Journal Entry in April

…interesting how much sunlight can lend a different perspective to a new season, a later hour of the day…its throwing dapples of light across this journal page which move when the breeze brings motion to the tree limbs and leaves…sitting here, writing seems to be a contribution to this envelope of calm into what should be, by this hour, a bustle of busyness and activity…not like it is…a sleepy sun awakening just before noon, still holding a mystery of what the coming hours will bring

…perspective…definitely determined by outside influences and dealt with by inward attitudes…how much of one influences the other?... how much of the outward impacts the inward?...is the outcome a true measure of character and/or strength?

…look at the rocks here on the table…do they appear to be different within the dance of different patterns of light and shadow?...yes…are they different rocks?...no…they are the same…solid, cohesive…but with the different season and hour, different facets are highlighted, different minerals are revealed, different edges are hidden

…I suppose I am much the same way…differences, good and bad, beautiful and ugly, positive and not, revealed under different patterns of light and shadow (outward influences?)

…but, unlike rocks, I can move…I can shift my position…as such, is it my responsibility not to allow myself to become paralyzed with emotion so that I sit sedentary, covered in shadow?

…I believe the answer is “yes” but sometimes I can’t find the way to break the paralysis…at least, not immediately, not as quickly as I would have it be done

…my responsibility…IS it my responsibility?...or is my responsibility only to call on the One Who can break my paralysis…Who is in control…I’m glad that God can pick up the pieces…He can lift me up, spiritually, emotionally, when I’m paralyzed…plus, He has a different perspective and I pray to see things through His eyes

Perspective?

Have you ever done something innocently enough, to have it revealed in the light of a different perspective?  And do you know what usually sends me emotionally sprawling on my face?  My sponsor kids.

I sponsor a child in Africa.  I gave an extra $20 for her Christmas present last year, which I was feeling kinda bad about—I wished it could have been more.  I just received a “thank you” for what it purchased for her—a pair of shoes, and cloth.  (To be fair, when you give extra for Christmas, it goes into a “pool” and is distributed evenly among the children.  I feel that’s fair.)

But, anyway, this was her Christmas.  Shoes and cloth.  She and her mother are very poor, and I don’t know of any details of what all she receives other than this.  I only know the “thank-you’s” that come in the mail are only for those things that came indirectly from me.

Then I thought of ME in comparison to her. 

When I was her age (12), and would I have received shoes and cloth as a gift from someone, I can tell you what my reaction would have been.  I would have smiled and thanked the person (because that’s how my Mother taught me to behave) but, honestly, deep down, I WOULD have been very disappointed.  Especially when friends would have been telling me about presents they received, which I know I would have thought were so much better.  More “cool.”

Then I thought about her again.  You know, to her that gift may have been everything!  Her thanks may have been an expression of sincere love and honest appreciation.

Has living in America dulled my sense of appreciation?  I grew up and didn’t really know “need.”  I had a place to live, food to eat, an education, clothes….and, though money was an issue, I always had some of my “wants” met. 

What does this say about our society?  Surely, I’m not the only one to realize that something had died deep within…until Jesus sent me a little girl in Africa who helped open my eyes.

Poetry Pause - On the Edge of the Moon

It's not the same
as in black-and-white movies
where the good guy always wins,
the boy gets the girl,everyone lives happily ever after
and nobody ever dies.

I'm living life
on the edge of the moon.
Not afraid of falling off, exactly,
but a bit nervous of falling down
to Earth
and to full-color reality.
It's nice up here--
so much closer to Heaven.
But here, I am alone.

The hurt is healing
and, ultimately, I was born
with a determination and
a strength that Mother
never taught me
but exists, just the same.
It's in the blood.

So I will journey away
from the dark side of the Moon.
I will not fall from the edge
but I will take a leap.
Look out below.
I am coming back.

by Pandora
appeared in Stand Alone Literary Magazine
February 1999, Vol. 3, #1

Have you ever felt like this?  I wrote this several years ago.  I was down and depressed when I began to write, but writing things out is one way to change my attitude and perspective.  In writing, I realize that all is NOT gloom and doom, and I do have a choice NOT to be a victim.