we are advised “to make a good impression” when meeting people for the first time.    well,  first impressions may be important but they should never have the last word.  Lasting impressions take a little longer.  A truer picture requires a little time and effort.  We are so much more than meets the eye.  (we are icebergs, remember?)

“The Lord does not look at the things man looks at.  Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”  (1 Samuel 16:7)

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly;  what is essential is invisible to the eye.”  Antoine de Saint Exupery

this is good advice which I must take to heart (pun intended) and put into practice every day.  My world is full of invisible people waiting to be seen and icebergs waiting to be discovered.

sincerely,               Grace Day

 

my task is to create a profile for myself or rather of myself, not a visual one but a written one.  Either task to me is equally daunting.  I think I would prefer the artist’s challenge of capturing myself on canvas, although, how do they do that? There have been some self portraits by famous artists over the years, but this is to be a profile, which is different than a portrait.  Different how? you ask.  Well, a profile is a side view, a silhouette, an outline, a sketch.  It lacks the depth and dimension that a portrait would provide about its’ subject.

But you see, dear readers, I have entered the world of online dating and I am required to create a profile to post with my picture and my other information, my stats if you will.  (and I thought only athletes had stats?)  Something in me is pushing back at this routine request, actually outright rebelling would be closer to the truth.  You see, I think we are more than our resumes!

In attempting to put my life on paper, something is lost in the process.  The very words I pen in an attempt to define me, instead confine me, putting limits on who I am, as I feel compelled to stay within the lines I have drawn for myself or worse yet, to stay within the lines that others have drawn for me.  We are each so much more than simply the sum of our cumulative life experiences.  Our whole is always greater than the sum of our many parts or facets.  We are not a mathematics equation; we do not equal the sum of all our parts, we far exceed it.  This is true for each and every one of us.

We are more than a list of our likes and our dislikes.  We are more than a list of our accomplishments.  We are more than the list of our failures and our struggles as well.  (but who will include these in the profile they create?)  And so it will happen that strangers will read my words.  But will they read between the lines? Will they know the truths that lie behind the words?  Will they hear what is left unsaid?  Will they hear my heart?

We each have a story to tell.  Actually, we accumulate many stories over our life time. We weave them together into the fabric that we wear as we go through life. This fabric with which we clothe ourselves becomes our life story.  We are so much more than meets the eye.  We are more than a profile.  We are each a full-fledged portrait, meant to be beheld in person.

And that is where cyberspace falls short.  I want an in person relationship in the real world, not a cyber relationship in the on-line world.  Could the former result from the latter?  Time will tell.  Given all the problems technology and I have in getting along, it will take a miracle to make a real world connection.  I’m hanging on to my mustard seed even as I write these words.  My God says a mustard seed is all that is necessary.

Bottom line, I don’t want to know someone’s profile, I want to know them.  And I want someone to know me.

“Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”  (1Corinthians 13:12)

sincerely,    Grace Day

 

appearance and reality are often two very different things;  forced to choose, I choose reality every time.  why?  reality may be less pretty, more painful, less glamorous, more mundane,  but reality is always more, well, real.   let’s face it, appearance is by definition a mere “apparition” or image of something, not the thing itself.

I’d rather have nothing than have the appearance of something, while lacking the very substance of that thing I so desire, whatever it might be.   An empty reality is preferred over an abundant appearance every time.  Appearance has no ability to satisfy, to challenge or to reveal truth.  Reality reveals truth, challenges me to face that truth and grow, and therefore ultimately has the potential to satisfy. Appearance has no staying power, she is an image, an illusion, an apparition fleeting by nature.  Reality provides me the power to relate to others who dare to be real as well.

So buyer beware;  things/people are not always as they appear to be.  In fact, almost never.

“The Lord does not look at the things man looks at.  Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”  (1 Samuel 16:7)

sincerely,         Grace Day

joy, that ever elusive, always sought after feeling or is joy even a feeling? and if not, then what is joy?  a state of being? a way of living?  I do know that she is often confused with happiness, her counterfeit cousin.  Happiness, so circumstantial, so fleeting; as fleeting as the circumstances which heralded her arrival to began with.  She never tarries long with anyone.

But joy,  she abides in unexpected places and shows herself when I am not looking for her.  When I have given up my search and seek instead others’ hurts to heal or others’ burdens to share, it is joy that keeps me company in these endeavors. Often, I am not aware of her presence.  She is quiet.  She does not announce herself nor ask that I announce or acknowledge her presence within me.  She makes herself at home and lingers long despite the storms that rage around me. They do not scare joy nor run her off.

Joy entered into our existence with the birth of Jesus.  The angel told the shepherds that very night, “Do not be afraid.  I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.  Today . . .  a Savior has been born to you; He is Christ the Lord.”  (Luke 2:10-11)

Joy stays with me in difficulty and in grief.  She comes alive when I read God’s Word or when I obey His commands.  Joy is most visible when I bring her to others. Otherwise, she abides with me, a quiet guest, making no demands, yet filling places in me that, were they left empty, would fill with things too heavy for me to carry, crushing me beneath their weight.  Joy gives me her wings and teaches me to fly.  She never leaves me nor forsakes me because Jesus never does.  Jesus is the author of joy.  Apart from Him she does not exist.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.”  (James 1:2-3)

“. . . Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”  (Nehemiah 8:10)

Jeremiah said of God’s Words, “they were my joy and my heart’s delight,”  (Jer. 15:16)

Jesus told His followers, “If you obey My commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed My Father’s commands and remain in His love.  I have told you this so that My joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.”  (John 15:10-11)

I do not need to find my way to joy, for joy has found her way to me.  She has been with me all along.  She is light in her abiding and she sheds light when my way is dark.  Thank you, God, for Your good gift of joy.

“. . . for I have redeemed you.  Sing for joy, O heavens, for the Lord has done this;”  (Isaiah 44:22-23)

sincerely,           Grace Day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The morning moon, lies pearl white, stark and still in an ink black, predawn sky, alone now that all the stars have gone to bed.  She takes my breath away while time stands still, as still as this morning before the world awakens.  My heart aches in that moment of beholding her, pausing to rejoice at such beauty freely bestowed on any bold enough to turn their gaze from earth to heaven, if only for an instant.

It is only a moment in the slow, swift approach of the coming day that morning moon and I share.  I look away, overwhelmed, her beauty too much to fully take in a moment more.  I tell myself I will remember how it was and turn my eyes to other tasks that take my time.

When next I look for her again, the sky is now a palest blue and my morning moon, still there to keep me company, has become a paler, more translucent version of her once luminous self.  She now must share the sky with the morning sun, but still she lingers, unwilling to disappear though her allotted time is past. This ancient ritual, the changing of the guard, plays out with me as witness once again. My morning moon hangs on, deigning or daring (depending on your point of view) to share the sky a little longer with her constant rival.

Oh, morning moon!  Such beauty I cannot contain, though I long to reach out and hold her here with me, if only for a moment more.  I long to possess what cannot be possessed, perchance to purchase what is not for sale but is God’s gift to one and all.  The beauty in this still life moment, this moment that is not still at all, but oh so fleeting, eluding any grasp I would attempt, leaves me to wonder, did I see her thus at all?, when she has finally left her place and gone to grace another’s sky.

“And God said, ‘Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark seasons and days and years, and let them be lights in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth.’  And it was so.  God made two great lights — the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night.  He also made the stars.  God set them in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness.  And God saw that it was good.”   (Genesis 1:14-18)

sincerely,      Grace Day

 

 

now that I  “AM” my mother ( the very thing I spent my life resisting, don’t we all?) I totally “get” her and I want to tell her this.  Because now I understand and with this newfound understanding comes total and complete admiration for the woman that she was.  I want to tell her this but she is no longer here.  She is no longer here to hear my admission, my confession, my revelation.  How I long to reveal to her this newfound revelation of mine, (which has taken me quite by surprise) that we might revel in it together and share the joy of my discovery.  Yes, I am now my mother and that is not such a bad thing after all.

“Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.”  (Exodus 20:12)

sincerely,       Grace Day

is there someone strong enough to hold my heart, gentle enough not to crush it?