Robin

Spring shows what God can do with a drab and dirty world. ~Virgil A. Kraft

I saw my first robin the other day.

I never knew something as small and simple as a red-breasted bird could give me such a rush of hope.

These recent days have truly been a dreadful tangle of cold winds, heavily falling rain, and dull grey skies...

...it almost seems as if spring is playing some silly little trick with my spring-fevered heart.

And then, I see some little sign that maybe things are almost done being so wet and forlorn.

...the pale green tip of a tulip leaf poking up in my grandmother's flower patch...

...the gentle, haunting coo of a mourning dove to wake me from my sleep each morning...

...the celestial romance in invisible pairing of Neptune and Venus in the early morning darkness...

...the bobbing of a robin's scarlet chest against the twists of brown, listless grass.

Spring is coming.

The air is changing, the world is turning.

The world is thawing.

I trust the robin's song.

सुंदर (Beautiful)

It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness. ~Leo Tolstoy

The Oscars are on tonight.

Tonight, hundreds of people are glued to their television sets.

Tonight, a parade of "beautiful people" march across the red carpet to be honored for their "contributions" to the world of visual entertainment.

And tonight, hundreds of women will stare into their mirrors and wish that they looked like Anne Hathaway or Natalie Portman.

They will wish to be beautiful.

Now, please don't get me wrong. I am not denying the beauty of those women who grace the silver screen.

However...

...beauty is not defined by fame.

What do we know about these women...really?

We know their names. Their faces. Perhaps we can recite their filmography or even some of their famous lines.

But that's all we know.

Beauty is not found in a list of accomplishments or in how many people know your name.

It is found behind your eyes. Beneath your skin.

It is not dependent on how much you weigh, how soft your hair might be, or even how gracefully you walk.

It's found in the way you live...

...in your treatment of others...

...in the words you speak...

...in your presence, your carriage, and your tone.

Beauty does not make the woman.

It is the woman herself that creates the beauty.

"Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised." ~Proverbs 31:30

Beautiful Scars

"Hate leaves ugly scars; love leaves beautiful ones." ~Mignon McLaughlin

This morning, I took the black, inky tip of Sharpie to my arms.

It goes against everything we were taught as children -- how many times were we scolded for writing on our skin with pens or markers of various sorts?

However, today, I simply cannot think of a better reason to go against the grain.

So, Sharpie in hand, I carefully wrote four simple letters on each arm.

L. O. V. E.

Why?

Because I love you. And I've been there.

To Write Love On Her Arms (TWLOHA, www.twloha.com) is an incredible organization made up of hundreds of people all around the world, standing against the lie that is so commonly whispered in the ears of today's youth.

"Nobody loves you. You're not worth anything. You might as well simply die. All you can do to numb the pain is to draw that razor blade across your wrist. You're nothing."

And so, several times a year, people all around the world take out their Sharpies and write these four simple letters across the skin on their arms for no other reason that to raise awareness regarding depression, hate, self-mutilation, and suicide.

So many people make their way through this world hiding behind a smile, or simply trying to blend into the woodwork. They don't want anyone to know that their hearts are screaming, that their hearts are bleeding for lack of love.

I used to be like that. I tried to keep up a brave face and keep smiling. In fact, very few people even knew that my heart was dying and all I wanted to do was curl up in a corner and simply vanish. I wanted out in the worst way.

My own scars serve as a daily testament to where I was...where I used to be...the musical score to the most agonizing symphony I have ever found myself conducting.

This is why this day means so much to me. I want to the world to know that I've been there. I want those broken, wounded souls to know that they are NOT alone. They ARE loved...and not just by me.

You see, there was once a Man who wrote LOVE in the most ultimate, self-sacrificial way.

He wrote LOVE on His body in blood...in lashes...in thorns...in nails...in the blood-stained splinters of a cross.

And He did it for me.

The reality of this is so powerful to me, as a former broken angel, that it brings tears to my eyes as I sit here thinking about the extreme LOVE that was showered upon me.

I was undeserving. I was broken. Cut down. Covered in scars.

And His blood took my agony, my shame, and my fear.

He LOVED me. He wrote His LOVE on my heart.

He made my scars beautiful.

To Write Love On Her Arms Day -- November 12, 2010

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. ~Romans 8:38-39