“I want you to see Me when you look into the mirror,
That you’ll never be in doubt about who you are.
I want you to ask for more of Me,
There’s more of Me to go around infinitely many times over;
But there isn’t enough of you to have two masters;
There isn’t enough of you to seek Me with divided attention.
“Growth is a humbling experience, and pride is a symptom of immaturity. Let us grow in humility, because there’s no other way to truly grow. For as pride goes before a fall, so does humility go before a lifting.” – Makafui.
God has been good. I’m tempted to ‘say’, “All too soon…”, but no, it’s been a standard length year, like every other year. What always makes the difference are the great people we meet and the wonderful memories we make. It’s been a challenging year. Thank you for your prayers and support, they’re very much appreciated.
There was one who set out to write
About a journey without certain destination
Steps taken without established purpose –
Likened to the plight of a dry leaf
Tossed by winds into waiting flames
Transformed into floating embers,
Pregnant with unmitigated, undirected destruction.
“Come to Me, with all your cares and burdens;
I am able, and desire to give you rest from all shackles;
To take away the stained wrinkled rags that cloth with shame;
These chains you carry do not befit My bride.
Draw close to Me; Abide in My presence patiently;
I want to share secrets and mysteries with you;
Wait on me to receive all that I have for you,
Gifts I’d prepared since the foundations of the earth.
These are words I couldn’t share before,
Trapped in a growing earthen mould not yet equipped
To express the gravity of the thoughts that linger
And roam in the depths of this immortal soul.
I’ve seen things stranger than fiction
And heard things that cannot be put into words
I’ve taken steps falteringly, seemingly aimlessly
To a destination that couldn’t be surer.
Each night as we slept the tears flowed.
I can’t deny that it shows –
The pain we’ve been hiding.
How do we say goodbye?
I can ignore your feet on my table, darling;
But not the name you keep calling
Every night when you moan…groaning till waking, saying;
‘Ah, Adriel, my little baby…why won’t you come to Mummy?’