It was not the case. Easier said than done. Words fail me now. I haven’t written anything for quite some time. I have to admit that there are reasons and distractions. One, I am becoming more and more busy. People at the office have realized that I have some god tricks up my sleeves so they have been asking me to do more work. When I go home, tired, I really just want to read the entries of my friends. It’s is more relaxing to appreciate their writing. It’s like someone screwed out the creative juice in me all day that there was nothing left for me to write about at night. Then, more responsibilities at church made me focus more on things that could help direct the future of souls. How can one say no to a higher calling? So I type the program, make follow-ups, plan for the week. And then there is my infernal memory. I usually think of something to write about anytime of the day and then promise myself to write it out later. But in front of the monitor, I get stumped. What did I want to write about? Even if I remember the subject, I have forgotten how I wanted the words to come out.
O well, there are good days, there area bad days. And I am having a bad case of the not-so-good days.
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I received a text message this morning. From a young woman who was part of the audience who listened to my story of a changed life. It was in a previous entry that I mentioned my fear of being in front of a sea of faces, numerous pairs of eyes all looking out you while you speak about your life and wondering how they would take it all in. She said that she wanted to know God more since she heard me speak. And what I felt was utter joy! My little story encouraged a heart unbeknownst to me. My words, used by God to lift up the spirit of a searcher.
I want my life to count for something. I dream of helping change lives in the truest sense of the word. I want to be remembered not for my expertise in a particular field nor for anything temporary, but for being an instrument in directing a soul to the right path.
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A friend’s entry encouraged me to clean up my mess of a room. I am normally an organized person but a busy schedule and a sentimental heart are a bad combination. I tend to accumulate movie tickets not only to get points (for a privilege card) but also to remind me that this day a few years ago I watched this fantastic movie. I have those mercury Drug receipts and credit card receipts plust the billings. I keep all my used prepaid loads for reasons I no longer know. And of course, no one could blame me if I hoard all the birthday and Christmas cards I received for so many years especially if they contain meaningful messages from dear people I know. Then there are the notes I made from past summer camps, Sunday sermons, and ministry activities. I learned so much from those. I have my crossstich patters, threads, cloths and finished works, Then the hundreds of pictures plus the product of technology– picture CDs. I have past planners and journals. I have many mailed letters since high school days.
Catching on her question, I asked the same to myself : Am I keeping these stuff so that I could throw them on another day (thanks drifter!)? A mind set all over again. I tried to convince myself to throw all my stuff. But I just couldn’t. Not all of them anyway. I finished my Sunday evening looking through a cabinet. I took out all the contents and tried my best to shoot into the trash the things that my heart are willing to let go. Some are fairly easy to give up. But my letters and certain cards I have to keep. I still need to clean out some storage area. I am fairly sure that I will find things that would require great decisions. To borrow : to throw or not to throw, that is the question!
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I think that I have a gentle spirit. I tend to think of the positive side of people. Some even say that I am naïve. But there are things that might just make me do evil to someone.
Don’t get me wrong, smokers can smoke away to their hearts’ content and I will not care. Just don’t do it with my air. Some of us are not blessed with sturdy lungs. To my peril (or not), I have been given a family history of asthma plus the sensitivity to all kinds of strong smells. Even to perfumes, unfortunately, I get dizzy.
And so to my eternal disgust, someone at the office smokes inside the conference room. And I want to ask this person several questions. Where do you think the smoke goes after you puff it out of a cigarette? Does it stay just inside the room? If only this being could understand plain English or I could explain properly the scientific principle behind the circulation of air inside an office building, then I would probably march and explain it to her. No such luck.
And so my lungs just take all the pollution in. and quarterly, I have noticed, my lungs decide to clean itself up. I cough. A lot. Breathing at night became hard.
I sometimes imagine that I would probably die of lung cancer. Or any disease related to breathing. My lungs. My poor, poor lungs.
And so just imagine what goes through my mind to make her stop doing what she is doing. Try to think what I sometimes wish for so that I could have a relatively clean air during my long stay in the office. Don’t think that I am that bad. What I do now is that I pray. Please, please, make her stop. Let me have my pure, unadulterated air, if there is such a thing on this earth.
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Now I have written.