No More Privileged

Although I do not read newspaper daily, an image on the front page of today's New York Times caught my eye.  I was making a quick lunch stop at Starbucks, hanging out by the counter, waiting for my drinks to be made.  And there it was: a row of dead bodies laying on the street, wrapped in white cloth, under the headline that confirms death.

Maybe it was the sweet face of an innocent baby, or the other children that were in the picture, or maybe it was the reality of death that seemed so cruel and untimely, that hit me so hard.  It made me think about the life I live.  I have always considered myself blessed beyond measure: a wonderful job, a loving family, a means of comfortable living.  My reality knows no war or hunger.  I do not know what it feels like to walk out of the house and fear for my life.  Knowing all of this, I am also sure that my life, my existence, and my circumstances are no more important than those losing their innocent lives in Syria or Egypt.

My heart goes out to the innocent civilians of the countries that are fighting wars that can not be won.  My spirit cries out, "Come, Lord Jesus...".

Where The Heart Is

I've recently traveled to a few countries I've dreamed of visiting for several years.  Although the sights were beautiful, the food was delicious, and my travel companion was amazing, after a week and a half I started to feel a little ping of longing for home.  It did not prevent me from enjoying my trip, but it was noticeable enough where I gave into thoughts of comfort of everyday life I've been used to so much.  The hot shower, the warm bed, the fully stocked fridge, the daily routine... I've thought of it all. All of the things I've been deprived of in one way or another while traveling.  I'm going to leave this thought and jump to another one.

I've been following Lady Diarist's writing for some time now, and she recently wrote a post about how fleeting this life is, and how there are no guarantees tomorrow will appear and bring us the things we are used to or expect.  As I was reading her blog post, I thought of my own recent longings for home, and I realized that I don't think of my Heavenly Home as often as I should.  I am only but a traveler on this earth, whose days are numbered, whose hope lies in Christ's mercy and grace to lead my soul to the eternal Home.  That is where my heart needs to be, and isn't as much as I'd like it to be at the moment.

John 14:13

Fickle Feelings

I accidentally stumbled upon this song today.  I love how God has no accidents, and how He speaks again and again, until He gets my attention.  I've been going through a stage in my life when I realize that I can not trust my feelings.  Thank you, Father, for confirming that Your truth rises above anything I may allow myself to feel.

Teddy Said It Well

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

~ Theodore Roosevelt