swallow the lump gathering in his throat from fear.

She released him, kneeling down to look into his eyes, “Trillian, you father—” She hesitated. Her bright blue eyes looking past Trillian’s to Sideon. “Your father,” she started again, “is—”

Trillian’s eyes stretched open wide fearing what her hesitation meant, “He’s what?” He begged, “He’s what, mother?”

“Now Trillian, you must be brave.” He heard Sideon say, “Your mother is going to need you to be brave for her, because she can’t do it alone.”

“What is it mother?” Little Trillian shouted.

She smiled softly, “He’s not coming home.” The smile fell and her eyes blinked out tears.

“You’re lying.” Trillian started shaking, “You’re lying!” He shouted. “He promised he would be back, and he never breaks his promises.”

“No, Trillian. He doesn’t. Your father never breaks his promises.” His mother’s tears were now streaming down her cheeks, and her lip trembled, “But sometimes, things can happen. And these things cause people to break promises without meaning to.”

“What she means child, is that your father is dead.”

As though a spike were shoved through Trillian’s chest, the boy turned and violently shouted at Sideon, “You killed him. You did this!” Heaving several times, with tears spilling down his cheeks, Trillian ran from the room.

While the boy ran, the floor seemed to swell and blur from under his feet, the stone halls of the Severum shifting into a dark forest.

Just ahead of him, a group of rangers were huddled around something lying on the ground.

Approaching softly, the little boy heard one of them say the man was gone, it was no use. He was dead.

The figures wavered for a moment before disappearing altogether, but the body was still there, lying on the ground.

The boy trembled uncontrollably, weeping as he approached, knowing who it was before he even got there.

“Father?” Trillian walked in hesitant steps toward the body. He had never seen a corpse before, and the graying skin frightened him. He continued to weep, his mind desperately tried to divert his eyes.

 

Trillian awoke with a start, sitting up quickly. His breath hissed through his teeth as he choked back the lump growing in his throat. Running his hands through his long dark hair, hanging loose about his shoulders, he shook his head several times, as though trying to clear out the darkness and clinging emotions lingering from the nightmare.

He always woke at the same moment. Always just before he had the opportunity to see his father’s cold, dark eyes, staring at the sky. Always before he had the chance to know what his father looked like at the moment of his passing. Always just short of coming to peace with the fact that his father was gone.

It had been said that his father died in the skirmishes they encountered with the druids. Trillian, however, suspected that he was murdered.

Sideon was deeply attracted to Trillian’s mother, and whenever his father left, the Master would lure her away for hours at a time. It did not take long after his fathers death for Sideon to offer marriage to his mother. Before he knew it, they wed, moved into Sideon’s wing of the Severum, and Trillian was immediately forsaken by all of his peers.

The awareness of his healing wings came to mind, as a cramp that had built from the way he had to sleep started to spread through his side. They had moved his bed from the wall in order to situate a sort of hammock next to the bed, so Trillian could rest his wings onto it while he slept. This took the strain off of his back, giving him room to relax. In the beginning it took help to figure out, but now he was able to manage himself, and hopefully he wouldn’t have to worry about it very much longer.

It had been three weeks since the injury. A smile tugged on his lips, three weeks since he had met Yulissa. Although there hadn’t been opportunity to see her since their meeting, he couldn’t help remembering the way her hands felt on his back. When the surgeon had finished putting him back together, Trillian had decided he much preferred Yulissa’s gentle, delicate way of attention. She did not cause more pain in the process. Though, he was quite glad they would be healing properly.

Trillian was plagued by the nightmare and wasn’t sure if he could go back to sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached out and touched the lamp wick catching it aflame.

Massaging his side, attempting to bend the other direction to stretch it out. With his wings, this proved difficult, but with enough adjusting and shifting, he was able to find a comfortable position to relax in.

He sat back again, rubbing his brow. Morning wasn’t for a few more hours. Maybe after breakfast he would check in on the woman. He found himself strangely curious to know how she was doing. At least she took his mind off of the nightmare. For now.

When Pain Becomes Too Hard To Bear

What words are there when no one knows what to say?

Someone will always crack a comment.  One that will sting.

Someone will remark with something unfeeling, heartless, or even just plain apathetic.

Someone will try to be sympathetic, but fail to say what everyone is wanting to hear.

Another will see it as an opportunity to preach about how we don’t know our hour, and we need Jesus – when we don’t even know if the one we’ve all come to mourn made it to heaven.

Maybe no one will cry.

Maybe no one will even remember.

But regardless, it will effect all of us the same way.

What makes people so hateful?  What makes them hurt so much that they take it out on each other?  What makes them think they are any better than the one that sits next to them in class?  If we all live, we all hurt.
But we don’t all deal with it the same way.

Little girl, I am sorry that it hurt so much that you couldn’t handle it anymore.
I will cry, and I will remember.  And I will do what it takes to not let another soul go without knowing that somebody cared.

When life becomes so hard that somebody takes their own life, the blame game is easy to get into.

Blaming yourself for not caring enough.

Others saying they deserved it.

Blaming God for not caring enough to stop it.

Blaming yourself for not doing anything to stop it.

At first the emotion is numb.  You don’t know what to feel, you don’t know what to think… all you can do is soak in the shock.
If you’d only known… but how could you?

If you’d only seen… but seen what?

What was the last straw?  How many had there been before?

Why do people have to hurt each other so much?

It doesn’t matter now what happened, the point is it did.
What are you going to do to make sure it doesn’t happen again?

There is Love.  We must share it with those who hurt.
There is Hope.  We must give it to those longing for it.
There is always a way out.  Are you willing to be the one who will make a difference?

Jesus said, “There is no greater love than this, that a man would lay down his life for his friends.”
If you call each other friends, how can you lay down your life, so they don’t give up theirs.