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Monday, September 12, 2005
the broken heart of glass  She stared at the heart shaped glass ornament she held delicately on her palm, carefully balancing it’s weight. She remembered how smooth the surface was, and the glass was so clear and pure that it made the heart look almost transparent. She reminisce the beautiful refracted rays of the sunlight when it passed through the translucent shell. There must be something really special inside, to make all things that pass through it so breathtaking. The heart of glass did not stay that way forever, sometimes people that she met will leave a dent here and a scratch there, some accidentally, some intentionally. There were many times where she was careless enough to damage it as well. Slowly the heart of glass was not as beautiful as it used to be, it started to have finger prints and stains, permanent scars like cracks and grazes materialized. It hurts to see her once pure and beautiful heart so… used. Still, she tried hard to remain optimistic, at least she still have her treasured possession with her. Or so, she perceived. Until one day, Someone, somehow Made her drop it. The glass heart as if in slow motion, left the grasp of her hands and started to spiral downwards. Very quickly. Too quickly. She reached down, as swiftly as possible to catch the falling heart. The sound of glass shattering cut through the silent of the night Penetrates the false tranquility of her soul, Piercing it with such force that the pain send Waves upon waves of anguish in her. Dropping to her knees, she started to pick up what was left of her heart, trying frantically to recover what was already broken. In her haste, she never noticed blood trickling through her palm as she held the shattered pieces in her hand tightly, in fear that she would drop it once again. Unknown to her, Someone saw. He saw every hurt and wound from the very beginning, He could tell which scar hurts the most and recall every bent and scratch on the heart. He knew, He understood. He went to her, her with the broken heart. He started to open her tightly clenched fist, tears streamed down His face as He saw cuts and wounds embedded with tiny and large glass pieces, blood oozing out and trickling down her palm. He started picking out the glass from her wounds with His own hands, as He did, He began to bleed as well. She started at the stranger that felt so familiar to her, She wondered whether He understood the pain, whether He knew what it felt like to pick up the broken pieces of life and summoning enough courage to carry on. Until she saw the holes, pierced through His palms. Until she saw the cuts on His forehead, Until she realized the scars He bore on His back. All endured so that she could come to Him and ask Him to mend her heart. The last glass was removed from her palm and the wounds were completely healed. Gently, He took her hand into His and taught her His love for her that will never be broken, contaminated or dirty. He gave her His heart of flesh. She understood that there is no longer the need carry a heart of glass with her, as His love for her was already engraved in her soul.  Thursday, June 09, 2005
One Last Breath She was at a point in her life where every breath she took was precious, so precious that each time she exhaled, they would watch in fear knowing that there was a large, large possibility that it could be her very last. He sat by her side, watching her silently. Her face, though pale, shone with a certain glow of serenity, a peace with an understanding only the Giver and she the receiver could ever grasp. He comprehends not, nothing of this situation, other than seeing it as the biggest hurdle ever placed in his path. Given the choice he'd curse the very hand which struck her down to such unnerving condition. If dug deep enough, the pits of his heart would show evidences of hatred and anger dwelling; a wrath for the Hand which refused to pick her up from the realms of the undead. A wrath so sinful, so unholy, so short sighted. Yet he knows that this was the path she chose, to honour the One she claimed to have lived her life for. He had nothing but compliance to express his undying love for her. The ever trite, ever cliched phrase rang in his head, beating the sides of his temple like a pendulum. If you love her, let her go. He stared at her eyes; they looked beautiful albeit the fact that her lids were tightly sealed with the curse of a deep, deep sleep. Her eyelashes curled with a flair so profound, so beautiful that he could almost kiss her lips and the lids which her beautiful eyes hid within would flutter open and gaze into his. She has not done that for a long time now. He contemplated on the decision he made which started this whole issue, one he thought was right for her...one which destroyed her to the degree of unwaking death. Staring at the eyes hidden behind delicate lids he cursed himself for being such an inane person, and swore that he would crucify himself for the fact that he might never gaze into her deep hazel eyes anymore. He prayed about the decision. Yet was this what the good Lord wanted to happen? Isabelle, the sweet, sweet love of his life. Ever so fragile, so tender, so delicate. So... lifeless. The machine, cold and emotionless, beeped softly to the beats of her frail heart. Slightest disturbance, the experts said, would provoke her fragility and be of nothing but no good to her. He questioned not the credibility of the doctors' warnings, but the one thing he doubted was the faith he had in the Healer Himself. When will He descend His touch from Above, and wake her up from this curse? Or rather... will He? "You are all I have, Isabelle. Please don't go," he pleaded. He placed his hand on hers, warm and soft. She's thinned so much, he thought. I could almost feel her bones. And as if a spark flew from the moment their skin got in contact, she took an unexpected deep breath, one so sudden and abrupt that it made him jump right out of his skin. He stared at her, bewildered, not knowing what to do. She exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. She was grasping for air. Or so he thought. The serenity and peace which were written all over her face a moment ago, like a crystal vase falling off its mantel piece, broke out into chaos and shattered away into a chasm of nothingness. The once emotionless machine was now beeping with wratch and fury. That was enough to push all his panic buttons. Jacques let out an exasperated yell and scrambled out of the room in search for a doctor. (To be continued) Thursday, April 14, 2005
The Blue Skylark She spoke of a gray, gray evening. Her hair was disheveled, unkempt; her skin scarlet red in the cold, cold air; her eyes sparkling blue, twinkling in the evening sun hidden in the mist. She spoke of a gray, gray evening. Rachaelle once told me of a blue skylark, soaring in the skies of Swansea, singing its song of life. She spoke of its voice, melodiously imbuing novelty in her sightless soul, engendering hope and bringing forth a burst of life in the midst of all darkness and obscurities. Yet now she speaks of a gray, gray evening. That distant look in her eyes, longing for that love she was denied, ever so forlorn and flustered, tears welling up in her lower eyelids like dams, her brows furrowing at the words that she speak, her heart aggrieved at this despondency she never knew of. Deplorable. Melancholy. Crestfallen. Miserable. She was on the stage of Fame for as long as she could remember. Her eyes twinkling to the sight of Popularity, Esteem waving at her, with Reputation bowing down in her presence each time she flaunted Flair. Her life, free as the blue skylark, singing her song of life. Her eyes oblivious to its surroundings, springing forth obscurities of Darkness approaching. Life was diamonds. Stilettos. Fishnet stockings and pearl necklaces. Glam. Fashion. Deluxe. Limelight. Cameras flicking and flashing at her poise. But there she was now, wrapped in nothing but modesty and shame. Standing 3 steps away from the door leading to Love, clutching her very last dollar. Laggardly dragging her stoned feet towards the golden steps, the violent pendulum slowly pounding against her chest impulsively. Her tousled appearance was an abomination in itself, any Press witnessing it would crumble whatever’s left of her world. She looked up into the gray, gray sky, and thought she saw a rainbow, just a sliver. The sleeping clouds seem to be laughing insidiously at her attempts. Funny, she thought. They seemed benignly passive initially. Reaching the door of Love, she gathered whatever’s left of her energy, and pounded the golden doorknocker intermittently. A gust of wind came upon her, sending her shawl off the bones around her neck. There was utter brightness for a moment, a Light so bright that even the sightless Rachaelle fell unto her knees in sheer trepidation. “You knocked,” was all He said. Her breath barely escaping her lips, she asked. “How much…for a touch of love?” Her legs went numb, and weakened at her expense. Collapsing to hardly a breathe left, she tugged His legs, screaming the desire once again, only this time, soundlessly. He looked at her, His eyes swollen with sorrow and desolation. “It’s all already been paid for…” Her hand shivering and trembling in senility and fear, she lifted up the parchment of currency she had been holding onto for God knows how long towards the He she was kneeling upon. Her heart was pounding with all the surges of energy its got left, with little irregular beats like that of the sound the rain makes. “It’s all already been paid for…” You remember her face turning paler by the moment, and her lips dead white. And her very last breath escaped through her lips, letting go that very dollar she grasped with her dear life, not knowing the Love she so knew she needed.
Monday, February 28, 2005
"For I am fearfully and wonderfully made..." [Psalm 139:14] Lord, where are You?
She sits at her table, with that long, forlorn look on her face, lost in her chasm of despondency. The cold, hard wind blows against her face, stinging every sense on her cheeks. Her lips goes numb. But yet she stares with those poignant eyes, those eyes which would tell a million sad tales. And she stares. She stares out of the window. She stares… at the window. Tears pours out of her eyes. Who are you? She looks at the indistinct image on the panel. I don’t know you. Subliminally, she stands up. With fatigued steps, she strides towards Mother’s room. Door creaks. Slight breeze from ajar window greets. Rays coming through light blue curtains greets. And so does the full-length mirror. She stares at stranger. Stranger stares back. Hideous. Repulsive. Who made you? What made you? She winces. You are a monster. I don’t know you. She bursts into tears. She falls onto Mother’s empty bed. She weeps. Her left eye suddenly stings. She jerks up. Panicky, she cups her palm over it carefully, hovering, with fear that she might hurt it. Gathering all the strength left in her, she stands up… and walks back into her chamber of despair. Carefully, she picks up her medication, and as a desperate drug addict would, she squeezes the life out of that little thing. Her hands were shaky, her body trembling every second, her mind wandering to places she never been before. Places she doesn’t even believe to exist. You are no different from a drug addict. I am not a drug addict. I just depend on this drug to live. The rough skin, the eye bags, the swell, the unshapely figure, the red eye, the repugnant color of her skin, the hard parts of her incurable skin disease… the legs. She winces again. She bawls. You said You created all things. So You made this, Lord? You made this figure? You never make mistakes. But am I a mistake? She thinks of her life. She thinks of her success thus far. She thinks of her failures. She thinks of her purposive days… and died to her depression. She stares at the hideous image. She turns and looks at the Cross. No. You are not worthy for that One, too. Yeah. Stare on. You are NOT worth it. “For I am fearfully and wonderfully made…” No. There are exceptional cases. And you’re one of them. Hah. She looks at her reflection. First her legs. Then her nose. Then her face. Then her body. Now her only asset left - her eyes. Destroyed too. God kinda hates you, you know. Look what He gave you. Her cell suddenly beeps. She picks it up. She reads a text from a cherished one. She refuses to reply his text. She hates him now. All she feels for the world and for anything at all is hatred. She knows he did nothing wrong, but all she feels for him is hatred. She suddenly feels guilty for hating him. She tossed her cell to the corner of the room. Her cell lands on her bedtime buddy with a soft thud, unhurt. She digresses. She grabs her blanket with newfound strength pulling her up from the floor. She releases herself from her shaky legs onto the bed. She continues weeping. She looks at her hips. Her fat, unshapely hips. She touches her forehead. Her hardened skin on her forehead. She looks at the color of her skin. Once radiant, now sickly. She touches her eyes. Her big, beautiful eyes which was once her pride and joy. And are now forced to be hidden behind frames. She reflects on her body.
She thinks of her personalities.
She contemplates on her good deeds.
She thinks about how far she falls behind the expectation the world has upon her.
She thinks of… crying.
She thinks of calling someone.
She thinks of the cherished one.
She thinks of the piano.
She thinks of… suicide.
No, you should die, really. No. You shut up, Satan. He shuts up. She sits up. And she walks out of her room, finding a way to relive herself. And she sits upon her chair, blogging about it, hoping for time to heal all pain. And for the seemingly faraway Lord to touch her once again. Friday, January 28, 2005
My love story Mirror, I hate. Mirror, I despise. My face Shows nothing. Not a touch of beauty Pure ugliness. My body My smile My heart My soul My head My hands, Fallen one I am, Dark… are my days. ---------------- The day when You came into my life Jesus Christ, My love My face, My body, My smile My head My hands. Fallen one I was, New found grace So that I can stand in the light, Lord Jesus. Renew my love for You again and again, I choose to love You, Lord. But I don’t want to be contend Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Swept away (part 2) Tears streamed down my face As I fought with what little strength I have left. Drinking mouthful after mouthful of sea water, I felt as if something was tugging at my feet. I was slowly slipping into a black world. Suddenly, like a gift from above A bigger piece of wood floated by my side. Accompanied by the roar of an eagle. I stared at the plank with disbelieve. It was big enough for me to lie on it. Clinging to the little glimmer of hope I have I began to struggle towards the wood. I had to get to it, I just had to, My life depended on it. Managing painful after painful stroke, I paddled slowly towards my goal. But the plank seems to be getting further away, and the seas seem to be getting rougher Fear overcame me as I realised that I cannot get to the plank by my self. "Help me, Lord" I gave one last desperate call. The One that had bought me this far must be the only One that can safe me. He is my only Hope. The sky was darkening, With dark rolling clouds along the horizon. Signalling a storm was fast approaching. I cling onto the small plank, as I stared in dismay as the big piece of wood was slowly vanishing. "I need You so much, Lord, safe me" I called out His name frantically. It started to pour heavily, With lightning streaking through the dark sky, Thunder booming threatheningly in the distance. I closed my eyes and said what was to be my last prayer. "Father, I'm so sorry that I did not trust You I'm so sorry that I relied on my own strength instead of You. So sorry. Father please forgive me." Waves crashed voilently around me I was being tossed again, This time, I was sure that I could not hang on any longer. I felt the gushing wind tore through my hair. I will hold on as long as I am conscious, Because He promised to deliver Me. The familiar voice came into my head "Let go now, and I will carry you" I blinked, first in unbelief and then with relief. But when I was about to let go, I saw a huge wave coming straight at me. But Father, there's a big wave heading towards me. "Trust Me, I will carry you" But the wave... "Be still now, My beloved, do you trust Me?" But Father, I cannot possibly survive... "Do you trust Me?" I do. I surrendered. I let go. I trust. "Have faith, My child, have faith in Me." I was swept away once again by the sea, strangely, the anticipated fear and panic was gone. I felt as if I was taken away from the raging sea, from my worries. Into a place where peace trancends, A secret place where I am found, In His grace and mercy. A place where there is true hope A place where there is true love. "Well done, My faithful servant You now know where your home is, and I have great plans for you So that my name will be glorified and praised to the ends of the earth." "Just be still and trust in Me, For I am a God that stays the same. I shall equipt you with the things you need to fulfill My purpose in your life. Just follow me." I awoke and found myself laying on the plank that fell from the sky. at the shore where I was first swept away. Above the sun shone through the clouds, playing it's beautiful rays on the beach. Up above, the familiar roar of an eagle was again heard, I stared at one of God's magnificent creation. I am saved for a purpose, a purpose for Him. I am saved for a reason, which is His Love for me. Sunday, January 23, 2005
The Seeing Heart She sat, unmoved. All was pitch black around her. The windows were wide open, the strong but gentle breeze blew right in, sending her hair all over her face. Yet she sat, unmoved. Her head rested upon the side of her bed, on her blanket. Her eyes were tired, but they were stubborn to stay open. The sound of her heart beat against the ticking of the little alarm clock on the table behind her. Her hair flew with the wind, dancing to its every movement. Her hand was still clutching that little thing, her little fingers curled tightly around it. That little thing. And she sat unmoved for a long, long time. “I will be still know You are God…” her little heart whispered. She sat, unmoved. The breeze grew a little violent, and the curtains were rustling against the railing which held them to place. The eerie sound of the winds sent goosebumps all over her body, causing her to shiver, of cold, not fear. The grills at her window clattered upon one another at the force of the wind, and the silence of the night slowly turned into a symphony of turbulence. The clock downstairs struck 2, and she knew it was 2 in the morning, when everything was pitch black without lights. She stay silenced, unmoved in that position, waiting on something only her tender 7-year-old mind knew would happen. Suddenly she felt the presence of another in the room. She turned towards where she felt that person is, but could only see darkness. She dropped that little wooden cross - the only memory she had of her late mother - and stood still, waiting on the other party to stir. She heard him breathing. Her heart smiled at his arrival. “It is I,” he said. She smiled. “You have come to see me again,” she said, still smiling. He looked at her, pleased with her delight of his presence. He came towards her, and she stretched out her hand. He bent forward and touched her hand, and their fingers intertwined with another. She leaned into him, and heard as his heartbeat beat steadily with hers. She sat there in his arms for a long moment before she spoke again. “Are you pleased with me?” she asked, her voice childlike. He smiled at her. “Can you see me smile?” he asked. She shook her head. “No, but my heart can,” she said, and she smiled. “I am smiling at you, child. I am pleased with your childlike faith in me,” he said, his arms strong and secure, holding her tight and safe. “You are the only person who loves me after Mommy left, Lord,” she said, a tear trickling down her cheek. “I am close to you when you are brokenhearted [Psalm 34:18],” he said. Her heart sank, and she cried in his arms. “Why must they treat me so, Lord? Just because I am different?” she said between tears, her voice cracking. “You are my creation, fearfully and wonderfully made. [Psalm 139:14]” She held him tighter in her arms. “I am your comforter when you are troubled.” [2 Corinthians 13-14] She cried, like a baby to her Father. “I will take away all your tears one day.” [Revelations 21:3-4] She felt utmost peace and security in His arms, His ever promising words so assuring were filled with loving kindness… “My child, it is time you get your physical rest,” his fatherly voice came. “I don’t want to part with You, ever,” she sobbed. Her heart was overwhelmed with fear of losing this love. This love her mother promised her to have after her death. This love… which was the only reason she have been kept alive. “Nothing will ever separate us.“ [Romans 8:38-39] “Take me with You where You are going, Father,” she clutched at His robe. “I am with you always, even till the end of days.” [Matthew 28:20] She released His robe, and obediently climbed into her bed, listening to Her Master’s words. She felt Him get up from where He sat, and her heart sank as she thought of Him leaving her alone. Yet she felt Him there. “I am with you always, even till the end of days…” The clock downstairs struck. Once. Twice. She sat up in bed, counting the chimes carefully, and they stopped at the fifth. It was 5 in the morning. Time to start the chores, she thought. She picked up her walking stick and groped her way through the little attic as the first ray of the sun came through the windows. And all she could see was darkness. Tuesday, January 04, 2005
A Soaring Eagle I sat on that very piece of rock, that very day. I sat…silenced. By the screams of a lifelong struggle. By the pain and agony of existence. By destruction… and devastation. I watched the very toil to survive… the struggles gone through just for another breath of air… …every movement of every muscle, intertwined within every wave of obliteration. “Do you trust Me?” I looked up at my Master. “Lord… this is tough…” I sat on that rock, silenced. “If you want to walk on water, get out of the boat.” I looked at my rock. The dry, comfortable rock. How she’ll wish to exchange roles with me… I looked up. “You said the Word, Lord. I serve You only. Now speak, and I shall do as You ask me to.” He put His Holy arm upon my head, and anointed me with His power. “You will go.” He disappeared behind the stormy clouds. Yet I see Him there. The clouds… which cover His Light and blinds mankind from His presence… …the clouds of tribulation. And I saw her again. Screams of help… exchanged with big undesired gulps of the seawater, black as coal, evil as Lucipher. I shuddered at the thought of him. Then I remembered the task He has for me. With whatever strength and courage I have left… I picked it up. And I fell. It was too heavy for me. “Lord…” “Do you trust Me?” “It’s too heavy…” “But…I am just a helpless creature...” I fell into my wings and wept. He came from between the clouds, once again. He carried me in His arms. “I never want to leave You, Master…” I wept. She was weeping too. Of despondency. Of hopelessness. Of helplessness. “She needs Me as much as you do.” I was silent. "I died for her." I bowed, ashamed of my selfishness. “Do you trust Me?” I spread my wings. I said yes. I bent down to pick it up. It was heavy.I digress. I soared in the sky, weaving between clouds and raindrops as big as my eyes. I was fearful. Apprehensive. Yet His voice rings in my head. “Do you trust Me?…” With one might, I raced to the surface of the sea. She was exhausted. She was giving up. Blinded by the darkness of the water and the evil of the storm, I released it… right next to her. And the hand of the Lord came from the clouds, carrying me to the rock once again. I watched her struggle with her faith, on that plank. That plank… which was too big for me… yet seem too small for her. I looked up.. in doubt. “Why can’t You just calm the storm, Master?” He looked at me, with sadness and passion in His eyes. “I love her…” I looked at wisdom in His face, at this all-knowing God. This God… whose wisdom nobody can ever fathom. And me. He reached down and touched my right wing. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” [Jeremiah 29:11] “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” [John 10:11] I bowed in awe of His presence. I trust His wisdom and judgment. “Come,” He said. “Your job here is done. You’ve got planks to deliver somewhere else.” “But my young…?” “Don’t worry. I will take care of them for you.” “Seek first His kingdom and righteousness and all will be added unto you.” [Matthew 6:33] I obeyed. I gave my babies one last look. The Lord will take care of you, my little ones, I whispered to them. And I spread my wings, ready for another takeoff. I gave out an eagle’s cry. And I flew over the young girl, still struggling in the dark waters, whispering a prayer for His watchful eyes over her. And indeed HE is. Friday, December 31, 2004
Swept Away  Swept away. Waves comes chrashing, heaving, hurling, flinging. My eyes filled with tears, Tossed like a rag doll, My worse fears started to come true. Struggling to maintain afloat, I searched for someone, something, anything. To carry me to safety. Someplace where I can rest my tired limbs. Alas, there was nothing but a small piece of wood. it was all I have. "and it's all you need" Driven by that strong voice of encouragement. I grab that plank, and hung on, for my life. I thought that the plank was about to bring me to shore. But it ventured further into the deep sea. Frighthened, I questioned. "Do you trust me?" that voice simply asked. "I donno..." "But you choose to hang on to me, don't let go, know that I love you" We journeyed further into the horizon. Suddenly the waves stopped. "Be still" I was told. So I hung on to that plank. For a long, long time. Silence "where are You?" I asked feeling tired and worried. Silence "You said you'll be here." My arms was starting to hurt. Silence "Don't leave me alone, I can't make it" I started to panic. Silence "please?" My voice turned in to a whimper. More deafening silence *jottings* To be continued....
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PROFILE 
The authors with the intention to sing of the love, grace and mercy of their Savior, Christ Jesus and to glorify His name created this blog. Inspired by the covenant in 1 Corinthians 13:13 our authors decided to testify His love through the gifts He's given to us in carving stories of His love, faithfulness and power. As we invite the presence of God in accordance to His will to fill this place and also you hearts, it is our sincerest desire that you would be able to experience His love, and it's importance, and the hope and faith that only can be found in His great and awesome agape love. For without His love, nothing is possible, not even life. Love, the true essence of life. May you too be able to experience it from the author of Love Himself. TAG BOARD speek here CALENDAR
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