Home is where You are.

I'm not blind at all to Mumbai's faults. For a city trying hard collectively to be at the cutting edge of modernity, it has seemed terribly backward, many times. But, I shall give Mumbai credit, where it's due. It prepares you to live, adjust and even thrive, in perhaps most parts of the world. Yet, as I went back home for a short stay, I wasn't struck with nostalgia, no memories swept over me, as I looked dispassionately out the car window at the chaotic buzz around. Just the happiness of seeing my family and settling into the familiarity of home. As a Christian saying goes, I live as a stranger on earth, with an enduring citizenship that awaits, beyond.

Home was another story. I felt like I was never away. My mother, bless her heart, promptly served up a feast fit for a king. In all the 3 and a half days spent, I unabashedly state that my jaws never stopped moving. Irrespective of culinary timelines set by civilization - breakfast, lunch, dinner, I ate.. anytime and more accurately, at all times. So, by the time, it was time for me to leave, I'd consumed enough food to feed a little African country.

As I cozied myself in my own room, plopped on my own bed, miles away and removed from my boot-camp style bed, I displayed the stuff I got for my family. More moved by the sentiment and feeling, than by the gifts, I loved the joy in my parent's faces and wondered if that's how they felt when I appreciated things they gave and did for me. God, perhaps, feels the same way, over happiness and gratitude displayed over a blessing.

Yea, this is home. Back to the order and cleanliness of my room, where everything is in it's right place. Yet, it had the calm and stillness of a day, just before a storm is gathering. My suspicions were confirmed when my sister confessed to running a squad-like operation to beautify the room, before my imminent arrival. Of course, her wardrobe, still was the same ol' horror of horrors. Not just messy, but, so messy, I thought I might need an oxygen mask to enter without passing out.

After 3 and a half happy days, of eating, talking, church-time, spent with the ones I love, it was time to bid adieu. I was to travel on Republic Day, a national holiday never being a good day to travel, since 9/11. I however, was more concerned, about handling my guitar in the plane, even as my mother fretted over Bin Laden, himself, being my co-passenger on my trip back to Bangalore.

As I landed at Bangalore airport, which by now, thanks to its uncomplicated layout, I've come to know like the back of my hand, I smiled at the memory of how suddenly Bangalore had fallen on my Mum's motherly radar. Everything that occurred within a 1000 kilometre radius of Bangalore, was promptly and duly reported to me, which included giving me information on my own company - the one I worked for.

Leaving home, wasn't the hard part. The daily living is. Not knowing what my future holds, but certainly and oh so, thankfully, knowing the One who holds my future. Well, Home is where the Heart is. And, where the Treasure is, there the Heart is. And when I think about it, Home is where You, Oh Lord, are. Let that be enough..

Matchbox

I live in it. A matchbox, that is. It's a tiny room. It ends even before it begins. My roomie called it one-fourth of a room. She was being polite. When I moved in, it wasn't a pretty place. Dust had settled in on the beds, which were of the kind one would find in prison. The air was stale and the room stuffy. I had a distinct suspicion that it might also be infested with roaches. As it turned out, they made a regular appearance.

"And this is where you can keep all your clothes, wokay", the landlady said, while opening a poor excuse for a cupboard with a flourish. She turned and smiled at me, as if I'd be staying at the Taj Mahal, itself, no less..I swallowed and enquired about the food. "Good food wonly..", she trailed off. I went to the dining area where my friend pointed to a gruel, which any self-respecting cow would have rejected.

A while ago, I'd stood at the balcony of my floor and waved goodbye to my parents. Watching their car leave, I felt my heart grow heavy. As I dumped my mattress on the prison bed and whooshed away a cloud of dust, I felt alone. Yet, I had this distinct assurance of knowing that I was meant to be here. I began the process of settling in. It was an uphill task trying to figure out how and where to place all my earthly possessions without tripping over them. A minor exercise in project management, if you ask me.

Work began at 8: 30 am and went upto 6 pm. My pick-up was at 7:30 am and I reached at 8, which meant I spent a good 10 hours at my workplace everyday. It was no minor relief that saturdays were off. So, in view of my schedule, I had to deliberately plan every minute not just at work, but also when I came back to my room. I reached at 7:15 pm and every minute after that was super-precious, because another day would begin again, shortly.

Well, you ask, why am I still put-up at this place? For starters, it's a hop, skip and jump away from Forum - Bangalore's biggest mall. So, all the basic necessities of a true-blue Mumbai girl, are met. But more importantly, I was determined to build something of beauty in a place of ashes. For a girl, who's lived all her life, in the safety, comfort, and convenience of home, the newfound independence was both exhilarating and terrifying. Every task, from reading a book to paying a bill, has become an activity that requires planning. I've become even more conscious of how I spend time.

I heard a talk last Sunday in a church about transit points in life. For the Biblical character, Jacob, Bethel was the transit point. And I thought then, I'm Jacob, in Bethel (figuratively, of course). We may not build our home there, but we try to make the best use of our moments while there. It's a place to dream. A place of disappointments. A place of hard lessons learnt. A place where one sometimes, has to pick up the pieces of one's broken heart and move on.

But, it's also a place of reflection. A place to meet new people, who serve a purpose in one's life, for some while, even if one may never see them again. A place where relationships are cemented. And a place, where your eyes are opened to the things that really matter.

My matchbox is livable now. It is swept clean. It also smells nice. But more, it is lit with a sense of purpose. It's aglow with grace. Even my roommate says so. So, when I raise my weary eyes to heaven, it dawns on me that I'll be given each day my daily bread. And I realize once again..that the most important things in life..are not things.

Not knowing..

I'm at the verge of completing 7 years in higher studies. M.Sc. Biotechnology followed by an MBA with a specialization in marketing. 7 years of hoping to find my calling, and waiting. So, by this time, I should have crystal clear clarity on what it is I want to do with my life, right? Wrong. And I should know which moves to make and when, right? Wrong again. It's tough not knowing. So, I'm still waiting..

Do most people have eureka moments when it just occurs to them, that this is the profession that they will be the happiest in? Then, there are others, who've always known what they'd do when they grew up. The son who always played with his daddy's stethoscope, the lil' boy who made sand castles and grew up to be an architect, the girl who found happiness peering into a microscope at school and became a scientist.

I wish I could say, I've always known what I wanted to do, since I was like, a fetus..but instead (wonder if one can use but and instead in the same sentence - but let me not digress), I say I didn't choose Biotechnology..Biotechnology chose me. I seemed to others to have a happy confidence about my next move. But, that confidence was never my own. I just knew, in my heart of hearts, that wisdom about my next course of action would occur to me. Why lean on my own understanding?..

Yet, at one point, I wondered if I should give it all up and change track altogether. Maybe, when I turned 25. That emotion has been subdued, since I first had the thought.

So, this is what is going on in my head. I'll just take one day at a time. When you walk in obedience, you never have to constantly worry about whether you're on the right road and where it is heading. It may seem dark, sometimes, but you look upward for light. Seriously, if I knew it all, I wouldn't need grace. God gives his children their daily bread, each day..and one day at a time. No weekly or yearly rations. It's like being handed over the bus fare by a loving father, just before boarding the bus.

Such is life. Didn't Naaman have to wash himself 7 times in the river before he got cleansed? He could easily have been healed in the first contact with water.

After all, no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind had conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him. The journey of life is intended to build the character of the pilgrim. Yes, it's tough not knowing what's next, and the answers to all the whys, whens and hows, but it's allright, in the end.

What I'm holding onto now, is hope. Of course, neither will I ever be content with the mediocre nor settle for anything less than my full God-given potential. And certainly, that may not be easy, but hey, I live by faith and not by sight..

Mumbai Rant

People say you never forget your first day at work. For me, it was my first day at my first work. I was officially in the Biotechnology industry. After 7 years of education - Masters in Biotechnology followed by an MBA, I was certainly itching to get going at work. Being placed from campus was a high. The only painful bit being; having to leave home. Moving to a new place, without a friend in the place. Well, almost no friend. I had a very good pal, although a bit far away from where I was going to be put up at. As of this point in time, I have already met a few people, whom I gladly call friends.

Bangalore wasn't much of a culture shock. So, yes, I'm at Biocon. Anyhoo, I'm at Koramangala, supposedly one of the most happening places in Bangalore. Although a far cry from good ol' Bombay (Mumbai), I'm beginning to warm up to the place. That Forum mall is nearby, is a big relief.

A few weeks in Bangalore though, made me realise what a unique place on earth Bombay is. It's a maddening city and so often, it's seemed to me to have no heart. I've read somewhere that we could judge the character of a city by how it treats its weakest people. Mumbai doesn't score very high on those counts. A reader's digest survey, rated Mumbai as one of the rudest cities in the world. That may well be true, if you consider the fact that what Mumbaiities know about civic sense and ettiquette, one can stick in a fly's ear.

But heck, you can't write the city off. I have no doubt God loves this insane city. It's a land of bewildering paradoxes. Someone who's just moved to Mumbai might be flummoxed - one sees posh apartments, luxury cars and just when one's getting used to the show of indulgence, one sees sprawling poverty. Huts, kids running about and filth. How do the twain meet? The thing is - they hardly do. Indifference is a way of life here. Whether it is to the suffering of the poor or corruption or injustice. Bribes are routine and euphemistically referred to as chai-paani kharcha. Sab kuch chalta hai. Adjust karo..

Yet, in Mumbai, people can make an enterprise out of anything. You walk down the road and break your shoe, there's a cobbler 'round the corner. You can't get into your own home; no problemo, for there's a chaabiwala who'll do it for you. Cooks to cook, maids to clean, and you'll get a rickshaw to get you from point A to point B; even if the said point A and point B are only a spitting distance away - in minimum fare. And no rant on Mumbai would be complete, without mentioning its legendary local trains. People curse the trains; but these serpent-elephant locomotives transport almost the entire city in a single day. Mumbaiites call the local trains as the lifeline. One day without them and the city will be brought down to its knees. In these trains, folks become travel buddies, complete strangers share their life-stories and resting your weary self down on a fourth seat is no minor feat.

People ask me if Mumbai's like this big melting pot. It's not. New York may be a melting pot, where people lose their identities and blend into the background. Mumbai, in Shashi Tharoor's words, is more like a thali, where people of diverse and varied cultures, somehow manage to retain their distinct identities.

It's a mad city. Oh, it's raving mad. And though I find myself gravitating towards New Bombay (Navi Mumbai) increasingly, I wax eloquent about my Mumbai, when someone asks; and even when they don't ask. Jeez, who would've thought I'd miss cheesy Hindi film songs. This post was to be titled, 'My first day at work' but after all this, it wouldn't fly. So, Mumbai rant it is..

For all it's crazy contradictions, I puff up and stand my full 5 feet 4 and a half inches, when I say I'm from Mumbai. Like I said, God loves this insane city. He died and rose again for its people too and yours truly is one of them.

Perspectives on Terror Management

The students of the SIES College of Management Studies (SIESCOMS) organized an event on the evening of 3^rd January, 2009 at 4 pm in the Institute premises on the topic of "Terror Management." It sought to bring together varied and diverse perspectives on the global menace – Terror and was aptly called ‘The Other Angles – Perspectives on terror management’. The discussion revolved around the current security infrastructure, the onus on the corporate world, and roles & responsibilities that various stakeholders can potentially play in the process of terror and crisis management. The discussion was moderated by an eminent journalist from CNN-IBN – Mr. George Koshy and the panel included representatives from the Police, Non-governmental Security Agency, Media, and the Corporate World, in the presence of management students, alumni and faculty, on a common platform in the SIESCOMS amphitheatre to discuss and debate the intricacies of Terror Management. The panelists included:

Mr. Surendra Mandhane - retired ACP, Navi Mumbai.

Dr. Aakash Akinwar - St. George Hospital (C.S.T), who also witnessed the Mumbai terror attack. 

Mr. Rana Uday Kumar Singh – GM (Operations), Watchguard Security Services, previously handled the Security division of the Indian Air Force for 20 years, was the Head of training – Bombay Intelligence Security Agency and has been handling Corporate security since the past 15 years (Marico, Telco).

Mr. Harish Iyer – Creative professional at Shobiz, Social Activist and blogger of international repute.

 Mr. Sonal Dabral - Bates 141 - Executive Creative Director, Asia Pacific, and Chairman, India. Prior to joining Bates 141, Sonal worked with Ogilvy for 16 years.

Ms. Rashmi Dhanwani - Ex Journalist & Social Activist – International NGO, Breakthrough.        

The evening started off with initial perspectives and first reactions, from the panelists.             Mr. Mandhane shed light on the initial confusion among the police, as to the nature and gravity of the attack. He described the gruesome bloodshed at the C.S.T railway station and the Metro junction.

Dr. Aakinwar, was at the Olympia hotel, opposite the Leopold Café, which was also attacked by the terrorists. He along with his colleague moved the injured to the St. George’s hospital. He quickly mobilized students and interns at the St. George’s hostel and worked through the night, trying to save lives. Ms. Aditi Mishra, a student at the hospital, shared her feelings of fear, as reports of the attack poured in. She stressed upon the lack of preparedness of our hospitals, to deal with a calamity of this scale and how difficult it was to get together, basic medical essentials like blood and suture materials. At the same time, she was overwhelmed by the heartwarming response from people all across the city, calling in to offer help and donate blood.

Mr. Singh, talked about the absence of pro – active security measures and how much things need to change; stressing the need for an independent training agency to handle terror attacks. “Security is sidelined and ignored”, said Mr. Singh and recommended that a basic security module, be made part of the curriculum at the school and college levels.

Mr. Sonal Dabral, who was in Singapore on the day of the attack, shared the feelings of helplessness that washed over him, as he watched the horrific scenes unfold on television. He spoke of how people, irrespective of nationalities, bond together in times like these, calling the attacks as an attack on humanity and not just India and Mumbai.

Mr. Harish Iyer, a creative professional at Shobiz and an activist, discussed the impact of the new media. His popular blog saw responses from all over the world. Relatives of people stuck in the Taj and the Trident, called up, desperate to hear some news about their loved ones.

George Koshy, pointed out how death was a leveler and that terror had no boundaries. Rashmi Dhanwane, who was present outside the Taj and the Trident, reiterated the fact, by calling terrorism a global plot. She commended Mr. Mandhane, Dr. Aakinwar and Mr. Iyer, for knowing their roles and jumping onto their tasks, instantly. She called for a greater clarity on individual roles and responsibilities, including the media, hospitals as well as the citizen.

At this point, George brought in the ‘Citizen’ angle, which was the highlight of the discussion. Asking members of the audience, “Who failed you?” he spoke of citizens as part of the entire link, when the usual suspects were mentioned – politicians, intelligence, and the entire government system.

 The discussion that began with the problem of terrorism, followed by all the things that went wrong, eventually boiled down to the ‘you and I’ element. Various concrete steps for action were brought out by the panelists, which were taken down by the students, to be included in a research project on terror management.

George called for stopping corruption at the basic level, by an increased conscientiousness among the citizens, in what he called as ‘getting back to the basics’. As examples, he spoke of refusing to bribe a cop, if one is caught for violation of a traffic rule or not complaining at security checks at airports.

Rashmi emphasized the need for awareness of local and global occurrences by means of absorbing media reports, various opinions, books and the like. This was a first step, in shaking off apathy. “Be participative” she exhorted and mentioned initiatives like Jaago Re, Jagrut Nagrik.com, ivote.com, United Way Mumbai, as a means of individual involvement in the political system.

As the discussion came to a close, George posed the big question, “Will things change?” As a good number of the panel and the audience responded by saying that, yes, they did believe, that things would change for the better, Harish brought the evening to an eloquent conclusion, by stressing the importance of doing small deeds. “Do things at the micro level. Each one of us bringing about changes in our neighborhood would make a big difference.”

 

 

Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

My favorite poem .. also Abraham Lincoln's.

Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave
He passeth from life to his rest in the grave.

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around, and together be laid;
And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall moulder to dust, and together shall lie.

The infant a mother attended and loved;
The mother that infant's affection who proved;
The husband, that mother and infant who blest,--
Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.

The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
Shone beauty and pleasure, -- her triumphs are by;
And the memory of those who loved her and praised,
Are alike from the minds of the living erased.

The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne,
The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn,
The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.

The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap,
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep,
The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread,
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.

The saint, who enjoyed the communion of Heaven,
The sinner, who dared to remain unforgiven,
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.

So the multitude goes -- like the flower or the weed
That withers away to let others succeed;
So the multitude comes -- even those we behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told.

For we are the same our fathers have been;
We see the same sights our fathers have seen;
We drink the same stream, we view the same sun,
And run the same course our fathers have run.

The thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would think;
From the death we are shrinking, our fathers would shrink;
To the life we are clinging, they also would cling; --
But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing.

They loved -- but the story we cannot unfold;
They scorned -- but the heart of the haughty is cold;
They grieved -- but no wail from their slumber will come;
They joyed -- but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.

They died -- ay, they died; -- we things that are now,
That walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
And make in their dwellings a transient abode;
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.

Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
Are mingled together in sunshine and rain;
And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.

'Tis the wink of an eye -- 'tis the draught of a breath--
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud:--
Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

-William Knox

To see you again

You held my hand and walked me through the woods
Told me stories by the candlelight..
Your eyes twinkling as you read stories of yore
I sat in rapt attention, lost in the sound of your voice.

The meals we shared..all the times we laughed..
For everytime I held your hand..for eveytime I shared your joy;
I can't believe I won't see you again.
I keep holding onto your hand, your fingers in mine.
And time can't take that away.

I had my heart set on happiness.
Now, a fist clenching my insides
Sinks down my vitals
and I can hardly breathe.
My heavy heart wears me down,
And I'm not allright.

His ways I don't understand,
and I don't even try.
It is His to give and His to take away.
And I can only look back.

I'll just rest my head at His heart.
Lay my hurt on His shoulder.
I'll just be held in His arms.
Entwine my fingers with His,
and live under the shadow of His wings.

Music- All for Glory

It's an oft repeated criticism. How can loud, raucous music glorify God? How can songs that do not even mention' God' bring glory to God?

We don't seem to come to the right answers because we don't ask the right questions. What does it mean to bring glory to God? I'm glad to say my perspectives on music as an instrument for God's glory have broadened over the years.

Our Lord is God of the church and also of the world. He calls out people to be His own, to be separate from the world, yet, He asks them to let their light shine while they are living in the world. We are called to be the salt and the light of the world. To permeate the world we live in, and slow its decay by being the salt and dispell the darkness by being the light; all the while retaining our identity as children of God and standing up for God's standards without compromise or shame.

Our heart breaks for what breaks His. We share His concern for the poor, the oppressed, the voiceless, for justice, for social reform. These are good fruits of the outworking of the gospel. So, it's wonderful and scriptural when a band or an artist speaks out on socio-political issues. What their songs reflect are their concerns for God's world. Some bands may have found their calling and fulfillment in songs with evangelistic themes. Some lean towards social action and reform. Either way, as Christians,we all are called to be witnesses, whatever our profession. When we recognise men as having an intrinsic worth because they are made in the image of God, it must reflect in our good works, in our works of art, in our sciences and in our songs. Yes, indeed, music offered up for glory!

The Chronicles of Narnia

I had never been into fantasy movies. Maybe Prince Caspian will change that. It is the second in the 'Chronicles of Narnia' series of seven books by the renowned Christian thinker and writer C. S. Lewis. And I wanted to watch the movie only because of the great writer. I was not disappointed.

There was never a dull moment in the movie. The characters are funny and endearing. Aslan, the lion, comes to the rescue of the Narnians and the kings and queens of Narnia (Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy) in trying circumstances, when their faith was tested and they could not see Aslan. He is the only character to appear in all of the seven books and presents Christian metaphors on various occasions throughout the series. According to the author, he is not an allegorical portrayal of Christ, but rather a different, hypothetical, incarnation of Christ himself: "If Aslan represented the immaterial Deity, he would be an allegorical figure. In reality however, he is an invention giving an imaginary answer to the question, 'What might Christ become like if there really were a world like Narnia and He chose to be incarnate and die and rise again in that world as He actually has done in ours?' This is not allegory at all."

In the end, Aslan tells Peter and Susan that they are now too old to return to Narnia and all four of them go back to earth. In this backdrop the song ' The Call' plays and the stage is set for future events with the words "No need to say goodbye". I cannot end this review without appreciating "This is Home" sung by Switchfoot; which is full of longing.

The plot is rivetting, the themes noble and the visuals splendid. All in all a wonderful movie.

Involvement

I have often wondered why many of us and our churches aren't in the forefront of social concerns. The evangelicals of the 18th and 19th centuries, both in Britain and America were immersed in the preaching of the gospel along with being involved in socio-political issues. The confusion over the Christian role in modern society calls for deeper study and action. We must indeed take an active part in social service and go beyond, to social action. John Stott in his book 'New issues facing Christians today' illustrates social action by the example of people being attacked on the Jerusalem -Jericho road. Good Samaritans reaching out to the battered travellers, fulfill an immediate need and provide social service. While being important, social action would go beyond and seek to eliminate the root cause by working to provide better lighting on the road and take some measures to tackle armed robbery. These days, I pray, God raises up more people who would influence policy-making in our beloved land.

So, then we are without excuse, to be a part of social service, social action and social reform. While each one's specialist calling and ministry may differ, we are all called to serve, as the Body Of Christ. Jesus went about preaching and teaching...healing and doing good works. We must share His compassion for the poor, the needy and the oppressed. "Is that not what knowing Me is about?" the book of Isaiah puts a disturbing question.

Jesus Himself left the comfort of heaven and came down among us, sharing and entering into the lives of the poor, the destitute, the fatherless, the homeless, those in need of comfort or a timely word. Service to the less-privileged must result from the understanding that all human beings have an intrinsic worth because they are made in the image of God. Man is body and soul. We believe in the transforming, life-changing power of the Gospel and also reach out to meet the practical needs of those we minister to. We must share Christ's heart for the suffering, be willing to step out of our safety nets and not be content with our own private fellowships of like-minded people ; lest we turn our church into a social club, where people with a common interest meet.

God is sovereign. He is God of the church as well as of the nations. Let us not make the same mistake Israel did, when they changed the sovereign, all-powerful, supreme, living God into an exclusive deity. A tribal God in the ark of the covenant.

Evangelism and good works must go hand-in-hand. Life-transforming faith produces good works, best illustrated by Jesus' example of the sheep and the goats on the day of judgement. A good work done for the least one, in the name of Christ, Jesus considers as being done for Him. A poem writen by a homeless lady who went to a bishop for help, who promises to pray for her, goes thus:

I was hungry
and you formed a humanities group to discuss my hunger.
I was imprisoned
and you crept off quietly to your chapel and prayed for my release.
I was naked,
and in your mind you debated the morality of my appearance.
I was sick,
and you knelt and thanked God for your health.
I was homeless,
and you preached to me of the spiritual shelter of the love of God.
I was lonely
and you left me alone to pray for me.
You seem so holy, so close to God
but I am still very hungry-and lonely-and cold.

I must be willing, then, to get my hands worn for service.
(Recommended resource: John Stott - New issues facing Christians today).

An ode to Switchfoot

Favorite band? Kids in college 'clued in' to the music scene greet newbies with this question to determine if they are worthy of inclusion in their club.

Though I've preferred, not having favorites, (wonder if you can start a sentence with 'though'), Switchfoot, comes closer than any I've ever had. If memory serves, the first song I heard was 'Meant to live', which I think, was also when they met with large-scale success. I listened to the entire album soon - 'The beautiful letdown' and the songs were anything but.

I liked the refreshing, clean sound and Jonathan Foreman's raspy, throaty vocals. Amazing, I thought. I found the lyrics to be reflective, deep, yet simple. And when he crooned,

"Maybe redemption has stories to tell,

Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell.

Where can you run to escape from yourself?

Where you gonna go?

Salvation is here.."

I knew I'd say 'Switchfoot', if someone ever asked.....

December 17, 2007

Rarely am I left tongue-tied. Today I am. A strange day, today. A good day. A blessed day. Yet, strange. Good, because it made me look in the face of some of my desires with clarity. Blessed, because, it left me with inspiration and hope. Strange, because I never saw it coming.

Well, God speaks in different ways. My thoughts wandered. I felt a deep, resounding thud somewhere in my core. I said, Lord, I don't want to ever look back with regret, at times I could have better spent, things I could have done, words I could have spoken and a person I could have been. I don't ever want to come to a point and wonder, what if..? Never.

Reach my creative potential. Led day by day. Step by step. One day at a time. Trusting, serving, truly living. Deep, complete, total surrender. Here I am. All of me. All for You.