Heart

And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart:

Deuteronomy 6:6

'Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is s fighting some kind of battle.' ======================================================================= A sharp tongue can cut my own throat. If I want my dreams to come true, I must not oversleep. Of all the things I wear, my expression is the most important. The best vitamin for making friends..... B1. The happiness of my life depends on the quality of my thoughts. The heaviest thing I can carry is a grudge. One thing I can give and still keep...is my word. I lie the loudest when I lie to myself. If I lack the courage to start, I have already finished. One thing I can't recycle is wasted time. Ideas won't work unless ' I ' do. My mind is like a parachute...it functions only when open. The 10 commandments are not a multiple choice. The pursuit of happiness is the chase of a lifetime! It is never too late to become what I might have been. Life is too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you right.. Forget about the one's who don't. Believe everything happens for a reason. If you get a second chance, grab it with both hands. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it. Friends are like balloons; once you let them go, you might not get them back. Sometimes we get so busy with our own lives and problems that we may not even notice that we've let them fly away. Sometimes we are so caught up in who's right and who's wrong that we forget what's right and wrong. Sometimes we just don't realize what real friendship means until it is too late.

The House That Love Built

Through wisdom is an house builded; and by understanding it is established:
Proverbs 24:3

Walking up the steps of the long front porch I remember.Remembering the beginning stages of my young life, and the house that love built.Just like watching my father pour and form the concrete,my childhood took time to be mixed and poured to take the shape God wanted.But now I see where the concrete has cracked and chipped.Blazing summers and cold merciless winters have left their mark.Yet,it remains.A testament to my father's craftsmanship.I remain,cracked and chipped though.A far cry for the young boy I was.

That cement when it was poured was strong and tough.As it dried out and cured it got harder.So is a young man in his prime.I bend down to look at the handprints.One is mine,and one is my brothers.I look at my hands,and they are all that remain of that time.He is gone on to be with Dad and mine are left scarred and bruised from years of work and worry.

Foundations hold up a house,just like memories hold you up in times you feel alone.

Circling around the corner I see a tree.Underneath that old oak tree,my favorite dog is buried.And that tree could be seen from my small back bedroom window.I was excited to watch the walls go up on the house.I ran and played through the frame of the house.Playing chase in the maze of boards.Trying to find each other in our little game of hide and go seek.Dad looked up with his hammer in his hand and smiled.Realizing what he was working so hard for.Nail by nail,and board by board he built the house that built me.

Walls seperate and doors hide us from each other.Sometimes I don't when to stop building up around me.Entering into house,down the hallway to my room,I hear my mother's voice.She calls out for me to leave the door open to my room, so she can hear me if I need her while we played.As I became an independent minded teenager,I wanted the door shut cause I had it all worked out.The older I got the more I realized with each hand I let go,I felt a door shut that I couldn't leave open anymore.I wish to God I had more time to leave more doors open.But time is just finite.I shut more doors with my mouth than I leave open...

I look for myself among the things that this old house has stored in it.I go from room to room searching for me.I thought if I could just touch something or feel it,the brokenness inside me might start healing.I got lost in this big,old world and forgot who I am....

Is who I am,lost in here somewhere?

I walk outside and glance at the sky.Clouds roll by.Taking forms and shapes in a child's imagination.Looking upward I saw my Dad working on the roof.He waved down at my brother and I while we played in the front yard.I stopped what I was doing and waved back.Now I look to that same sky and wonder how many times did my father look down from heaven and wave at me.But,I was too busy to even notice.

I expect to see my brother standing beside me waving up to him.But I stand here alone in this yard.My wife honks the horn and says it's time to go.I see my new life before with my children.I wonder if they will look back upon their days like this or have my past mistakes clouded that option?Only time will tell.

My journey has lead me down one of many paths in my soul.At the end of this path lies one of my fondest spots.The spot where the house that love built stands.

To be continued...
by
Lance Gargus

My Quilt

I have decked my bed with coverings of tapestry, with carved works, with fine linen ...

Proverbs 7:16

As I faced my Maker at the last judgment, I knelt before the Lord along with all the other souls.Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles; an angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life. But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes. Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in every day life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all. I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color andthe bright hues of worldly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened. My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air. Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth. The others rose; each in turn, holding up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been. My angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise. My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life, and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness, and wealth, and false accusations that took from me my world, as I knew it. I had to start over many times. I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me. And now, I had to face the truth. My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was. I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light.An awe-filled gasp filled the air. I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes. Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, the face of Christ. Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes. He said, "Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles. Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you."May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through! God determines who walks into your life....it's up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go."

Author Unknown

Catacombs

I know thy works, and where thou dwellest, even where Satan's seat is: and thou holdest fast my name, and hast not denied my faith, even in those days wherein Antipas was my faithful martyr, who was slain among you, where Satan dwelleth.

Revelation 2:13

A Christian without trials would be like a mill without wind or water. What place should we have for patience, meekness, readiness to forgive, if we had nothing to try us? -John Newton


The catacombs underneath Rome is where the first Christians buried their dead and held their worship services. It was a network of tunnels that hid them in 1AD-5AD from the Roman authorities. The tunnels are filled with early Christian symbols of lives persecuted for what they believed and were willing to die for. Among the dead martyrs bodies are many stories. Some untold, only known by God, others we have the honor of knowing. Here is one such story.


In the catacombs, one day, this Christian who had been sobbing in great sorrow for the loss of his wife went underground to the catacombs. In search of comfort for his aching heart. He walked down the descending stairs with each step heavy. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs he wrote on the wall. He left a message for his beloved wife. Wishing her now a joyful life.


"Sofronia vivas cum tuis"(Oh, Sophronia, may you live with your dear ones).


Traveling on past the stairs, he pauses for a moment. He thinks of her and her new life with our Lord. This time with a shaking hand he scribbles her name. With tears in his eyes he writes his message:


"Sofronia, vivas in Domino" (Oh, Sophronia, may you live in the Lord).


With each step his faith grows stronger that he will see her again. His heart beats faster as he pauses once again. This time in a cubicle on the side of an arcosolium. His hand more steadier, he writes his note:


"Sofronia dulcis, semper vives in Deo" (O sweet Sophronia, you will live forever in God).


At last, he has found him a place to rest. Crying so bitterly along the way, his eyes have become reddened. He doesn't cry for her. But, for himself does he weep. Awaiting for the glorious day, when he shall join her. Hope now springs up in him like a gushing fountain. Love overflows from his heart and he writes now with blessed assurance of the resurrection promised by our Savior:



"Sofronia, vives..." (Yes, Sophronia, you will live).


It is a wonderful expression of human love transcended from this world to the next life. The love they shared for each other and for Christ would continue on. It's a love story of believers. Their assurance that they will see each other again. And his devotion to her and Jesus is truly moving. He acknowledges where both his true loves lie. And he knows and believes that the Lamb has made a way for him to see her once again.


By Lance Gargus