His Unfailling Love, Explained

These three posts are about my relationship with the Lord and all that he is working in my heart. I will never be a poet so as this is read, keep in mind these are only thoughts poured out. Also, they're meant to go from His Unfailing Love then Part Two, then Part Three. However, they are not in that order as you scroll down this page.

His Love Is Unfailing, Part Three

Why must you restore hope?
I would rather risk living without hope.
Is there anything more heart-breaking
than hope left unanswered by it's desire?

Why do I matter to you?
My soul is but one,
Can you not give the others this love?
This care and devotion is breaking me.

You're melting down my walls,
climbing over my defenses,
You are calling this heart a beauty,
Would you really tell her she's worth fighting for?

If hope is not birthed for that occasion,
then it never has to suffer the bitter letdown.
Will you not take my love,
and let me alone?

His Love Is Unfailing, Part Two.

Why must you love me?
I am content with a love unrequited.
You give me everything,
I don't need this.

I know you love me,
why must you show it?
Why must you be so blatant?
Why are you doing this to me?

You are not being sensible.
I freely give my love,
I expect nothing in return,
must you show it?

This love makes me vunerable.
This love means I have to accept it.
Just let me love, don't give it back.
This love makes me feel.

I don't know if I can.
this vunerable place
means pieces of me
must come awake.

His Love Is Unfailing.

My heart is weighed down.
My soul is overwhelmed.
A bright and glorious day,
Now overshadowed with a heavy presence.

Diana, what have I done?
Diana, what has happened?
This is not what it seems!
Still in innocence, still in grace,
Bearing yet a mighty weight.

I cannot see, I cannot tell,
The depth of this troubling well.
Waters clear and calm,
Your purest springs do here belong.

I thought these finest waters,
Would give me an answer.
I gave you my burdens,
I surrendered all,
This is not what I expected.

Broken and open,
Shattered so that I might grow.
I thought this healing would be different.
Where did my security go?

On open waters do I walk,
Closed eyes, clenched fists.
I don't understand why I am here,
I don't understand why this is happening.

Why now, why at this time?
Cannot this wait, this is much too tender.
I don't want to explore that part
Leave it alone, don't disturb my heart.

Can you not see,
I am content behind these walls!
Leave it alone! Why must you
Delve into the innermost parts?

I never asked for this,
I never checked this option.
Yet you do not care.
Why must you love me?

Last of a dying breed.

I feel the need to write something and I have an idea of what it is, but it's something so deep I'm not sure I can bring it to surface but I need to so it can breathe.

Do you ever wonder why you were made the way you are? Why do certain things bring life to you and why do you turn from others? Do you ever wonder why some things just capture you and others you could care less about? For some it's just who they are and they never question. Typically that is my response but for this one idiosyncracy I cannot help but question all the time. Why, I always wonder, do I care about this?

I care about military history. Nothing can enrapture me and bring me to tears as quickly as a discussion about the World Wars. I pride myself on not being a crier and for maintaining a "stiff upper lip," concerning just about anything. My horses die and that's a fact of life, grandparents and childhood friends pass away and I rejoice in the knowledege that I'll get to see them later. My dearest friends move away and I am nothing but truly delighted for them. Yet nothing breaks my heart like old war movies, be they fiction or not, books, radio broadcasts, museums, battlefields, and monuments. Oh many people find me crazy enough for being a girl and into military history and they can mock and jeer as they please. It's who I am. There is something in my heart that stirs, a combination of mourning and pride, honor and understanding, and a deep deep knowledge of loss. All those boys. So many, so very very many, did not come home. So many were called to do things we'll never even imagine ourselves capable of doing, be it in self-defense or in selflessness. What have we ever had to do that was even remotely as challenging as so many of those soldiers faced? I know my history and I know that not every soldier faced a trial or tribulation that would be note-worthy, but they served, didn't they?

There's no explaining it properly. I'm probably going to end up contradicting myself somewhere here. I am just so filled with sorrow that we're never going to know the trust cost of sending out all those solders to fight. It is probably better that I don't know, it might burden me more. But what I do want to know is why it burdens me even now. Why do I care about what happened 60 years ago, why do I care that we'll never get to hear every single story about what happened? Why do I care? Why do I want to care? Why do I feel the need to care? None of this makes sense and I'm even more confused then when I started. Darnit.

KISSMYB

How's that for a license plate? Or "SWEET B" is a good one too. I'll probably go with the latter but I do admit the former brings giggles of mischievous delight.

My story begins at 5 am and ends not before 11pm. I slept nary a wink last night, and then fitfully at best, getting up at 5am merely because I could not stay in bed a minute longer! I even made coffee to whittle away the time, as if I even needed a drop of caffeine. Then Pops picked me up at 6 am and we headed out to good ole' Springfield, Illinois, a whopping 397 miles/6.75 hours away. For about the first ohh....1.5 hours, I chattered non-stop. I think I bounced around several hundred conversations while my father sat there, dazed and confused by this tasmanian she-devil whirling about in a fury of conversation. Then as soon as the fountain of speech burst forth, it stopped. Yes, I crashed. All of the sudden speech become slow and slurred and my head slowly drooped down and I actually fell asleep. Actual time from last word spoken to moment of sleep was probably about the same time it takes to turn a light switch off.

Then my loving father kindly wakes me up and says "Hey, your turn." Nice. So I drove from somewhere outside of Dayton (heck yes, I didn't even make it out of Ohio before going comatose) all the way to Springfield. I would just like to throw out that IL and IN are f-l-a-t. I think this poem/ballad I wrote catches the gist of it all. While Pops slept through this monotony of terra firma, I struck up quite the catchy tune. Ever listen to people who hum along to their ipod, emitting sounds that seem not to correspond whatsoever? Yes, this was me but with lyrics. Laugh away but I am not ashamed. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Flat farmland everywhere
Not a hill to spare
I hate this flat farmland
Flat farmland everywhere. (repeat as many times as it takes until you are out of the flat farmland)

I know I know, it's platinum stuff. Just remember, strife brings genius (and I totally made that saying up --they should seriously look into using my song and the flat farmland as a new form of water torture)

So we get to Springfield (and I totally got to see Abraham Lincoln's Presidential Library (emit veloceraptor-like screech of joy)) and make our way over to the U-Haul joint- where we find out in short order that our electrical hookup for the auto transport is not the correct one, our receiver won't come out of the hitch in order to put in the receiver with the ball, and the ball is too big. Now is the time where I sing the praises of both Fathers. Heavenly one for orchestrating all of this and earthly one for being my earthly hero. He went out, bought an electrical adapter, wailed on the receiver with a hammer and WD-40 for a good solid 15 minutes, and got the trailer hitch to fit the receiver. He's pretty much amazing. OO, and while he was out performing these great feats, I got to watch the 40th fighter squadron (don't quite me on the squadron part) out performing their own great feats...(acrobatic that is).

We get to the seller's house (who has been ever so gracious in waiting for us) and find out that he's a pretty super guy. With me behind the wheel, he and my father guide (more like get a running start and push with all their might) the car up onto the auto transport. No, they didn't do it for fun, the battery had died, sheesh. We fill out the title information, say our goodbyes and scoot on outta Dodge. Actually though, Springfield has a very "yesteryear" feel about it and for the couple hours we were there, it was quite nice. Thanks to the o-so-sweet staff at the IL DMV (I'm sure there were some sweet staff there, they must just hide far far away from the front), we had all the title information correct and could actually commence "scooting outta Dodge."

7 hours, 397 miles, 1 new battery, and thousands of veloceraptor-like screeches of delight later, we arrive back in Columbus. Entering it just as we had left it, in the dark. I would just like to say this has been 800 miles and 18 hours that I will always remember and treasure for the rest of my life. Thanks Pops! (Did I mention my MGB is the hottest thing on this planet? Scarlet exterior with silver (grey) trim and and a rocking black leather interior. H-o-t. The size is something I'm going to have to get over though, it's about the size of a miata which is something I've never encountered before in driving. I learned to drive a suburban and horse trailer get-up before a 4 door car so I'm looking forward to this new challenge. And some sleep.

night.

Paradise, for a split second.

A couple nights ago I came to the realization that I do not know enough about my Lord. I mean, I know about him, I know of him, I know he is good and true and his love is unfailing. I know he desires the best for us and I know he loves me unconditionally. But I just don't know enough. So I opened the good ol' Book of Life and decided I would start at the beginning and go from there. Don't get me wrong, I've read the Bible through and through but only with the intent of knowing more about the Bible and for gaining more wisdom and knowledge. Yet that is what has brought me to this point. The knowledge I have of the Lord and the love I have for him need more. I need to know more about my Lord. Right, got that covered. Onward we go.

As I read through Genesis 1 and 2, my heart was struck with the beauty and intention of creation. Everything was perfect and created in perfect order. A more beautiful love story cannot be found! Everything was taken care of, even Adam. He lived in paradise with the woman of his dreams. Together they lived in perfect harmony and communion with the Lord. Isn't that what we strive for every day? And we only get a glimpse of that which they experienced. It is beautiful though, how deep within us is this call to return to our paradise. Deep within us is this knowledge that this is not our home. We belong somewhere else. Not just somewhere else but true paradise. Back to the text. I love how Eve is made out of his rib. It's so fitting! Right there at his side, right there even with him. It's genius! Then my heart sank; I knew what was going to happen next and I didn't want it to happen. I didn't want this perfect glory to end. Deep inside I cringed and begged God "just this once, please just this once, let it be a bad dream." Never before have I read this and felt such anguish and heaviness come over my heart. Funny though, for a split second I felt as though if my heart were so burdened and my soul so heavy, God would hear my cry and I would look down and there would be no Fall. It's true. Didn't happen though. Going onward wasn't an option now; I couldn't read the tragedy and I just closed the cover and turned off the light.

Dream on!

Ever wish you had a younger sibling to "pal around" with? Ever wish you could be that great protector of the younglings? Ever wish you could be the Jedi Master teaching the Padwan? Snap out of fantasy land my friends and into the great reality of older-child-hood. (not word, I know). During a conversation I thought of some realistic situations that one might want to mull over before begging their parents to reconsider birth control or adoption.

Top reasons why you don't want a younger sibling:

Changing diapers
Spit-up
Screaming shrilly when a toy is taken away
Screaming shrilly when hungry
Screaming shrilly when they need a diaper change
Screaming shrilly when not getting attention
Screaming shrilly for the heck of it
Taking up half the bed in the middle of the night
Taking up half the bed in the middle of the night and laying with their feet in your face. (to which you wake up)
Flushing the toilet when you're taking a shower (or dumping cold water over the top)
Repeatably banging pots and pans together (which is definitely not cute after the age of 4)
Taking over an entire house because it is their battleground (only cute when your sister is not screaming because she gets the sword and not the gun)
Taking over the TV for hours at a time
Screaming at each other when someone realizes that the other sibling has had the TV for hours.
Car rides.

Now because I do have younger siblings (in case you missed the hints) here are some great reasons for being an older sibling:

Snuggling together when watching a movie.
Holding their hand.
Holding them when they're scared.
Getting kissed on the cheek.
Throwing the football.
Having girl-time (painting your nails, facial masks, crazy hairstyles)
Standing up for them.
Taking the blame for starting the fight.
Chasing them around the house (inside and out)
Kissing their boo-boos
Laying the grass and looking at the clouds.
Pretending like you're driving like a bat outta Hades when they ask you to go "Warp-Speed."
Playing "Battlefield" outside and having to be the Axis powers (you always want them to be the good guys)
Tickling/wrestling fights that go on until mom yells.
Scaring the begeebees outta them and then them doing that to you.
Ganging up on the parents all together.
Picking out The Christmas Tree. Lots of yelling about who's tree is best but when it's all said and done, there's nothing like hot cider and popcorn to make everything better.
Reading them stories at night.
Singing songs together to annoy another sibling.
Snowball fights!
Sledding in the dark.
Car race video games. I never win but the crashes are stupendous enough to throw the other sib off track.
Medal of Honor ps2 games. I always get killed but I have to admire my little brothers sweet sniper skills.
Chasing them around on dirt-bikes. My sibs amaze me.
Horseback riding together. Bonanza's got nothin'.

Ok, that's it for now. ciao!

How do I love thee!

Gil Grissom, on the off chance you are sitting at home browsing through the millions of blogs on the internet, please read this. You're my hero. Thank you for being my voice today. I would love to quote you verbatim but the shock and awe was to great for my little brain to record and so I can only paraphrase. "Our culture today says everything is permissible and everything is beneficial." Score one for some semblance of morality in our TV programs!

http://www.cbs.com/primetime/csi/

P.s. yes, I know Gil Grissom is a TV character. I know.

Fear, you shall not pass!

He doesn't love us for who we are but because of Who He Is.

Fear drives men (as in mankind, not only males). Someone once pointed out that when someone is under the influence of alcohol, that person is the "real" person. I would like to argue that point. I think alcohol/drunkenness only illuminates the fear and insecurities someone hides when possible. Think about it. How many girls are insecure and have low self-esteem? Get them intoxicated and they're hitting on every guy around. Same goes for guys. What about the normally shy person who comes just because? Get some drinks in them and who's the life of the party now? What about the guy whose girlfriend cheated on him with another man? Let the alcohol flow and you'll soon have front row seats for a big confrontation. You could see catfights too!
The person who pointed out that drunks/intoxicated people are the "real" person meant that all people should act as they are when inebriated. How cruel! These people only act as such because deep within them lies some wound that has been scarred over but never healed. No one wants to act as they are when intoxicated! How many people wake up the next day and wish what happened hadn't? How many people are embarrased for what went on? Won't their embarrasment and regret scratch open those wounds and keep them from being healed? The Enemy of our souls is fighting to keep our hearts as far from the Balm of Gilead as possible and he will use every tactic he can. Fear being the greatest weapon of all, second being the exploitation of that fear. Do you ever look into the eyes of the person next to you and see nothing? Do you look into someone's eyes and see life? See pain? Hurt may be just a feeling but it can be expressed. It could be easy to think "just avoid the pain, just avoid the circumstance, just protect myself," but that is just preserving the wound! In order for complete healing to take place, light must shine on that wound. It must be exposed to the Healer in order for Him to knit it up! Don't run, don't hide, let His Light find you!

It's October o' weather dear!

My Wednesday was supposed to culminate with a wonderful evening at the Fair watching gianormous combines duke it out in front of the Grandstand. Instead I spent it huddled in a basement glued to the TV screen watching the radar make its sweeps around a brightly lit-up-in-red Fairfield County. Thank you Mr. Funnel Cloud. It's 50F outside and we're been interrupted by your good ol'neighborly tornado. Grrr! I've been looking forward to this for a year, A Whole Stinkin' Year! Do you know how fun it is to watch those behemoths ram into each other and chase each other around, all the while using only three wheels? (They typically lose one in the first 15min) Everything is in slow motion and each "BAM!" is spectacular. There's usually a fire of some kind but our FD is right there to take care of it. Not this year. For the second Wednesday in a row, I have been cornered and caged by tornadoes. Why not jazz it up a bit and come in on a Tuesday or a Thursday? Who wants seconds? What tornado ever got its infamy from coming in on the same day as another? BE ORIGINAL. I must say that starting around 5pm, I began to feel as though I would not be watching a Derby today. I called Mom, Dad, and brother Caleb to recheck the day and still I felt as though I would not be watching it. Once again, I am right. Or at least my "womanly intuition," has it together. Grrr!

On a May Morning

Deliberate in my decision, I have decided to create a blog where anyone can leave a comment. I shall soon commence with posting.