Tidbits: Comfort renewed, and links to boot

Do you remember this post? That's the one about the time God gave me a hug via rainfall...

Well, if you liked it then YOU'RE IN LUCK! Because for my Writer's Craft class, we were told to write about an intimate experience with Mother Nature, and that is the experience I wrote about. It's a smidgeon longer, but I think it's rather better. I was pleased with how it turned out...
So yeah. Here's a link: BAM! (If you go to the link, then you can scope my other stuff, too...nudgenudgewinkwink). And here it is, text-style:

My mom and I seem to be incapable of arguing with one another. This is not to say that we never argue, but rather that one or both of us will end up crying about it soon after. So when I say that after a particularly loud argument I stormed into my room, slammed the door, collapsed on my bed and began to sob, you will know that it was not an unusual end of a fight for me.
On this particular day, though, the argument seemed to be only the thing that tipped me over the edge. There were other things that were behind the tears—stress, homework, frustration, and hormonal unbalance from it being that time of the month again—and all of these causes together are what made a few minutes of angry tears turn into a half hour of gut-wrenching sobbing.
It felt like I had been holding tears inside of me and now that they had an exit, they were tearing out as quickly and as aggressively as they could. It frightened me, this savage way in which I was crying, and that made me sob even harder.
I curled up into a little ball on my bed, forehead pressed the cool, green surface of my wall, and choked down my heaves. You see, pride is an ugly thing. I had just argued with my mom, so even though I was no longer mad at her I didn't want her to comfort me, and she have would if she heard me cry.
But yet...I did. I did want my mom to come running to my side, to have her pull me into her arms, smooth my hair and tell me that it was alright, that she still loves me. What is it about a mother's embrace that is so inordinately warm and comforting? I craved that assurance, my friends, but my pride did not. My pride wanted nothing to do with her, and so I was alone in my misery.
I felt terrified of the silence that surrounded me outside of my cries, and even more terrified of the murmur of sounds outside my door. I'm not sure what was making me so scared, but my fear felt very real, regardless of how unreasonable it was.
Even the weather outside had lent itself to my mood, for as the day wore on the sky had clouded, then gone from fluffy and white to black, dark, and so typically brooding. Likewise, I had gone from cheerful to irritable and, as I said before, so typically brooding. I have no doubts that my mood had played a large part in the start of my argument, but that knowledge would not have been useful to me then.
I needed someone there with me so I silently called out to my Lord, but I was met by a stony silence. With that, I knew that I had been abandoned by everything I needed, everyone I needed. Another sob flew from my mouth and my stomach tightened. Was I really capable of creating such a guttural sound? I shivered. Now I was terrified of myself, too.
My fists clenched in tight little balls, I tried to curb my crying. I had indulged in this weakness for too long, and it needed to stop. Now. But try as I might, I couldn't make it stop. I didn't even know what I was crying about anymore, certainly not that argument. My grief was rooted deep, so I gave in and stopped fighting against it.
Through the hiccupping sound that echoed in my ears, I heard something. It was faint and barely perceptible, and I had just chosen to ignore it when I heard it again, louder this time. I listened closer then swallowed hard, because it was a beastly sound, like an animal clawing to get in.
I racked my mind for what it could be. I live on the second floor, so whatever was clawing—beating, now—wasn't an idly curious passerby. This thing wanted in, badly, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I strained my ears to the sounds and curled even closer to my wall, instinctually protecting my underbelly and exposing my bony back. While I lay there waiting for hell-knew-what to finally break through my window, I realized exactly what was scratching so feverishly:
Rain.
Those angry clouds had finally released their torrents, slowly at first, then throwing it down with enough force to make my window rattle in its frame. They were so thick and dark that I couldn't tell if the sun had set or not.
Rain is an interesting thing for me. I find it mesmerizing, with its steady rhythm and occasional peals of thunder. During a summer downpour, I can often be found outside with my arms stretched out on either side of me and my face tilted up at the sky, welcoming the water. My dad sometimes asks me why I do this, and I patiently explain to him that the rain is so pure, so precious, that it feels like God is reaching down and hugging me. Dad doesn't usually understand what I mean once I say this, as he is a practical sort of person with little use for dreamy words. So he leaves me alone in the rain and I stand there, soaked to the bone and completely content. I don't need to be standing in it for this feeling to come; the mere presence fills me with this peace that flows to every extremity. And it always has this effect. Always.
Slowly, I came back to myself, and realized that I had stopped crying, first stopped by my fear, then kept away by my awe and fascination. The sharp, hurting sensation had fled my chest and I no longer felt like was going to suddenly start sobbing uncontrollably all over again.
I began smiling as I realized, then, that I hadn't been ignored. I hadn't been abandoned. I had needed a hug desperately, and that prayer was answered in a completely different way from what I was expecting. But in its sudden, unanticipated arrival, that rainy hug soothed me more than any sought-after comfort could have done.


:)
~Godspede

P.S. My DeviantArt page's link is ever-present...just click on the tab at the top of this page that says "Links you might like" and it's under there.

Tidbit: Luther

I've stated this before, but for the sake of this particular blog post I'm going to restate it: I'm a Lutheran.
A Lutheran? you might ask, What's a Lutheran?

I love this question because of the beautiful answer I get to give. You see, the founder of my religion was a German fellow by the name of Martin Luther. Luther was a Catholic priest, and one day while he was looking through the Bible for his next sermon he came across a passage that read, "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast" (Eph. 2:8-9). He wondered to himself why he had never heard that passage before. And with that, he decided to nail 95 Theses to some church doors and began the Protestant Reformation.

This is the great thing about Christianity. You don't have to be a perfect saint for your entire life in order to go to Heaven; you could realize at the end of your life that God is great and wish that you had been a saint. And that realization, that wish... they're your salvation....

~Godspede

Muses: Poetry

Poetry? Poetry.
What I love about this poem is that the first three stanzas were scribbled on a piece of paper and stuffed into my bag. I found it nearly a month later, and I thought for a moment then wrote the last two stanzas. I then tucked it away and found it a year later, and chuckled at my giving advice to myself.
This poem is also on my DeviantArt page, and it's just called Untitled. The link to my DA page is always under the tab labelled "Links you might like" at the top of the page.

Moving up while looking down
Smiling face when heart's a frown.
Steady grip; spinning head
Empty laughter, emotions dead.

Falling over, faces high
Lightness shining, dark is nigh.
Parts of mind left buried deep
Depths of soul you're forced to keep

Keeling over in midst of day
Grimly show you're not okay
People pray it's not too late
How will you accept your fate?

Discuss your problems. Face the fear.
Duck the evil! Keep love near.
Follow paths and ride the dreams
See the 'full life' for all it seems

Trust the instinct. Burn your doubt.
Smile and mean it, never pout.
Respect your mom and honour your dad.
Live all the goodness; laugh at the bad.

~Godspede

Visions: Music

So, I'm not a particularly skilled songwriter. I do, however, have a trained enough ear to pick out melodies from music. This sheet just has the vocal line which I tend to copy out first, and then next I copied out the piano line. I like the way the picture turned out, though.

~Godspede

Muses: Lovers

Early today, I got to thinking about my multitude of lovers.
I know what you're thinking: Seriously, chicka, I didn't need to know that. I don't want to hear about your intimate life. But you're thinking of the wrong lover.
I once wrote that we have different kinds of lovers in our life. There are the lustful lovers, the ones who sleep together and don't actually love each other in any way. Then there's the lovers who are still lustful, but also have a lot of love for each other.
Then there's the kind I was thinking about: the kind who just have a lot of love. Those people are who make the world go 'round, don't you think? They are the ones who form, essentially, your safety net. They catch you once you fall, and they tell you some of the things you want to hear but all of the things you need to hear.

In this sense, I have lots of lovers.
I've got my family, which is huge and amazing... it consists of my mom, dad, five brothers, three sister-in-laws, one niece, and one nephew. They all support me extensively, and no matter how nuts they drive me I wouldn't trade them for the world.
I've got my best friend, who puts up constantly with all my nonsense and who has an endless fountain of happiness and support whenever I need it. I'm so glad we discovered each other as friends, because there are times when she is the sole reason I can smile and carry on. And I've got my other friends, the relatively new, exciting kind, where every moment you're discovering something new about each other.
And of course, I've got my Father and His Son, who love me so unconditionally that I can't even begin to explain its depth.

And this? This brings me comfort. 'Cause I, like everyone at some point in their lives, am terribly insecure. There are times when I sit down and feel worthless. At those points, I seek out my lover and I give them a big hug. Because there's nothing more comforting than a hug, right? Hugs remind me that these people, they love me for who I am.
But sometimes these people aren't around for a hug. So I sit there wallowing in my lack of self-worth, until I remember that I've forgotten two very big People. And so I pray. It's usually a short one, something along the lines of Hey God, it's me again. I feel like dirt today, and I've probably done everything wrong in your book. Is it actually possible for you to still love me?
And then I experience something that I can honestly only describe as a Heavenly Hug. It's like that sensation of drinking hot chocolate on a freezing Canadian winter day, where this warmth floods your entire body and makes you smile.

So I got to thinking about my lovers today. Have you ever sat down and thought of them? If you did, I think you'd be surprised. And comforted.


~Godspede

Muses: Love of a Child

You know that nephew that I keep mentioning? Well, I don't know if I've mentioned before that he has a little sister... but he does. He's four, and she's two. The little dear has formed an attachment to me. I'm not sure when this happened, to be honest, but it's awesome 'cause she's the sort of child who loves to be snuggled and cuddled.
So yes. Today's story, my children, takes place on New Year's Day. I was at my brother and sister-in-law's for a nice family dinner. When I got there with my mom, dad, and two of my other brothers, I was told by my sister-in-law's mother that my niece had been eagerly waiting for me to arrive. Once she saw me, she ran over to me and demanded to be held. For the rest of the evening she wanted to be by my side, playing with her uncles and baby-talking with her Nana, but always making sure I was within eye-shot. When her bed-time came, she refused to let her mom brush her teeth or put on her pyjamas... Aunty had to. And when the time came for her to be tucked in, she didn't want Mommy or Daddy to do it... Aunty had to. So I went upstairs and put her in her crib.
She didn't lie down, like she usually does once you place her in there. She stood instead, holding on to the railing and saying my name in her soft little voice: "Aunty... Aunty...".She's never done this before and I babysit for my brother often, so I knelt in front of her and asked, "What's wrong, sweetie?"
She looked at me, then threw her arms around my neck, buried her face into my shoulder, and started sobbing. "Aunty, don't leave! Don't go! Stay!"
I was kind of stunned speechless. Having a little, beautiful two-year old cling to you like that, well, it breaks your heart. But I couldn't take her out and indulge her... I was going home soon, and it was way past her bedtime. So I told her that I'd stay there until she fell asleep, and that I loved her lots and lots and that I knew she was sleepy (she had been falling asleep in my arms)... after a lot of that sort of convincing, she lay down on her bed and let me tuck her in, sniffling occasionally but looking incredibly tired.

I felt like such a villain when I shut off the light and left the room. All that my poor little niece knew was that her Aunty wasn't staying with her, and now she was all alone in a little room. She didn't understand something, though; she wasn't old enough to understand the one thing that makes me feel safe enough to fall asleep at night.
All that she knew was that she was alone, but what she didn't realize was that... she wasn't. She never is. Yes, her mommy and daddy were downstairs, but there was Someone upstairs for her, too. Someone that would provide all the comfort and protection she'll ever need in her life.

~Godspede