Skip to December 7, 2005-- For Jackie :)

This was posted on my blog-city blog last December 2005. It just reminded me of my dinner conversation with Jackie the other night...


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Giving in to the most romantic invitation of coming away, I was surprised at the first stop over-- inside of me. "Why would i want to journey here Lord?" I seek adventure, I seek depth and height all at the same time. But inside of me?

I've been catching my breath for the past couple of weeks. I have often been overcome with the feeling of bursting-- a need to stop to cater to my inability to contain-- uncontainable passion at times, uncontanable sorrow as well.

I have never felt as awakened in my life as I am now. Not even as the day I met the Lord. No, I don't remember ever having the ability to dream and to soar as I do now. I feel so alive; so in-love with life.

Every morning, my 1-year-old nephew would come into my room and wake me up with his excitement and vigor. At times I would resist, but who wouldn't give in to the spirit of a child ready to take in a brand new day? I would often wonder why I have never seen him sluggishly linger on his bed or cover his face with a blanket when each daylight kisses him good morning. But then again, a little bit more than 365 days here on earth has not yet given him enough trouble for him to refuse it.

The vigor of the newness of life.

For quite a while there I chose to be numb. So as not to feel the pain perhaps? Unfortuntely shunning Life as well. But like a frozen heart beginning to thaw, I begin to feel. I begin to feel alive, ready to chase after my dreams.

I also begin to feel the pain.

One night, the Lord just spoke to me with surprising words-- "Admit the pain." All my speeding dreams came to a halt. Do I have to? isn't forgetting a part of the forgiving? COmplying to the insistent Voice, I gave way to the flood of emotions and like a cheated child, I wept.

"Now forgive."

You can't forgive someone for an offense you yourself deny. I thought I was too righteous to take offense: Too mature to be affected. But I still live in fallen world and in a fallen self.

And you can't truly live until you truly die.

I am really doing a lot of dying inside. Don't you feel like dying when somebody pokes at your wounds back when you were a child? Forgetting all the good meaning of the process, you just cry as if saying, "Why are you killing me with this pain?"

But you can never run again, until you heal. You can never feel the wind on your face or chase after butterflies and rainbows if you choose to hide the wounds.

But I want to live.

And so I welcome it all... just to feel life once again.