Soap for Jesus

Walking hurriedly along the street in the cool evening air, I glanced sideways at my reflection in the glass window, noting again my arms with dissatisfaction. I barely had time to think, rushing madly as I was to get the 8:39 train in time, trying to take in and appreciate the surroundings around me (anti-depression technique), but my shoulders sagged a little, thinking of my dissatisfaction with the way I looked, trying to concentrate on it being more important the way I am inside and yes, I DO like my style. Including the trainers. It's independent looking, like I don't care what people think - and I don't, to some degree. But there are certain things about my body that I don't like. Since being rejected, that insecurity has gained a lot of ground, even though I try to ignore it. Rushing along Broad Street, I neared three guys in suits sauntering along. Looking ahead, I went to go past them when one, on a phone, waved at me, in front of my face. I smiled at him as...

DO. NOT. LOOK. AT. THAT. FLOWER. Do not admire it. Do not appreciate it. Do not even compliment it. After all, it was designed by a Creator. And we should only thank the Creator for making the flower. "That flower is pretty!" is NOT an acceptable comment. "What a beautiful scent!" is also totally wrong. Does that sound acceptable, or do I sound like an idiot? ;) Would you agree that most of the time, the acceptable way to appreciate natural beauty is to praise it AND praise God for it? Oookay. So let's move from the third day of creation to the sixth. And...not to the animals. To humans! Recently, there's been an argument put forward that it is wrong for a guy to compliment a girl. It is that subject I'm attempting to address in a fashion today. Okay, so maybe the flowers don't have feelings that can be affected by such comments. If they did hear them, in association with praise to the Creator for them, do you think they would feel p...

I guess it's a pretty well known fact that I don't trust guys. Even though I love my brothers, (I really do. You guys are awesome!), I still can't trust most of the guys I know. (That not being entirely your faults; often it's mine, in that I feel I can't trust you because you don't know how bad I am. :P) There are a few that made it into my closed, barred, walled and icy heart. Because when it comes to trusting, that's exactly what I am. Remember I said that was what God was working on next? :D Those few (four/five in total) have faced every kind of backfire you could possibly imagine from me. And they still care about me. They're pretty amazing guys. God's...God works so clearly in them and through them to the people around them. To me, they're the epitome of Unconditional Love. God's Love. It was 5am GMT, and 11pm CST, when one of these guys was up chatting me one night. I won't name him to spare him embarrassment, but he'...

Dear guys, blokes, men and gentlemen, This is particularly addressed at you, although it's also a general announcement, because I want you to know where I stand, why I'm off limits and why my Facebook status reads, "It's complicated." Simply because a lot of guys seem to read, "It's complicated" on any girl's status not as a chance to help them out (not me in this case) but as a chance to get a foot in the door. I also want to explain what love means to me - something far beyond mere emotion or fluff, or something that can wither and die. If you've read my blog long enough, you'll know what love is to me. Eternal, unconditional, priceless. True love is God - the heart of God to man. And true love is a gift from God, planted in someone's heart, to never be given up on and thrown away. If God has given you love, then it's nothing to sacrifice lightly. I didn't start this way. When I first fell in love, it was a deliberat...

(As most of you know, I'm in Overland Park, Kansas, staying with the Noe family for the One Year Adventure Novel - OYAN - Workshop 2012. Today, June 23, is the day after the workshop ended.) Sarah Noe is wearing a very cool t-shirt. It has on the back "Live, Move, Be", and a Scripture reference in Acts. I likey. I'm struggling to find words to say what's in my heart, so for right now, I'm just going to type out the little speech thingie I gave last night just before the final session ended. I was shaking, writing this. I wrote it and struggled with words, and re-read to find out that it said a lot that struck the chords inside of me, but nothing that really seemed to say my deepest emotions. I debated backing out of reading it...and the only reason I wrote it was so I'd stand less chance of crying on stage. I prayed God would bless it and that it would be used to bless, but it felt totally inadequate and I wasn't expecting Him to. I know this...

A thousand novels could be written and still not all could be explained of the complex, intricate creation of love… Where care meets protection there must be a balance. Love never hurts in the name of care. Love has self-control. Love stays through hurt. Love breathes. Love is gentle. Like a friend with patience that abounds, love listens. Love does not condemn. Love looks at others before itself. Never does love find blame in others to clear its name. Love is merciful, pure, kind, and forgiving. Love remembers the past, but does not let it damage the future. Where love stands, all can be overcome. Love should be calming. Like a blanket that keeps you warm and a roof that stops the rain. A sword for protection though not wielded against you. Love is safe and sound; calm and peace. A refuge from the storm of life. Love is not prejudice. Love is free from seeing self and viewing image or one’s own safety. Love sees what is and not what is wanted. Love does not change over t...

Sometimes I keep getting glimpses of how great God is. Particularly when I imagine this great world as a ball spinning on the tip of His finger. Or when I imagine a single breath from Him and all of this being created. He could've THOUGHT it into existence. Instead, He chose to speak an entire sentence. I was just hunting down one of the proverbs for another blog post, something I read in Mom's Bible as I ate breakfast, and it struck me. The intimate complications of PROVERBS. One book we struggle to understand. One book inspired by God, from the complexity of a human mind. One human. How many of us are there? Look at the blades of grass on a misty morning. Hazes dimming the sharp dark outlines of the trees, creating a golden blur for a morning sky. Blades of grass everywhere, coated from top to bottom with jewels of sparkling water. Tiny little blobs. Beautiful. Simple. ALMOST EVERY BLADE. In ONE tiny street. In one tiny town. In one tiny county. In one tiny country. In one ti...

You know the ink tattoos. Some people like them, some people regard it as too near the real thing to not be almost a sin. I'm not debating, but I do partial compromise. :P On days when I need to remember stuff, I'll use my arm as a piece of paper. It's far less likely (hopefully!) to get lost than paper is! Some things one needs to remember are dates, times, places, to-do items. Other times - it's a simple Biblical truth. If you remember, one of my favourite recent ones has been "Love Endures Everything". For the purposes of this blog, we'll narrow it down and say that there are two kinds of love. Sentimental romantic love, based off feelings and emotional spurts, and true love, based off something much deeper. The first type is what most of today's early marriages are made off, and that is why there are so many divorces. People promise for better or for worse, and when the tough times come and attempt to tear them apart, it's easily done because t...

I didn't write this song. It's Don Francisco's. But right now, it says what I want to say more perfectly than I could if I tried. When the weariness sets in - turn to God. When it seems easier to turn away; no matter the hurt - carry on in His strength. When the heart cries it can't do any more, take the next step forward in the supernatural almighty Hand of God.

Written by Luke, inspired by God, sent by a friend. Luke 7:36-50: When one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, he went to the Pharisee’s house and reclined at the table. A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.” Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to tell you.” “Tell me, teacher,” he said. “Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love hi...

Last week I woke up early in the morning; tired, dragging myself around, I was not appreciative of being rushed out of bed to go and clean out the chickens. I stepped outside and looked around casually as I carried the cleaning items over to the chicken house...and gasped in happy surprise at what I saw. I noticed even more when I was scrubbing down the roost, so much so that I pinched my brother's camera because I wanted to show you. Spring crocuses: Purple and pale lilac: The forsythia blooms: Unfolding its flowers: Snowdrops: Whiter than snow: Crocuses on the other wall: An overview of the snowdrops: These are only a small selection of what I saw. There are daffodil plants just starting to glint with gold at the edge. Bluebell leaves are stirring in the dirt. Sticky new buds are appearing on nearly every tree. Life is starting again God is not finished with you. Spring returns, and so will life for you. Lift your head and look at your future, not your present. Who you are doesn...

I am cleaning out the chickens, bending over the chipboard floor, cleaning off the muck and disinfectant with a few scraps of kitchen towel. My MP3 plays out John Waller's "While I'm Waiting". Suddenly, I hear Dad calling my name and look up, removing one earplug from my ear. A horrendous racket hits my ear from some loudspeaker. Dad, grimly: It's Arabic. Me: It can't be!! It's Sunday, not Friday! I run to the fence and look over the next two gardens to the street, then turning my head to the right so I can catch a little more of it. I listen, intent. The Church of St. Peter's is chiming its bells. It is 10am. At first I think it could be someone driving around speaking the Gospel, since it is Sunday morning, and I cannot distinguish any words. Then I hear a slur on a sentence and I have no doubt. The accent is too clear. I turn to Dad: Why? Dad: Either because it's Sunday, or they could be calling out to their comrades because of what's going ...

Warning: Not suitable for younger readers. Thursday morning during work, my brain was working overtime. I guess that comes with fervent praying and thinking, something which is not an unusual process with me, but one that I haven't subjected myself to for some time. Results of this being, 1) I was able to write an email with prayerful consideration, and 2) three blog posts I wanted to write. This is a minor one, but still an interesting note. As I was cleaning down the front of her fridge, I noticed that my employer had a certificate on it from her boyfriend/partner. "The World's Sexiest Female". A few of the words underneath were, "hot, sassy, sexy, flirty". The cute little picture in the corner was one of those little-girl stick figures, with an angelic smile, red horns in her head, a pointed tail and a trident. (No, it wasn't me. :) ) It struck me as I looked at it that that is entirely the world's idea of love. All guys want in a girl is the hott...

Some of you might like to see an update of my beautiful little niece... Here she is at the age of three months! She can: Gurgle baby coos, Smile, Laugh, Support her own head (was doing that at two weeks), Roll over, Attempt to sit up alone, Attempt to stand up. My twin brother Jose and I, with Ayanna in the mirror. The photos to the left are Jose and I as children. :) Ayanna and me, again in the mirror. Ayanna, her Mom - my sister Sam - and me. :D A little blurred, but Ayanna smiling. :D

Christmas. A time of peace and joy and family and loving and giving. A time to remember the cause of the celebration - the Lord Jesus, the God of all, becoming smaller than the full stop at the end of this sentence. One of the things I love about Christmas is a childish anticipation that usually possesses me at the beginning of December, a gay* abandonment of spirit, excitement at the approach. Second thing I love most is when one goes out on Christmas Day, with a smile on one's face...people walking past beam back at you and the happy greeting of "Merry Christmas!" is exchanged. For me, that symbolises a little the line, "peace on earth, goodwill to all men." This year was one of the worst Christmases. We ran a high risk of not being able to get my brother home; my sister was living on our living room floor. Most of the days were spent trying to sort problems out and waiting hand and foot on Ayanna. Out of our usual stock of mince pies, rum truffles and marzipa...

So! After that last blog, I really have to do the follow up photos before getting on with my multitudinous other blog posts. I mean, this whole morning is devoted to blogging...and I need to look up exam papers and work on my CV too. Argh! :P Well! Last Thursday or rather, two Thursdays ago - day after Miss Ayanna made her appearance into this chilly world of ours - Grandma, Grandpa Jeff and Auntie Sian made their way over to the Safari household, just as soon as they were back from hospital. I'm glad Sam and Dennis have given Dad that title. To Jamie and George, Dad is known as "Uncle Boo" (from peek-a-boo ;) ), as he is only "stepdad" to Simon and Sam, and Si was 16 and Sam 10 when Dad married our Mom. So it really is nice that with both sets of Ayanna's real grandparents alive, that they chose to give Dad that name. Rambling again, sorry! So here are the photos. Mommy got a little cross with Auntie cause Auntie kept flashing lights and Mommy thought Ayann...