God's Love Letter to You

I found this in my mailbox this morning. I don't know who put it in there or where it came from, but it definitely put a smile on my face as I was walking back to my dormroom and I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. I think that's the sign of a great love letter.

God's Love Letter to You

I made her... she is different. She's Unique. With love I formed her in her mother's womb. I fashioned her with great joy. I remember, with pleasure, the day I created her.

I love her smile.
I love her ways.
I love to hear her laugh!
And the silly things she says and does.
She brings me great pleasure.
This is how I made her...

I made her pretty and not beautiful, because I knew her heart, and I knew she would be vain... I wanted her to search out her heart, and to learn that it would be Me in her that would make her beautiful... and it would be Me in her that would draw friends to her.

I made her in such a way that she would need Me. I made her a little more lonesome than she would like to be... only because i need for her to learn to depend on Me... I know her heart, I know if I had not made her like this she would go her own chosen way and forget Me... her creator.

I have given her many good and happy things... because I love her.

Because I love her, I have seen her broken heart, and the tears that she has cried alone. I have cried with her, and had a broken heart too.

Many times she has stumbled and fallen alone only because she would not hold My hand. So many lessons she's learned the hard way because she would not listen to My voice.

So many times I have sat back and sadly watched her go her merry way alone. Only to watch her return to My arms, sad and broken.

And now she is Mine again. I made her. Then bought her. Because I love her.

I have to reshape her and remold her... to renew her to what I had planned for her to be. It has not been easy for her or for me.

I want her to be conformed to My image. This high goal I have set for her.

Because I love her.

Colonel T. M. Everett

I have a new fish languishing in pink fishy-paradise on the top shelf of my desk right now. His name is Colonel Theodore Michael Everett, and he kind of loves his new home. Sometimes he swims across his bowl and I can't stop looking at him because his tail-fin is so lovely. I think he knows how beautiful he is because I've caught him a couple of times looking up at the reflective surface of the water like he's checking himself out. I would have a fish like that. I would.

A house

Tonight, I'm in Colorado Springs.

It's funny how many memories can be connected with just one house. My grandparents have owned this particular home for as long as I can remember and probably even before that; countless Christmases and various summer vacations have been spent here, miniature golfing at the Putt-Putt course down the road, cracking nuts in the living room, and of course, getting as much of the family together as possible for that essential family portrait, many of which hang in positions of importance in this house.

The last time I was here, I was spending only a night before a long road trip back to Dana Point, California. I was preoccupied with thoughts of "major" social events I was missing, a church choir program and several all-important date nights in particular. (In fact, I was so consumed by those thoughts that I even forgot to notice the brand-new shelving unit in the living room.)

A house can measure your growth just like those enormous rulers your parents used to draw on the back of your bedroom door. Every time you enter a house, all the feelings you felt the last time you were there welcome you at the entrance, and for a slight moment, you're exactly the same person you were two years ago.