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"Some hearts, like evening primroses, open more beautifully in the shadows of life"
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Obsessionofthemoment.
Kristene Mueller - St. Francis
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Its a hundred years since we've met,--it may be another hundred before we meet again" Edith Wharton
...life is more fiction than fiction itself.-Azir Nafisi
".
What is My Purpose?
Saturday. 5.8.10
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Kevin.
5.5.10
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Awake
Thursday. 4.22.10 12:50 am
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Tuesday. 2.23.10 7:50 pm
i dont know why i do the things i do now. none of it makes sense but yet i do know i need Him and im not willing to let this world change that need. even unto my shock, even when it does mean losing some of the greatest parts of my life.



i know in truth your faithfulness, your promises, your love for me and i stand to them today, ready to believe in them ready to partaken in them fully because they are all i have today. Your strength, your comfort, your protection, my sun and my shield, take part in my life now more than ever and bring glory to Your name. your daughter needs you.

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He bottles our tears
Saturday. 1.23.10 8:31 pm
theres been a deep well inside of my life for quite
some time now thats been running dry. full of
disappointment, fear, and isolation, I’ve never gone
near it, too afraid to discover what could be laying
deep within after all these years of neglect

and abandonment. I've been able to get on
by without this well, searched the nearest places in
my lifetime for some provision of water. and
provision i found.

i thought I’d found the answer to all my needs,
perfected all the cracks and edges of my life. Created
some theories, some advice, wise words to live by.
But i never laughed, i lived through time wary of
everything. I thought i found God, i had first heard
of Him, rejected him, drew closer to Him, heard
Him, prayed to Him, and relied on Him. I wasn't
ready to drop my valuables in my hand in order to
take only His. But then i did, because i was tired of
an emotional life that rode between the worst and
the good.

And so He showed me the well. He let me
hear the sound of its emptiness with my own tears.

Love.
There’s a power behind our words that i have only
recently discovered. It was like learning language all
over again. I have graduated school, had my share of
heartaches and laughter, written well on exams and
essay but to grasp the meaning behind a few words i
have never truly learned.

Father.
To speak it in english. no problem, to hear it,
okay. Its something i'd become accustomed to,
explained plenty of times in my lifetime as questions
came up about my family. The role of the word in
society, no problem. I'd cross examined it plenty of
times in my classes.

父親. 愛
and in chinese? Its a side of me i learned to push
aside as irrelevant in years of american society. I had
never possessed much of my cultural inheritance, it
was a part of my life that was just not relevant.

and then to hear 我的父親愛我,
i stil get shivers hearing that repeated in my own
head and from my own lips. The more He told me,
the more i wept, the greater i laughed.

The first few drops down the well, were painful to
hear. it only reminded me of the emptiness it held,
of the lack, the thirst and desperation inside my
mouth and my heart. for water.

for a father.

Then something broke. The well was cracked, the
well was useless, it was only a shell, an opening for
the water. And out came living water, endless,
limitless, streaming, pouring over and into me joy,
relief, and peace.

- His daughter

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divine plan
17of decembermoods
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