On Prayer

I'm sitting at my desk, comfort songs playing from my speakers, as darkness tries to push its way into my room. I should, probably, log off my computer and curl up with a notebook and pencil and write something, but something tugs at the back of my mind. No. I won't get off yet. I need to write something, not anything, but something. I've read through the posts of the blogs I keep up with, and one whispered in my ear. I have no idea what it whispered, just that I must write. The blog was My Faith Journey. I need to write out some of my thoughts, and my journal isn't where this needs to be right now.

I am me. I'm not special, I'm not particularly pretty, I procrastinate far too often, and I don't have one specific talent, one specific gift, but you know what? I can make a difference. I can be the difference. I'm not talking about in the lives of others, although that is important. I mean the difference in my own life, my own world. It's not much, but it's a start.

I don't have complete control over what happens in my life. There is no way for me to completely eliminate the falls I take, but I can stand back up, with help. Every single time I fall, Christ is there to lift me up. All I have to do is turn to him and ask for help. We often forget that prayer is so needed, so important to our spiritual lives, even though much of the music we listen to (okay, that I listen to) reminds us.

"When your heart breaks, He'll hurt for you. Dreams are out of reach, He'll pull you through. When you lose hope all you gotta do is get on your knees again."
Newsboys, On Your Knees

"Oh I'm on my knees, so I'm on my knees. It's a battle that we can fight."
Manic Drive, Mountains

" 'Cause I'm on my knees, begging You to turn to me! I'm on my knees. Father, will You run to me?"
Tenth Avenue North, Hold My Heart

But it's not just in music and Christian literature that we find reminders that prayer is how we reach out and ask the Lord for help, it's all over the Bible. I really like Psalm 142.

1 I cry aloud to the Lord; 

I lift my voice to the Lord for mercy. 

2 I pour my complaint before him; 

before him I tell all my trouble. 

3 When my spirit grows faint within me, 

it is you who know my way. 

In the path where I walk 

men have hidden a snare for me. 

4 Look to my right and see; 

no one is concerned for me. 

I have no refuge; 

no one cares for my life. 

5 I cry to you, O Lord; 

I say, "You are my refuge, 

my portion in the land of the living." 

6 Listen to my cry, 

for I am in desperate need; 

rescue me from those who pursue me, 

for they are too strong for me. 

7 Set me free from my prison, 

that I may praise your name. 

Then the righteous will gather about me 

because of your goodness to me.

It really strikes a cord in me. David knew how hard it was. A lot of the time, we just read through the Bible and think that he had a perfect life, but this really shows that sometimes he felt alone and unnoticed. I have several Jr. High/High school journal entries that echo verse four, and I honestly believe that we have all had times like that, but then we have verse five. It's a surge of strength. Here David turns to God to lift him up and hold him, which is what we all need to remember is one of the wisest things we can do.

There you go. When you feel like giving up, falling down in tears, turn to the constant, to God. It actually helps to do that before the tears part too.

Remember: He has a plan, and He loves you.

Merry-Go-Round

I stand a few yards to the side, watching. The other third graders are going around and around and around. It's a merry-go-round, and I've never been on one. Maybe when I was younger, but if that is the case, I had been too young to remember. The spinning metal structure slows, and my friend jumps off. Eventually, she convinces me to get on. The world whirls around me as the chant pounds in my head, called out by many voices.

"Faster! Faster! We need another master!"

It slows again, and I move to get off, too slow. Before my weight is fully off, the merry-go-round jerks back to life, and I tumble to the ground. Small gravel rocks cling to me, pressed into my exposed skin, as I push myself up. My friend jumps off and hurries to me as the others continue to spin and spin and spin.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm good," I mutter, swiping at the yellow-orange dirt on my clothes. My knees are a little scraped, but they seem fine.

My friend takes me in with a quick glance, "Let's see if we can go to the nurse."

"I'm fine." I glance back down at my knees. There's no blood, even if they sting a little now. They're fine.

She gives me a look and takes my wrist, gently pulling me across the playground, away from the continually turning merry-go-round. Our teacher looks at me and says to go ahead inside. Confused, my knees receive a third look. There certainly is a fair amount of blood now.

Many years later...

Curled up in pajama pants, I trace the outline of a faint scar on my left knee, and I remember. I remember its story.

An Update On Your Blogger

Hello. I haven't really given you a proper blog post for a while. You can blame Pinterest. It is the ultimate procrastination tool, even when one does not intend for it to be. I really need to write more.

My sister recently put Red's album Release the Panic on my MP3 player, so occasionally as I write this I'm mouthing the words and dancing a little. Don't laugh at me, you do it with your music sometimes too.

This last week, I have been slightly ill. It's just a lot of snot, so I went ahead and suffered through work. A lot of tissues have been sacrificed, but I am breathing through my nose more often and actually sleeping through the night now. It helps to have kitties to cuddle, but not so much so when their fur gets up my nose.

Soo... It really looks like I'm not giving you a proper post today either. I'm sorry. I'll try to work on a short story, poem, or letter for you guys.

Post Script: Who would google "ode to celery"? I just noticed that that has happened a few times, but I guess I really shouldn't find that so odd, considering that I wrote one.

Have a good week!

Good-Night Moon, Good Morning Spider

The summer before last, I became very good at sleeping for twelve hours. When I woke up, I would lay there and look at the Lady of Shed-lots. She has always been my bossy, little guardian. When I went to bed each night, and the blankets settled on my legs, triggering thoughts of spiders crawling around on me, she would be there next to me, giving me a look that clearly said I was imagining it. She gave me a sense of safety.

One morning I woke up as I always did, but a few moments after I opened my eyes, I felt something. It was most definitely not the settling of blankets. I could feel the fall of several individual little legs on my left thigh. I froze, except for my heart, which inevitably quickened its pace. My arms were outside the covers, and I cupped one hand over the spider, keeping the blanket between it and my hand. It couldn't run away now. Arachnid and human stayed still, so that, for a moment, I wondered if it was really there, but no. The feeling it's legs coming down on my skin had been far too real. Beside me on the bed, was the Lady of Shed-lots. I felt a pang of betrayal as she gave me the same look as always. She was supposed to protect me! Although, in truth, a cat outside the blankets could be of little effect against a spider under the blankets.

Without much reason, I somehow made a quick movement and ended up out of the bed, whilst leaving the spider behind. I grabbed something, threw back the covers, and smashed the little abomination. Within my memory, those last two sentences are a swift blur, but the moments leading up to it, an eternity. I picked up the remains in a tissue and dropped it in the trash. I went to my mother and told her what had happened. I'm not sure if she really believed me at first, especially since when she asked what kind it was, I was unable to tell her. I left and returned a few minutes later, with the dead spider bits in tissue. She identified it as a brown recluse, and it had been a rather big one, before it was rendered in the two dimensional.

By all reason that spider should have bitten me. It should have bitten me when I trapped it on top of my vulnerable skin. It should have bitten me when I was asleep. That night I had gone to bed in a night gown. What if it had been on my leg, and I was in full pants? What is the probability that I would go to bed in the only sleepwear that this could have happened with? The only reason I have ever been able to come up with is the only reason I will ever need. It wasn't in God's plan for a brow recluse to bite me on the thigh that morning. As the lions did not harm Daniel, the spider did not harm me. For some reason, He wanted to scare me, and putting a spider in the bed with me was a pretty good way to do that. He kept that spider from biting me, just as He put it there. Things have changed a little because of that too. I tuck in one side of my covers under the mattress so that the blankets don't touch the floor to provide easy access for spiders, and I don't trust the Lady of Shed-lots to keep me safe anymore. His plan is a mystery to me, but I'll continue to trust in him.

The College Kid

I have recently come across a conversation I had had with my sister, after her first visit home from college. I had jotted it down in a notebook.

My sister: I want real food.

Me: Well, there's meat thawing, but...

My sister: Cheez-Its.....

Me: That's not real food.

My sister: Cheez-Its.....