What Love Is

June, 1996, Hannah wrote me a letter and put it in my box at church. It read:

"To Amanda: your my best friend. your so sweet and friendly. I like you a lot. From your best friend Hannah."

We were seven years old. Now I'm seventeen, and tonight she writes me:

Oh my dear, sweet Mandi Lynn,
I love you more than I could ever describe. It distresses me to
see you in such pain and heartache. If I could do something to make
it go away, believe me, I would do it in a heartbeat! You are my
best friend in the whole, wide world. :smile: You are the one
person I can share my heart with and the one person who can
understand my thoughts. So many times you can finish my sentence,
and as I can finish yours. I immediately know how you are feeling
with one glance at your eyes. Mandi, I cannot begin to describe what
a wonderful person you are, and how much you mean to me.You
are special, created by God for a purpose, and your worth is
determined by Him. I know that you already
know this, and you don't need me to say, and I'm not saying it like
I'm preaching or something, because I wouldn't do that to you, I just
want to make sure that you are reminded of how loved you are not only
by me, but by your Father. (Breathe! Run-on sentence!)
And that you know full well how special and loved you are. How I wish I
could do something to help! :wraps arms around you in an e-mail hug:
We must go to Starbucks soon and have a long heart-to-heart chat.
I love you sooooooo much! I'm hear for you whenever you need
me. I will continue to pray for you, that God may ease the pain and
bring you peace of heart. I will pray that He will show you your
great worth - that you may know how cherished you are.
All my love,
Hannah

With these words I'm being held. Oh Jesus, this love comes only from You.

James 1:17

"ogni buona donazione e ogni dono perfetto vengono dall'alto e discendono dal Padre dei lumi, presso il quale non vi è mutamento né ombra di rivolgimento."

Tonight, I'm trusting You. I lift my head up to the sky and there You are, as You always are- my Father of heavenly lights. Che bello...

Be my joy, sweet Jesus. My hope is in you all day long.

Don't leave me here...

Journal Entry From Italy - May 24th, 2005

We needed an emotional and mental break. We needed to pray. Ms. Mickleson was taken home, with Alice insisting that she get her rest after a long day of walking, planning, and praying. Meanwhile, Mark suggested he take Pastor Scott, my dad, Scott C. and I back into Rome for dinner and to see everything at night. We took the metro into downtown Rome, where it put us near the Spanish Steps, where we walked up and then back down ... just to say we did.

We walked through the novel-like, busy streets to Piazza Navona where there were people admiring the fountains, listening to the lively Italian music performed by the gypsies, and "oohing" and "aahing" at the ancient art. We did much of the same, then ate pizza at an outdoor "ristorante"; it was so beautiful, like a fairytale. The waiter poured me a glass of white wine (because it's legal for me to drink here) and just for that, my dad let me have a sip. It wasn't really "good" but it wasn't bad either. I only wanted to try it because we're in Italy. "When in Rome..."

A gypsie came by then selling roses, and Mark asked if I would like one, but he got away too fast. I think they were starting to feel like they had to do something to make the trip into town worthwhile for me, being the only girl there and such. Just being here is more than enough.

Rome at night is brilliant ... magical, and romantic. Yes, romantic is the only word that comes remotely close to describing it. It was very sweet: Scott said, as the full orange moon was rising up over the lit Colosseum, "this makes me want to propose to Melany all over again." I can tell he misses her. I reached to touch the glowing moon- my fingertips, it seemed, nearly grazing its closeness
We couldn't believe we captured that image. God had a great idea. If I hadn't a romantic spirit, I don't think I could have appreciated that, or anything, as much as I did. I find myself eagerly waiting to share it with someone one day.

Getting back on the train to come home was a disappointment, since we were all so caught up in the wonder of everything. Oh but a sweet answser to a silly prayer came from the Lord, when I had prayed to see a storm while I was here. While we were standing and gazing on the moonlit Colosseum, a brilliant streak of white lightening pierced the sky, followed by a haunting roar of thunder and cool raindrops to offset the humid night air. I smiled and thanked the Creator. It was perfect.

We prayed on the sleepy train ride home, for Alice and her breaking heart, for the women in the church and the very little we know about the situation. Please handle it, Jesus. And do not let the evil one snatch these children from Your mighty hand. They belong to you. Give them forgiveness they need to forgive each other. Bind them together in love, and in peace, and in joy. Work a miracle, Jesus...

Isaiah 26:3

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace,
whose mind is stayed on Thee,
because he trusteth in Thee.

Winter Walking

(January, 2003)

There is a blessed fall of bursting heaven’s tears
with joy to freeze them over
like a thousand tiny shards of broken glass and powdered ice
that fall on quiet, familiar streets where we walk together-
you and I.

Like dust from angels’ wings
who walk alongside our sometimes silence, the color
of a baby’s blanket, white
like a wedding, white like forgiveness,
and the angels promise to keep quiet as we talk together-
you and I.

Words outnumber the fragile flakes that dance
around our ankles and settle on our eyelids, and words
drown out the sound of the December winds
that play in our hair- words like
“remember when...” and “someday...”
And the silences still speak
and whisper, “let’s just enjoy our walk together-
you and I.”

Our pathway winds with soft counsel along
a road that is wide enough for two- two to fall
when there are grooves along the way, hidden by
angelic snowfall and gray shadows from white-peaked cedars
and if you fall, we fall together-
you and I.

But let us continue down this narrow path of
life and of soil bearing struggle and decision,
followed by the thousands who have gone before us, and
won the call and race, and so with eyes
upward turned we’ll walk, and we'll finish together-
you and I.

You Are Loved

Sand in between your toes,
warm seashells in your palm,
chase monsters from under your bed.
I'll hold your hand this time,
sing soft into your ear,
while colors and dreams fill your head.

Tomorrow we'll read a book
about all the things you love
and trace your hand into the sky.
Your name's written on the earth,
eyes pulled from ocean waves-
watch you learning to fly.
Your days are filled...

With baby boy trucks and glitter paper,
"Go to work, Daddy, we'll play later,"
crayon dancing out of the lines,
miss morning nap,
hide and seek wth sleepy eyes,
kiss your rosy cheek goodnight,
dream sweetly into morning's light when I'll be there.
Sleep, baby, you are loved.

Finger worn photographs,
arrayed in squares on the wall,
telling the story of you,
are traces of lovely days,
embedded into forever,
written in yellow and blue.

They'll be storybook memories
older than yesterday;
they'll be tales and songs
to sing when at last you've grown.
For now, baby, take your time;
today can make you strong
when you remember...

Baby boy trucks and glitter paper,
"Save the best book for later,"
letters tumbling off the lines,
miss nap again,
building forts with sleepy eyes,
kiss your angel nose goodnight,
dream sweetly into morning's light when I'll be there.
Sleep, baby, you are loved.

You are loved...

Nothing

I don't know what it is about this period in life, but I cannot seem to write about any of it. In fact, lately, I haven't been able to write at all. It's one of the worst feelings ever...


Give me words again, God...

"Who gave this man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go; I will help you speak and teach you what to say." -Exodus 4:11

It's not like writer's block that fades with change. It's lasting ... there's just nothing. So what am I to make of everything I'm feeling and thinking right now? Words tumble out the window...

"God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few..." -Ecclesiastes 5:2

Know my thoughts then, Abba, if no one else can.

Beautiful Amen

(Requested post; not original idea; a promised try ;)

The smokey diner is quiet tonight, and from our one-legged table
I admire a simple man taking a seat across from his sweetheart-
like a king
before his queen. His life, shown through his once vivacious eyes
and crippled walk,
has been long lived and carried thus far to where he still eats dinner here
with his wife,
and I wonder if she is all he has left...

He smiles and winks
one eye her way, only those at the gate of heaven are privileged enough
to know what for,
removing his fraying coat of worn tweed,
while she gracefully unfolds her napkin to her lap
and adjusts the brim of her tortoiseshell glasses.
The crown
she wears now is well earned-
made up of perfect silver hair still meshing into curls atop her head, and though
her beauty could have once been found
in chocolate colored eyes and
sunny locks,
loveliness beams from every part of her-
beauty born of time and
greater desire.
And I wonder if she has ever loved the Lord...

She catches still the eye of her gentle love, who reaches
for her feeble hands across the table. They bow their heads together
in a whispered prayer, as surely they have done so many times before this evening,
while a hush falls
over the noise of the world if only for a moment, and
they bless His name unashamed- forever in love with each other...
eternally in love with Him.
To the Lord who has prospered this unfading love, grant me
weary hands to reach for,
hold,
pray with one day, and
the next...
and always.

Happy 20th Anniversary, mom and dad..

"Yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered..."

Oh blessed place of rest
when obedience is found
and You softly whisper...
"yes"
plant me firm to solid ground
unshakable am I
so govern me in love
catch me between still and sound...

Abba...
I stole a glance from the hill today which
overlooks the miniature courtyard where the children are always playing-
little girls in flower dresses and bare feet, running from
boys with swords of twigs and pirate words. I let my eyes fall over
and over
the wooden rooftops of the houses built upon the once lush producing fields-
verdant rounded stilts.
Whatever happened to the appreciation of green I will never know.
Behind their clan rests a bed of tree peaks and the mountain,
like their ruler, towering above in royal dominance.
This figure I look on daily- this striking purple mass of brilliance,
certainly an image of Your splendor.
Abba...
You are written all over creation,
but the world can only read words.

Journal Entry from Italy - May 27th, 2005

(This was taken from part of the entry for that day.)

Some wonderful things happened at the park while I went with the other women to meet up with Rita, the woman whose house I am staying at, and a friend of hers who is not a Christian, but her children attend the events at the church. I gave my testimony to her while we sat on a bench, and she listened so attentively. I pray that it reached her somehow. I was able to also encourage her when I was done with my story, and express to her the joy I have because I am made alive in Jesus. Does she want the same, Father? She must want it for her children...

I walked home with Rita and Valentina to their apartment that night. On the way, Rita asked me what song I sang at the women's meeting on Wednesday (since she was not able to go). I told her "Stupenda Grazia" (Amazing Grace), and she was thrilled because that is her favorite hymn. She said to me, as we walked, "let's sing it right now! You English, me Italian." So we did. It was beautiful; though our words were different ... they were the same. We sang about one amazing, saving grace. Rita doesn't know very much English, but when we got home she managed to say, "Amanda, thank you for singing with me. The song is very important to my heart." She was tearful, joyful. How I wish I could stay here my whole time in Italy. But tomorrow I must move to Dan and Alice's place where Scott, Mark, and Ms. Mickleson are staying now. It will be nice, but I'll greatly miss this family- talking with Serena. I love her so much.

I must go for now, so I will write later. There is something I must talk about ... oh but I can't now. I need to pray. ::sigh:: How tenderly I feel toward these people ... and how greatly it tears me apart...