I'm going to post tonight whether or not my muse decides to visit.
First off, I love my dear friends Katie and Jane Ellen Brown.
Secondly, I know I can't feel what either of you are going through no matter how hard I try, but I love you and I'm praying for the both of you.
But...
Since I love you, I know what you're both going through. And since I know these things, I also know that what I say won't matter, no matter how prettily I say it, no matter how many tears I cry, and no matter how many times I repeat my mantra. But since I'm human and, well, I'm me, I'll probably keep going on with my loving; it's what I do. And whenever I know that my words aren't getting through to you, I'll repeat my mantra to myself and leave the rest to God.
Because I could say things till I'm blue in the face and it won't do any good.
I love you, Jane.
I love you, Kate.
I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always.
As long as I'm living, my sisters you'll be. <3
And... When pain hits and uncertainty plagues your minds and I've forgotten my mantra, God will whisper softly 'I love you.' When we've grown up and apart from eachother and I've forgotten what it feels like to stay up half the night pretending we're elves in our own little world, God will still be there whispering softly 'I remember.' And when all else fails, and I've forgotten all the little things in life we've experienced together--pain, sorrow, joy, and love--God will still be there whispering softly 'I'm here.' I'm just human. I can't make you feel what is in my words--though I'll try. I'm human, so I can't make the tears and pain and worry go away. So just in case I do forget, I'm posting this so you will remember.
I love you, Jane.
I love you, Kate.
I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always.
As long as I'm living, my sisters you'll be.
Goodnight, God.
15 November 2010
12 November 2010
\\ Ramblings of a Teenager //
I love music. It conveys every feeling that I can't put into words. I love books, because they put into words all the feelings I can't. I love art, because it puts into a physical substance the things that I can't speak aloud. Music, literature, and art.
Looking at the three of those together, I can almost smile. Thank God for them.
Goodnight, God.
<3
P.S.
I'm thinking about changing the name of my blog.
Any suggestions for this change-loving person?
Looking at the three of those together, I can almost smile. Thank God for them.
Goodnight, God.
<3
P.S.
I'm thinking about changing the name of my blog.
Any suggestions for this change-loving person?
. .:: The Christmas Spirit ::. .
Presents dressed in wrapping paper of gold and red lay under the tree, tempting the children who sit near to watch with wide innocent eyes. Watching them from one corner of the room, a soft smile creeps over my face; I realize their innocence and wonder, and envy it. I miss having what they have. I miss the feeling of joy and amazement at the stories of baby Jesus told to me when I was younger and the excitement of Christmas Eve. Even now, I can remember sitting up all night, wondering just what was inside the presents downstairs, till I caught myself thinking and berated my young mind for not thinking more of Jesus.
So as the lights reflect in their eyes, I sit by in silence, basking in the wonder of the children. My smile is bittersweet, my eyes glisten with tears that I quickly blink away. Rather than being sad, I want to remember this moment and cherish it. Thinking this, I turn my eyes to the tree. Like the presents, it is dressed up. Strands of ribbon weave ever upwards, encircling the tree in a brilliant array of colors. At the top, I can see the plain but beautiful bow my mother has placed with delicate care and the yellowed lights reflecting off the white ceiling. Fake though the branches are, they still hold memories, and so I love the tree.
No matter how many years pass , I know I'll still love Christmas. Memories fade and die away, their details ravaged by time, but the center of Christmas will still be there. Jesus. The essence of the Christmas season, he'll still be there. He's there in the smile of the children as they watch the balls on the tree. He's there as the smells of Christmas baking waft through the house and tease my nose. He's there whenever the melancholy feeling of age sets in. He's there on Christmas Eve when my family unwraps their pyjamas and slippers. He's there whenever I look at our artifical tree and laugh. He's there even when the snow is not. In Florida, in Los Angeles, in China, in England, in Africa.
No matter the place, no matter the time, and no matter the season, he's there. Jesus is the reason for the season.
I know it's early and all, but the idea popped into my head, and I wrote.
<3
Hello God. ^-^
So as the lights reflect in their eyes, I sit by in silence, basking in the wonder of the children. My smile is bittersweet, my eyes glisten with tears that I quickly blink away. Rather than being sad, I want to remember this moment and cherish it. Thinking this, I turn my eyes to the tree. Like the presents, it is dressed up. Strands of ribbon weave ever upwards, encircling the tree in a brilliant array of colors. At the top, I can see the plain but beautiful bow my mother has placed with delicate care and the yellowed lights reflecting off the white ceiling. Fake though the branches are, they still hold memories, and so I love the tree.
No matter how many years pass , I know I'll still love Christmas. Memories fade and die away, their details ravaged by time, but the center of Christmas will still be there. Jesus. The essence of the Christmas season, he'll still be there. He's there in the smile of the children as they watch the balls on the tree. He's there as the smells of Christmas baking waft through the house and tease my nose. He's there whenever the melancholy feeling of age sets in. He's there on Christmas Eve when my family unwraps their pyjamas and slippers. He's there whenever I look at our artifical tree and laugh. He's there even when the snow is not. In Florida, in Los Angeles, in China, in England, in Africa.
No matter the place, no matter the time, and no matter the season, he's there. Jesus is the reason for the season.
I know it's early and all, but the idea popped into my head, and I wrote.
<3
Hello God. ^-^
04 November 2010
--> Around the World in One Post <--
Oh how I love it when the little red strip of mercury--or whatever chemical they use today--begins to drop centimeter by centimeter. Sure, we live in Florida and it never really gets cold, but you won't find me complaining as winter draws near. I, for one, am perfectly happy and pleasantly suprised when the cold begins to set it; I, for one, welcome the cold and chill while wearing short sleeves and shorts throughout the winter; and I, for one, wish that it would stay cold all year round, however futile that wish may be.
Since summer was put in place by God, however, I'll stop being selfish and say that he must have loved my mother more than me, because summer in this state is the very bane of my existence... Okay, he doesn't love her more than me, he simply gives her half of the year while I have to suffer with the other half.
Ahem.
As I was saying--Cold.
I love it and I love the Christmas season, but wish that there was less homework to deal with...
It's kind of like having to do homework on a Sunday, WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR DAY OF REST!? If I ruled the world, we would all have a siesta in the middle of the day, like some cultures, and that would solve all our problems. Plain colored socks would be banned. They would then be replaced by the socks of many colors and everyone would have fifteen furry blankets and ten pillows each, that is all.
No, wait, I take that back. I have one more thing I need to add...
Chapstick. Now, I'm done with my endless rant.
"How come the dove gets to be the peace symbol? How about the pillow? It has more feathers than the dove, and it doesn't have that dangerous beak." (--I concur.)
"One good turn gets most of the blanket." (--Again, I concur.)
"Choose your friends by their character and your socks by their color."
Goodnight, God.
P.S.
I love you. <3
Since summer was put in place by God, however, I'll stop being selfish and say that he must have loved my mother more than me, because summer in this state is the very bane of my existence... Okay, he doesn't love her more than me, he simply gives her half of the year while I have to suffer with the other half.
Ahem.
As I was saying--Cold.
I love it and I love the Christmas season, but wish that there was less homework to deal with...
It's kind of like having to do homework on a Sunday, WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR DAY OF REST!? If I ruled the world, we would all have a siesta in the middle of the day, like some cultures, and that would solve all our problems. Plain colored socks would be banned. They would then be replaced by the socks of many colors and everyone would have fifteen furry blankets and ten pillows each, that is all.
No, wait, I take that back. I have one more thing I need to add...
Chapstick. Now, I'm done with my endless rant.
"How come the dove gets to be the peace symbol? How about the pillow? It has more feathers than the dove, and it doesn't have that dangerous beak." (--I concur.)
"One good turn gets most of the blanket." (--Again, I concur.)
"Choose your friends by their character and your socks by their color."
Goodnight, God.
P.S.
I love you. <3
02 November 2010
. .:: Through Sickness and Health ::. .
Obvious statement of the day? School is pretty lame sometimes.
Since I haven't been writing on here lately--and since I also realize that my list of readers is comprised of my mother, grandmother, and dearest Jane--I decided that I ought to post 'something,' regardless of how akin my speaking is to a rant. With that in mind, I hope you won't judge me or press charges for boredom when you read the following message. ^^
Well to start with, sickness has once again darkened the door of the Keicher household... Or the Blackmon's doorstep, respectively. Butanyway, as I was saying. My two younger sisters, my mother, and whomever thinks they're currently ailing are feeling horrible. That being said, things have been getting a bit hectic lately. Yet to this moment, I still can't decide which was worse, me getting to work and my hair appointment today or Halloween. Now that I've stopped to think about it, however, I think that the two events are close enough in hectictivity--yes, I just made that word up--to settle for a nice tie.
Now, on the subject of our late diet. Mahtzo-ball soup with a side of watermelon and/or fries, and a nice hydrating glass of water to top things off sound just about right. But since it's nearing midnight and I have a painting class tomorrow, I must bid my small audience adieu.
Goodnight, God.
Since I haven't been writing on here lately--and since I also realize that my list of readers is comprised of my mother, grandmother, and dearest Jane--I decided that I ought to post 'something,' regardless of how akin my speaking is to a rant. With that in mind, I hope you won't judge me or press charges for boredom when you read the following message. ^^
Well to start with, sickness has once again darkened the door of the Keicher household... Or the Blackmon's doorstep, respectively. Butanyway, as I was saying. My two younger sisters, my mother, and whomever thinks they're currently ailing are feeling horrible. That being said, things have been getting a bit hectic lately. Yet to this moment, I still can't decide which was worse, me getting to work and my hair appointment today or Halloween. Now that I've stopped to think about it, however, I think that the two events are close enough in hectictivity--yes, I just made that word up--to settle for a nice tie.
Now, on the subject of our late diet. Mahtzo-ball soup with a side of watermelon and/or fries, and a nice hydrating glass of water to top things off sound just about right. But since it's nearing midnight and I have a painting class tomorrow, I must bid my small audience adieu.
Goodnight, God.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)