She Could Have...

She could have kicked herself for allowing the voices of so many to dictate her life.

'What shall I do?' She would ask.

'Do this, Do that' was the response.

She could have kicked herself for not following her heart, instead letting the words of others shape her next step.

'Is this the right thing? Is the wrong thing?' She would ask.

'This is better for you, and this is not the way' was the response.

She could have kicked herself for being so young and impressionable and allowing others to take control of her life.

'Do this, do that' They would say.

'OK' was her response.

She could have kicked herself for having so many regrets. Wanting to take back all the wrongs and make them right again.

Hoping to have done things a little better and listened to her Inner Voice a little more.

She actually did try to kick herself - if you could ever do such a thing - as she steadied herself against a wall and stuck out her left foot ready to strike her right. Trying to gain her balance, she instead lost it, and fell onto the floor in a heap.

Arms outstretched she waited for Him to pick her up.

And He did. He held her hand and picked her up and held her close as He revelled in the fact that the apple of His eye had reached out for Him. Her hope was no longer in others, only in Him.

She had forgotten the Lord was one of restoration and redemption. For the years the locusts had stolen were surely to be returned to her. She held Him close and submitted to His love.

She could have kicked herself...

But thank God, she wasn't even able to do that.

Knock, Knock, Knock

The little boy knocked on the the door of his next door neighbor. He bit the nail from his forefinger and chewed on it viciously.

Knock, knock, knock.

''Yes, can I help you dear?'' a women with a warm face looked him up and down, then smiled back at him from the open door way.

''Yes'', the little boy replied. ''Is Marcus home please?''.

The warm face disappeared and a little while later, a neat and trim looking blonde haired boy appeared at the door. He stood with his hands in the pocket of his blazer and his chest puffed out.

''Oh it's you''. Marcus's face twisted into a sneer. He stared at the boy's scruffy hair and untied shoelaces and chewed fingernails.

''Um, I was wondering if you could help me please'' the little boy replied. ''I heard you're the best when it comes to fixing broken toy cars''. He held out his toy car, with bits and pieces in his hands.

The little boy sat in the middle of his front room fiddling with his toys.

''Are you ok son?'' his mother asked. ''Didn't you go over to get Marcus to help you with that?''.

''I did'' the little boy replied. ''But he slammed the door in my face''.

''Go over there tomorrow, maybe he was busy'' the little boys mother hugged him close.

The next day, the little boy went knocking at his neighbour's door again. He chewed on his nails again relishing his comfort.

Knock, knock, knock.

He waited for Marcus to appear. He was presented with a high raised eyebrow and then a warm smile from the woman that opened the door, then a sneer for a smile from Marcus when he appeared.

''What's wrong son?'' the little boy's mother asked as she saw her son fiddling with his broken toy.

''He did it again'' her son replied. I guess the door may be able to help me''?

''Don't give up son'' his mother replied. ''Go try again''.

The next day, the little boy stood at his neighbour's doorstep. He twiddled his fingers together and held out his broken toy when the door was opened in response to his knocking. Again, he was met with a look and then a smile from the stranger, then a sneer from Marcus.

The little boy did the same thing for 10 whole days, and each day he got the same response...until...at last...

''Oh for goodness sake!'' Marcus exclaimed. ''Here, I'll help you. If not, you'll never leave me alone will you?''
______________________________

Have you knocked at a door and felt like there was no answer. You're rap rap rapping only left your knuckles sore? Have you felt that you were less than what you were because of the way some body viewed or looked at you, because you thought you weren't even worthy to knock on that door?

Persistence and perseverance will get you somewhere. Someone, at some point is bound to hear you knocking.

So don't give in, don't give up, just keep on! - Thank God that He has ears.

Luke 11: 5-10

Ideology Versus Reality

It's a funny world we live in don't you think?

We often base our success, feelings, self worth and present circumstances in conjunction with the world's ideology.

We look in the mirror and we hope to see something different.

We can take the words that somebody has said, we can look at the life that somebody lives, and we say - yes this is what it has to be.

So then we find that we often strive to reach and break through a glass ceiling...that maybe should really never have been there.

So easily, we can look at our lives thus far, and say 'no, this wasn't how it was meant to be'. Or we can look further still and say 'they do it this way, it works, so yes, I will follow'. We can look further still to say 'Oh gosh, I need to fix up'.

Take a simple analogy. I used to hate the way I looked. My body was all wrong, my eyes were too big, I bit my nails, my hair wasn't long enough, my skin wasn't even enough. Everything about me I thought was horrendous. I would often see beauty adverts promoting the need to look a certain way in order to feel that you were 'worth it'. The hair adverts, the skin adverts, the diets adverts...

I wouldn't vocalise it, but my thoughts were 'yes, yes, that is what I want!!'.

Ideology presented itself as being all about how the outside self presented itself, if there was any difference to be made.

Now don't get me wrong, I think keeping oneself groomed is good, after all, our body is a temple, and any girl that is a girl...and any guy that is a guy wants to look good. But problems would always arise because comparisons were being made to this ideal image one was meant to live up to.

Teenage girls crying in their rooms because they were called fat, spotty boys secretly using face creams to clear the problem,attacking their T- Zone (now don't act like that wasn't you), problems arising because the image that was so focused on the outward was to be greatly attained.

All because...the world says so...

So here's a new stance:

Love who you are, no matter what the world says. Love who you are no matter if you fall short of the ideal or the ways of the world....

Who says short hair cant be loved in comparison to the long locks of L'oreal endorsed models, or the faces on a hair relaxer box with the weaves to match?

Who says short stubby nails cant be accepted in place of silicone long wonders added in the beauty nail shop.

Who says extra curvy can't be as attractive, more than the toothpick on a stick on a catwalk?

The world, and it's Ideology, does not define you...!

Only God does!

:)

Diamond In A Coal

She had many expectations, but many of which she had over looked, and many others she had surpassed.

But it was her eyes...

Her eyes were a mirror of the glint from the diamond that she knew was hers.

In the midst of her expectations and within the diamond glint that came from the mirror of herself...

She saw...

A coal in the midst of a mass.

That which she always assumed was herself.

She heard the workers all around her, huffing and puffing, heaving and weaving, in and out.

Working hard in the dirty coal miners cave.

That which she saw,

Was to exemplify that which the eye would overlook.

For in that which she was searching for, the dirty coal miner began his work.

But he found that which he knew would hold a diamond in an eye...

or more so... a diamond in her eye.

In the midst of her expectations and within the diamond glint that came from the mirror of herself...

She saw...

A coal surrounding a diamond.

Her eyes were a mirror of a glint from the diamond that she knew she was.

Ecstatic she was, when the dirty coal miner handed her the diamond that rested in her eyes.

A Thought To Remember

In her mind there was a plethora of thoughts.

She cast them aside as she looked to that which was on hand.

The practicalities.

The balance of thoughts and practicalities.

She said one thing, but she thought another. She thought one thing, but did another.

The balance of her thoughts were presented upon a silver platter, with a divine menu to match.

Her spiritual self cried out and screamed.

Then she remembered, He who was, and is and is to come turned water into wine.

Cupid's Arrow

New Years Eve - 2010

Charlotte stood amongst a crowd of people, shivering as the cold began to work itself into her bones. She pulled her coat tighter around her and shuffled from one foot to another trying to ease the numbing pain that had began to grace her feet. She tipped up onto the toes of shoes and craned her neck every so often to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on.

She had always preferred to spend New Year's Eve at home with a couple of friends reminiscing about the year before, wondering how this year could be better. Charlotte disliked the yobs and the strangers that felt they had a right to breathe all over you. But this year her good friend Adele had told here that there was absolutely somebody that she had to meet, a certain guy called Quinn who Adele was sure would light up Charlotte’s life.

''This is crazy.'' Charlotte mumbled to herself. ''I don't even know why I’m out here!!''. She groaned as the rose she had decided to wear in her hair fell out from behind her ear. She picked it up and plucked it back into place. She bit her lip to stop herself from kicking her own shins at totally abandoning her usual night in and succumbing to Adele’s idea of a 'great night out'. Well, actually, she knew why she had ventured out. Adele’s proposition of meeting up with Quinn had caught Charlotte’s attention. She figured she could do with something different in her life. But knowing life, and knowing Adele, it would most probably be a date for disaster.

''Silly rose!'' Charlotte scowled as the flower fell out from her hair again. She positioned it back behind her right ear. After pondering whether to actually get up off the sofa and get ready to go out to the London Eye, were there was a scheduled exquisite firework display to celebrate the New Year - and finally making it there, Charlotte had lost her friends after a drunken mob had insisted on walking through the crowd hand linked, challenging anyone that stood in their way to try and break them up. She had stumbled and fell under the affront, and after she had picked herself up, she found herself looking around her, totally lost and alone amongst a sea of excited New Year Goer's blowing vuvuzela’s and popping party poppers.

''You really should have worn something a little warmer if you're that cold'' a voice whispered in her ear. Charlotte jerked back and turned to see a handsome man looking back at her. He had closely cropped hair and a fitted tan leather jacket on that complimented his tan shoes and jeans. Un-phased by his appearance, she smirked at him and turned her attention back to trying to keep warm and finding her friends.

The voice whispered in her ear again ''Your fr….''. Before he could finish his sentence Charlotte had jutted her elbow out. She turned to see the man huddled over clutching his stomach.

''Serves you right!'' She shouted at him. She turned and wove her way into the crowd.

She peered left and right, fighting to get through the crowd to find her friends. She was ready to leave now and head home if she had no luck in her search. She felt a vibration in her handbag and reached down to find the source. With her phone in her hand she saw Adele’s picture grinning at her as her number rang through to Charlotte’s phone.

''Adele where are you?'' Charlotte answered the phone sharply. ''I'm here all on my own with strange people talking to me, I'm ready to go now to be honest''.

''Wait a sec Char, where are you?'' Adele asked. ''Meet me by the burger stand, there's a guy with a red hat on stilts, you should be able to spot him a mile away.''

Charlotte stood waiting, grasping her coat close to her and shuffling from foot to foot. She was tempted to buy a burger, but at £5.50 for one she declined. She stared at the guy on stilts balancing his red hat as he prepared to do a handstand. She breathed out restlessly and made patterns out of the frosty breath that came out of her mouth.

''Nice pattern you’re blowing there''. A voice called in her direction. Charlotte turned to see the good looking short cropped haired guy with the tan jacket and jeans that she had elbowed not so long ago. He was standing from afar.

''I didn't want to get elbowed again, so I figured I would keep my distance''. He held up his hands in surrenders as he smiled warmly at her.

''Oh gosh, not you again!'' Charlotte cried out, ''Won't you just leave me alone?'' She turned and started to walk away as the stranger walked over and grabbed her arm gently.

'Hey, hold on for a minute'' the guy replied. ''Sorry if I scared you before, I was just trying to let you know that Adele had spotted you from afar and she had sent me to get you. I guess I didn't really do much to let you know I was part of the gang''. Charlotte looked at him puzzled.

''You know Adele?'' she asked.

The guy nodded and grinned, ''Yeah.'' He stretched out his hand in a handshake ''I'm...''

''Finally, we found you!'' Adele cried running up to Charlotte with a few friends in tow interrupting the guy in mid flow. ''Girl, where did you get to? One minute you where there, the next you weren’t, and we were looking all over for you, I even sent Quinn to come and look for you. I told him to look out for the girl with the red rose in her hair.''

Just like Adele to speak a word a second. Charlotte hugged her, glad to be back with her friends.

''This is Quinn?'' Charlotte asked. She looked down at the floor embarrassed by her behaviour.

''Not to worry'' Quinn replied, ''It was a reaction to be expected. I didn't mean to scare you.''

''Do you guys know each other?'' Adele asked. ''Charlotte this is Quinn, the guy I wanted you to meet.''

''Oh yes, we've met'' Charlotte smiled. We were well acquainted''.

_______________________________________

New Years Eve 2011

''Wasn't that some new year?'' Charlotte laughed at Quinn. ''Who would have thought.''

''Yeah, who would have thought?'' Adele chimed in, ''That I would make the perfect Cupid!''

Charlotte and Quinn laughed as they held up their glasses.

''Here is to Quinn and Charlotte on their engagement!'' Adele toasted.

''Now,'' Adele raised an eyebrow. ''Cupid could also play the role of a bridesmaid right?'' She winked at Charlotte as they all laughed.

''Happy New Year!'' They cried in unison.

For The Days Ahead

So it's that time again, where we say goodbye to yesteryear and get ready to embrace the new year. 2010 may have been eventful, some may have enjoyed it immensely, some not so much, but no doubt it will leave mixed memories of both good and bad, tough challenges and easy escapes.

The beginning of 2010 was one where so many vowed to see many changes, and now it's that time again as we enter into yet another new year. I pray that all you have been waiting for, things you wanted to see but haven't yet will begin to come into fruition this new year. Any setbacks that we may face, let us see it as simply a mountain that we can move, any obstacles we face will be those we can step over, and face that which is truly ours to experience.

May it be a good year for us all.

God bless!

***************

FOR THE DAYS AHEAD

For the days run into one another like the heavy rainwater mixed with the dirt on the side road

The beginning of a promise to say no to the little turns into a sprint to say yes to so much

The weeks run into each other like dominoes falling on top of one another

The excuse of 'just one more day' leads to a lifetime of never to be's

The months run into each other like water and shampoo when washing one's hair

There is no longer a distinction between a mind made up or a mind indecisive

The years run into one another like the beginning of time until the end of eternity

There is no longer the knowing of the difference between yesterday and tomorrow

The new year is ahead, and there presents a chance to start all over again.

Merry Christmas!

Wishing you all an absolutely wonderfully delightful Christmas time! :)x

May it be a time to not only eat drink and be merry, but to be thankful for the little things, and be prepared for bigger and better things which are to come.

It may have been an extremely difficult year for you, numerous prayers unanswered, not seeing what you wanted to see, things seemingly getting worse, rather than better. It may have been an extremely amazing year, experiencing all that you had ever asked and more.

Season by season we live, so prepare. Whatever your season may be, enjoy the moment you are in, always in fervent hope and expectation for more than what you have right now, for that which exceeds your unanswered prayers and imagined desires and your dreams, and that which you have already seen, and not seen.

If you are alone right now, I pray that God would comfort you first, then send others to you to replicate His source. If you are basking in the delight of family and friends, enjoy and thank God that He is good.

Thank you Father God, for the birth or our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, that through Him, the world may not be condemned, but instead be saved. Thank you for Him who gave His life away in the form of love.

Merry Christmas!!

Her Tears Fall

Her tears fall because she looks deep into the eyes of another and feels their pain

The suggestion of another makes her feel that she must do, rather than feel free to do what has been suggested

Bound by the words of another according to their own standards and conviction

Her tears fall because her heart connects with another heart and knows when it skips a beat

The effort made to be the void of the skipped heartbeat goes unnoticed, because she does not have the capacity to be the void

Her efforts are clouded by one that believes their efforts are more

Her simple gesture to be there for another is brushed aside by her best not being enough

Yet her tears fell because she looked deep into the eyes of another and felt their pain

She did what she knew to do rather than what must be done

Freed by the ability to live by His standards and His conviction

Her tears fell because her heart connected with another

The skipped heart beat was met with the fullness of Him

Clouds disappeared because her efforts were applauded by Him the moment she tuned into His voice

Her simple gesture was simply enough according to the One that matters the most

I Saw Santa!

A little seasonal fun, for the kids and for you.

********

It was a cold winter’s night. Freda looked out her window and marveled at the pure white snow flakes, each a pattern of its own, as they made their way down to cover the ground below in a beautiful blanket of untouched beauty.

It was definitely Christmas time. The snow confirmed it. As she stared at the beauty of the frozen raindrops, Freda was amazed to see what looked like Santa's sleigh headed by his reindeer flying through the sky. She looked closely, she was sure Santa had just winked. Freda shook her head and looked again. Silly girl, it was just an airplane…and a star! What an imagination she had!

Freda had been looking forward to this the whole year since the last. Last year there had been no such beauty, the snow was reluctant to make an experience. Last year there had been no added extras.

''Where is Santa?'' She cried as she saw her mother putting up the stockings filled with goodies, sweets galore. “I thought Santa was supposed to put those there?” Her Mother had flushed red in the face as she realised she had been caught out.

''Is Santa even real?'' Freda asked.

School friends had told her stories of how the big jolly man clad in red was actually a fiction of the imagination.

''Grow up would you?'' They teased when Freda talked about him. ''Santa doesn't exist. Santa is Dad's dressed in red!''

Freda slowly began to believe their words as year after year she saw no sign of Santa. It was fine seeing him on TV and at the local shopping mall, but what about in real life, in her home…? She eyed her Father up and down suspiciously as he made his way out one day.

''I know your game Daddy dearest!'' She pointed a knowing finger at him. ''You can’t fool me! Going to get that red Santa suit ready huh?!''

Climbing down from her window and out of her room on that cold winter’s night, Freda crept downstairs and sat on the stairway. She had decided to hold a vigil all night to see what really was the truth. As much as she had heard from her friends, she had to prove her growing doubt of this so called Santa.

Lost in between sleep sitting on the stairway, Freda was suddenly awakened by a noise. She pulled herself up along the banister and heard some unusual activity downstairs. She climbed a little further down the steps and there she saw it.

Right by the fireplace!

Big fat legs clad in red…..She saw her Father's, Santa clad make believe big fat padded Santa suit legs sticking out from the fireplace!

Freda remembered the white beauty that lay outside. At least there would be one Christmas memory of something that was real.

She stopped, and paused for thought. ‘’But...what if…?’’ What an idiot she was!

She laughed out loud and cried out.

“Mum! Daddy's coming through the chimney!”

Freda expected to see her Mother come running out, instead she saw her Father standing at the top of the staircase.

''What is all the noise?'' Her Father cried, rubbing his eyes from the interrupted sleep. ''What are you playing at young lady?''

Freda stared at her Father, she was left dumbfounded and confused.

“Daddy?” She questioned. “But Santa…?” She said weakly pointing to the fireplace. Freda’s father held her close and patted her head.

''Sshhhh, sweetheart, It's OK,'' Daddy understands, and Daddy loves you very much''.

Freda continued to point at the fireplace, but there was nothing there. No big fat padded Santa clad legs climbing down the chimney. No nothing.

Freda went back to her room. Her Dad tucked her in wiping away the tears running down her face.

She woke up with a start in the morning, looking out of the window she was glad to see the snow was still there, the blanket of beauty. Had she dreamt it all?

But Freda remembered the night before.

''Santa!'' Freda whispered into the curtains as she looked out of the window. ''Daddy wasn’t you! So you are real!''

Fast asleep in la la land, Freda had not seen the rest of the story unfold.

She had not seen her Father run down the stairs after he had put her to sleep, and pull her Mother out from the fireplace. Freda didn't see her Mother dressed in a red padded Santa suit fall out from the fireplace.

''We got her good didn't we?'' Her mother preened.

''Oh yes'' Her Father replied. ''At lest she still believes in Santa!

Good thing Freda hadn’t seen Daddy kissing Santa Claus. Now that would have really confused her! :/

********

Wishing you all a very Happy Christmas!

Whatever you may have planned for this season, I hope and pray that you are blessed immensely, and never forget, even if you do not believe or feel you are too old to believe, and those that do believe - know that Jesus loves you. x

A Christmas To Remember

Sarafina lay shivering on the cold concrete floor. Loud noises sounded all around her, as she pulled the tattered cloth that covered her closer to her tiny body. Her big brown eyes were shut, she preferred them closed.

She didn’t need open eyes when her ears could so easily tell of all that was going on around her, and with her eyes closed she could dream. She covered her short cropped hair with her tattered cloth and dreamed.

************

Rebecca stared up at the lights in awe and smiled. She flicked her long blonde hair in anticipation. The best thing about Christmas had to be the big beautiful lights.

She clapped her hands as the lights were turned on, and with a myriad of other spectators, her big blue eyes held pure wonderment at the beauty of the city of London swathed in bright twinkling multicolored lights that simply shone.

At night, Rebecca climbed into bed after being tucked in by her mother. A warm mug of chocolate milk and a biscuit, along with the memories of those magical lights put a smile on her face.

‘Don’t forget my quilt!’ Rebecca cried to her mother. Her mother rolled her eyes as she placed the quilt over Rebecca body.

‘That old tattered thing,’ her mother sighed. ‘May be time for a new one.’

Rebecca simply smiled as she smoothed her long blonde hair over her face, held her quilt close, and closed her eyes to dream.

************
Sarafina dreamed of a place that was clothed in happiness.

A big green tree, like the ones she had happened to see in the tattered children’s books that had been donated by so many. Her dream tree stood by a window and glittered, adorned with baubles of all shapes and sizes. Under the tree were a myriad of multi coloured gifts. She stared wide eyed, having never seen anything like it, the mountain of carefully wrapped boxes of all shapes and sizes stared back at her.

Sarafina saw a young girl bent low flicking her long blonde hair as she inspected the heap. The young girl held various boxes up to her face as she inspected them carefully, turning them around. Grunting, she threw each one back into the pile. Having found one that fit her expectations, the blonde haired girl clapped her hands merrily.

‘Here’s one that has my name on it!’ She smiled gleefully. She held the package in her hand and read the greeting card.

‘Rebecca, this is from me to someone very special. Love from Grandma. x’

Sarafina hid behind the shadows of the door so that the serene young girl she watched would not see her. She stared down at herself. Her clothes were blackened with dirt and decay, and she looked a mess. If this young blonde haired girl saw her, there would be much trouble no doubt. She would alert her family to the presence of an ugly looking dirty intruder. She did her best to hide behind the shadows.

Sarafina saw the young girl run over to her mother and tugged on her skirt.

‘Sweetheart, do mind? I'm trying to braise the turkey’. Her mother chastened.

The blonde haired girl peered from behind her mothers skirt and was astounded by the sight of the big pink bird that was being stuffed with garlic, onions and ginger.

‘Yuck!’ the young girl exclaimed. ‘What an ugly looking thing. Are we meant to eat that Mama?’.

Sarafina closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

The young girls mother smiled and continued to prepare an astounding meal of braised carrots, honey glazed parsnips, rice, baked salmon, fried chicken, steamed veg, Greek salad and so much more as Sarafina eyed the immense display.

Her mouth watered as she breathed in deeply. What she wouldn't do for a mouthful of one piece of a raw carrot.

The blonde haired girl skipped and clapped as she sang a song, happily watching her mother prepare all the food.

‘What a wonderful Christmas this will be,’ she sang.

Tears slid down Sarafina’s face as she yearned for just a memory of such abundance.

************

Rebecca tossed and turned. Her pillow was damp with perspiration as her brows furrowed together.

She was dreaming a dream of things she had never seen before.

She ran with sheer determination to reach the light that she saw ahead. She knew that the light was her safety.

Along the way she ducked and hid as buildings fell around her. The earth below her feet trembled and left her unsteady, yet she had nothing to hold on to as she fell to her feet amongst the chaos. She saw a man lying at her feet in front of her, she was no fool to know that he was clearly dead.

She continued to run, her long blonde hair flowed behind her. She was in stark comparison to her surroundings. She was aware that the white of her gown illuminated her very being. She ran even faster to find some shelter.

She spotted a cove, and ran deep into it. She lay on the floor and cowered, whimpering. She heard a sound and saw a girl sniffling, covered by an old tattered cloth. The girl's eyes were closed, sleeping, deeply in another world.

A tear rolled down her face as she watched the girl. The girls short cropped hair peaked out from beneath an old worn out cloth. As if aware of silent eyes upon her, the girl opened her eyes. Seeing the stranger next to her, and though she was cold and afraid, the girl was welcoming. She extended her old tattered cloth to invite the blonde haired stranger to share the covering.

Thankful Rebecca rushed forward and lay beside the girl who covered her in her cloth of comfort as they cowered at the heavy footsteps approaching, which grew louder by the minute. They both knew they were surrounded by danger, but did not know what to expect. One encased in dirt, the other illuminated by white clung to each other as they cried.

‘In here!’ A loud voice cried out. Footsteps approaching, another voice sounded, ‘Two bodies in here!’

Both girls were thankful when they were lifted and carried away, assured that they were in safe hands.

************

‘Merry Christmas!!’ Came forth the shouts.

Rebecca’s house was full of warmth and laughter. Auntie’s and Uncles, Cousins and friends all gathered together, singing carols, opening gifts, eating food and playing games.

She was quiet, unusual for her. The dream that she had the night before had left a lasting impression. Rebecca held up her gifts, and eyed the packaging, brightly wrapped, with bows and ribbons. That which she was so eager to open the day before no longer held the same attraction.

She opened one, the one that she had sifted out the night before and knew was from her Grandma. She read the greeting card again.

‘Rebecca, this is from me to someone very special. Love from Grandma. x’

Rebecca was moved to see a replica of the ‘tattered quilt’ her mother so hated. She held up the large, warm hand knitted quilted gift from her Grandma as she unfolded it and covered her body with it, indulging in its warmth.

'Your Grandma spent so much time knitting that quilt' Rebecca's Mother said. 'She was so young when she started it, it was even before you were born, and I was just little girl! But I can see her now, concentrating so hard. She always would say 'this is for someone very special!'

Rebecca smiled, a solemn smile as her big blue eyes stared at her gift. She knew what she had to do.

************
Sarafina sat smiling. She had been fortunate that she had been found in the cove. Her tattered dirty cloth had been replaced with hot warm towels as she was lifted up to safety.

She sat in the home of her Mother who had spent so long searching for her. Christian Aid had sent donations to Haiti after the earthquake had hit, and Sarafina was fortunate that she had survived the devastating experience, being able to enjoy the added extras. It had been a tearful and heart wrenching reuniting. She would always remember the girl that was sent to her. Blonde hair flowing, encased in light, the girl that held her close and offered comfort.

‘My angel in disguise.’ Sarafina had said.

'’Merry Christmas.’ Her Mother smiled at her handing her multiple gifts. ‘This was from a young girl that wanted to send a donation.’

Sarafina’s small fingers carefully unwrapped a brightly coloured gift to find a hand knitted quilt. She wrapped it around her and was ecstatic. She closed her eyes and indulged in the warmth and comfort it brought. She danced, and twirled and sang. She opened the card that came with it.

She knew exactly who it was from, for she had seen this girl in her dreams. Her Angel in disguise.

‘Merry Christmas for those less fortunate’ the card read.

‘Thank you for the covering you gave to me. This was intended for someone very special! Love the blonde haired girl. x'.

Blue Skies and White Swans

Macy felt weary as she walked, she paused to sit upon a park bench. She looked up at the sky through teary eyes, and could see grey skies and raindrops falling. She wiped the tears away from her eyes.

Rita came to sit beside her. She looked ahead and saw ugly ducklings in the pond.

A passer by stopped and stood. He looked up.

''How blue the sky is''. He said.

''What?'' Macy remarked. ''The clouds are heavy and the sky is grey, can you not see?''

''And look at those white swans,'' He continued. ''So beautiful to watch''.

''Swans?'' Rita replied. ''Swans are beautiful, I see only dirty, ugly birds''.

The passer by sat down upon the bench next to the two girls.

''I see nothing but blue skies, and beautiful swans'' He said.

Macy and Rita looked at each other. Although strangers, they had one thing in common - they were certain this guy was crazy.

''Now, now, I know you're thinking.'' The passer by intervened their thoughts. ''You're thinking I'm crazy right? But see, faith is the substance of hope, the evidence of things not seen''.

''Huh?'' Macy asked puzzled. ''The sky is grey''.

''And the ducklings are ugly.'' Rita pointed to the pond.

The passer by paused.

''I see that which is not before me, but that which is to come. The skies will be blue once the storm passes.

He stood and faced them. His face glowed.

''Though the clouds may seem to dominate,'' he continued, ''the sun will eventually break through. And as for these 'ugly' ducklings...the intention was not for them to remain so, rather a process. For they will grow to be as beautiful as they were intended.''

''Have a good day'', He smiled and walked away.

Macy turned to Rita.

''You know, I do see a little blue in the sky up there now that he mentioned it''. She mused.

''And those fleet of ducklings are being lead by a beautiful swan, no doubt they will follow suit?'' Rita replied.

How dark is your cloud? How heavy is the rain that falls on you? There shall be brighter days, and brighter tomorrows.

How unworthy do you feel, ugly, and unmentionable? The time will come, when you too will shine. Just at the sun shall shine through those dark heavy clouds and those ugly ducklings shall become swans.

Do you believe it?

Everything is made beautiful in its time.

Falling Leaves

Reds.

Browns.

Greens.

Reds and browns.

Mixed with greens.

Fresh green.

Reds and browns going through the dying process mixed with fresh greens.

Greens affected by the change, soon to change colour also.

Falling.

Falling reds.

Falling browns.

Falling greens.

Falling from the ones that held them.

Falling reds and browns mixed with falling fresh greens.

Sounding underneath the footsteps.

Reds, browns and greens, crying under the heavy load of heavy footsteps.

Naked.

The ones that held them, are now naked, in the winter.

After shedding the reds, browns and greens of its leaves.

Dying to itself, yet, still strong and standing.

Naked, waiting, within a rebirth.

In a new birth.

Of fresh new greens.

Only for a time.

Until the reds come falling

And the browns follow suit.

And the greens not ready, yet follow suit. Again.

Another new birth.

A regeneration.

Leaves on a tree.

The tree that held the ones that fell.

Winter to Spring, Spring to Summer, Summer runs into Autumn.

And then.

They begin all over again.

Reds.

Browns.

Greens.

Falling reds and browns.

Mixed with greens.

Fresh green.

All over again.

Moola and Kaye

Moola and Kaye stared at the strange being that lay before them. There the being lay on a long stretch of a cold metal bed.

''We cannot have her here for long Kaye'' Moola said sternly. ''Any prolonged absence that is longer than necessary may surely stir up some sort of conundrum''.

''Co-nun-drum?'' Kaye asked, swirling the newly accustomed syllables around in her mouth.

''Yes,'' Moola replied looking down at the dictionary in his hand. ''And this being here that lays before us, is what these so called human beans look like in the flesh''.

''I think you mean human beings' Kaye giggled.

''Yes, that's what I said you silly thing'' Moola retorted huffily. Inside their capsule, there was a kaleidoscope of colours and gadgets. He busied himself with connecting various gadgets to each other, then connected them to the girl that lay on the cold metal bed.

Moola connected two pods to the sides of Kaye's head, as well as his, then tapped the air in front of him with his finger. Instantly there appeared a screen which began to play various stages from the life of the girl that lay ahead.

''Maybe we can learn a little about these beans from this'' Moola said.

''Be-ings'' Kaye said playfully.

Moola and Kaye stared at the screen, their big orb eyes were wide and receptive, taking in all that they saw.

''What's that?'' Kaye asked. She pointed to the see-through liquid that ran down the girls face as she knelt before a coffin.

''That is called...tears''. Moola replied. He looked down at the book in his hand and turned it around speculating it. ''Yes, this book says, the name of this clear liquid is known as tears. It can appear because of acute sadness, and at times acute joy as emotions run wide, mostly in women...''

Kaye stared at the screen and saw the tears running down the girl's face.

''And this?'' Kaye asked. She observed something else as she saw the girl's face take on a particular shape.

Moola pulled the two corners of his mouth upwards and grimaced. ''This is a... smile, apparently''.

Kaye followed suit and pulled the two corners of her mouth up in a forced smile.

''Sch-mile'' Kaye said through a tightened face, fingers in her mouth. ''Ow, it hurts'' she said.

''Yes, when it's done that way, and so forcibly, I would agree it is rather uncomfortable.'' Moola said wryly.

The corners of Kaye's face twitched as she tried to smile without any help.

''What are you doing Kaye''? Moola asked. ''Surely you must know you look absolutely ridiculous''.

''You are, you are...a big...'' Kaye grabbed the dictionary from Moola's hands and scanned through it, ''...a big bah humbug!''

Moola sat smug, glad that he had accomplished what he had wanted.

They both stared at the screen as the girl smiled and sang, twirling ribbons around her and popping balloons.

Kaye twirled around trying to copy the girl in a somewhat awkward fashion.

''This is happiness apparently'' Moola said.

''And now this?'' Kaye pointed at the image ahead.

The screen showed the girl throwing things around her room and screaming with more tears.

''Apparently, when these beans...''

''Be-ings Moola!' Kaye interrupted.

''Yes, when these beeee-ings'' Moola over pronounced the word ''don't get their own way, they display extreme bouts of...um...extreme actions. She is apparently angry''.

''A-ha'' Kaye said enlightened. ''She is a lot like you at times Moola''. She smirked and blinked innocent wide orb eyes back at Moola as he stared back at her intently.

He chose to say nothing.

They stared back at the screen, as the girl hugged and greeted various people. She was dressed in a white flowing gown with a long veil covering her face.

''Now this?'' Kaye asked.

''Apparently...affection'' Moola replied. ''Some very strange thing where the beans'' he faltered and quickly looked sideways at Kaye, ''The beee-ings,'' He emphasised, ''Express heightened emotions of affection where there is love and happiness and a genuine care for one another. This is also expressed through embracing one another, otherwise known as 'hugging' ''.

Kaye took a step back, with her wide eyed orb shaped eyes, she stared at Moola. She took a step forward, did an awkward jig, and placed her arms around Moola's shoulder and patted his head.

''Affection''. Kaye said. ''Ah-fec-shun''.

''Err, ok'' Moola shrugged her off as he frowned.

''And this is 'sleep' '' he said clearing his throat and quickly turning back to the screen. They stared at the girl from the screen, eyes closed, wrapped up in bed fast asleep.

''Sleep''. Kaye repeated. ''Sa-leeep''.

She stared at the figure ahead of her. She walked over and leaned in close. She looked at the body that lay before her, eyes closed, lips unknowingly upturned.

''She is asleep''. Kaye turned to Moola as she pointed to the girl. ''And she is smiling''.

''Yes,'' Moola replied ''And it is now time for her to go back''.

''But I like her.'' Kaye replied. ''She has taught me so much''.

Moola pointed at the girl and immediately her body disappeared from the stretcher ahead.

"Where is she now?'' Kaye asked Moola.

Moola pointed, back to the screen. There the girl lay back in her bed, wrapped up, with a smile on her face.

Kaye turned to Moola as a tear slowly ran down her face.

''Kaye!'' Moola exclaimed slowly touching the clear liquid that ran down her face. ''You are picking up the emotions from these beans! Don't worry, we can pick another one tomorrow.''

Moola gazed at Kaye, his expression softened as he leaned in close and put his arms awkwardly around her, his face twitching as the corners of his mouth slowly turned upwards. ''She has taught me a lot too you know...''

''Will she be alright? Kaye asked, returning Moola's hug. The girl, had definitely made an impact.

''To her,'' Moola said, ''This would have all been a dream.''

__________________________________________________

The girl woke up startled in her bed. She shook her husband awake.

''What is it?'' he asked groggily.

'Honey,'' She said, '''I just had the strangest dream...''

His Eye Is On The Sparrow

He was silent and still, just lying there wrapped in his blanketed comfort. He heard the footsteps, he heard them getting closer and closer. These footsteps were different. Not the hurried kind of a myriad of people walking past him. He heard the mass walking past him every single day, he knew them so well. No, these footsteps had an agenda. They were walking straight at him.

She had seen him sitting there, in his usual spot. She would often walk past, just to see if he was still there. He always was, sat there, crossed legged, amongst the dirty London streets, with a dirty street corner for comfort. He had a dog by his side, and he would ruffle the mutts coat with dirt caked fingers. The mutt would moan, and cower and draw close to the hands he knew so well.

Cup extended, blanket shielding him from the cold winter air, he begged. To any and every passer by that walked past, he would hold out his cup and ask for a few pennies. He was never surprised that so many walked straight past him. Nor was he surprised when a few more would look at him with contempt. He was grateful for the few that threw in loose change.

Their views of him didn't stop him though. He would still hold out his empty cup, blanket wrapped around him, with his dog at his side. He wrapped his sleeping bag around him as he lay in the dirty street corner.

He was surprised when the footsteps drew closer. He could tell them apart now, even with his eyes closed.

The quick paced steps of one that was running late for an appointment. The hard and heavy steps of one that carried some weight and then some. The silent whisper of one in slippers, dancing along, the click click clock of one wearing heels either to impress or just to add some height.

As the footsteps drew to a close, he held his breath and drew his mutt closer. He was tired, and he didn't want to have to face any unwelcome attention. Today was the day he had destined himself to die.

No money.

No food.

No nothing.

The click click clocking of unknown footsteps were very audible.

'Excuse me sir?' A voice said.

He lay still, in the comfort of his blanket. He noted that the voice that spoke was a soft one. He peeked the top of his head over the cover of his blanket and looked to see who was speaking to him. He saw a pretty young girl, face made up, dressed well. She was short, and those heels that added height. He was always amazed at his accuracy.

'Excuse me, sorry to bother you while you were sleeping' the pretty young girl spoke softly. He lifted up his head and pulled the musty warm covers down from his head. The cold night air hit him hard, and he took in a fresh breath. He eyed the stranger standing before him. He spoke no words.

She handed him a package. 'This is for you' she said.

He continued to eye her up and down. Rarely would someone take the time to come out to speak to him, yet alone hand him something.

'Get away' he spoke gruffly. 'I'm homeless, but I don't do drugs, so no thank you'. He lay back down and pulled his blanket back over his head.

The stranger smiled as she set down the package beside him.

'This is for you'. She said as she turned and walked away.

He heard the click click clocking of her heels walking away. Certain that she had gone, he lifted his head and pulled back his covers to see what she had left behind. His nose immediately took in the hot welcoming smell that would always meet him from next door. A hot package of chicken and chips sat before him, with a note on top.

'Just thought you might like this, on a cold winters night'.

The Long Dark Road

To walk along a long dark road, with none other than the sounds of your footsteps

A moonlit sky that shadows the path ahead

To step upon a street with only faulty lights as a companion

An intermittent glow does none for reassurance

To glide upon the ice with no hand to hold you as you fall

A cold hard embrace and unsteady feet offers many more tumbles

To speak your mind as your heart hurts inside

A judgmental tongue does none to bring healing

To bear your soul and the mistakes endured

A self righteous being cannot understand the need

To seek the counsel of those that are wise

A foolish mind can not comprehend

To embrace the love of the one above

A heart material minded can not understand

To understand and accept that long dark road

A mind body and soul you must separate

To walk along a long dark road, with none other than the sounds of your footsteps

Know that there is one walking along side you

To step upon a street with only faulty lights as a companion

Know that there is a silent and steady companion beside you

To glide upon the ice with no hand to hold you as you fall

Know that your fall was limited by The Hand that held you

To speak your mind as your heart hurts inside

Know that there is One that can relate to you

To bear your soul and the mistakes endured

Know that you are not alone

To seek the counsel of those that are wise

Know that there is one that sticks closer than a brother

To embrace the love of the one above

Know that His love is beyond

The dark roads and the lonely footsteps

The shadows and the faulty lights

The cold embrace and the unsteady feet and

The hurt inside

Often the dark road will lead to

A moonlit sky that shows the path ahead

To walk along a long dark road, with none other than the sounds of your footsteps

It was not your footsteps you heard

But the one that carried you

A Beautiful Piece

So I've started knitting.

Now now, before you say anything, no, I'm not turning into an old woman. I am simply making use of time, as well being cost effect whilst adding a personal touch. I am simply knitting scarves for all my beloved as Christmas presents. Now, it's brave of me to even say that I am, lest I do not reach the desired outcome. But if one of my beloved were to receive a rather oddly knitted scarf, I say it is better than none at all.

Anyway, I was thinking back to my prime time years where school teachers encouraged kids to learn as much as possible. Having learnt how to read and play the violin, sing and dance, it was time for knitting. May I add I can still read, sing and dance, (I hope!?) as for the violin, well that's another matter, as for knitting, it is a Grandmother of attempts. My acquired friend the guitar stares at me from the corner it was banished to, un-tuned and un-played for quite some time...but that's another story.

So I'm trying to knit this scarf. I start of really well. I try a couple of basic stitches and it looks alright, I'm proud of myself if I must say so myself. But then I decide to try something little more complicated. If you can do the two-step, why not try the waltz? I decide to come out of my comfort zone and try some rather tricky new found patterns.

Knitting needles. Check. Wool. Check. Fingers and thumb. Check.

Courtesy of YouTube, I try this new complicated knitting pattern. Brows furrowed, toes curled in frustration, I continue.

''Frustration?'' some may say.

Yes.

Frustrated because this new idea of venturing forth into something new doesn't quite seem to be working out. I look at the work I have completed so far.

A hot mess. A big old hot mess of jumbled up wool trying to tell a story, but not quite even beginning. So frustrated am I, I grit my jaw and undo the the stitches and begin again.

Exasperated I am.

''Exasperated?'' some may echo.

Yes.

Exasperated, because after a second attempt, the wool pattern is still a big mess.... Again! A jumbled up mish mash of incoherent woolly nonsense. I sigh, as I pull out the wool and attempt again. Needles to the wool, I try that new complicated pattern...again....

And again....

And again.

A few rows in, and again, a complete shambles. I throw the sorry attempt across the room and frown. I invite you to enter into that place where I am in, a place where your attempts prove dismal, so much so, that frustration and exasperation can only follow. An attempt where failure and wrong are so well familiar, that you can only succeed and do right by giving in.

"What am I doing wrong?'' I ask.

Browsing Google sites for help, I come across a phrase that catches my eye. The phrase says:

''When you start to knit, it may seem like the pattern you are producing makes no sense, it may even come across as a mess. Continue. You will only see the desired pattern when you continue to knit further more''.

Bling!

Light bulb experience!

[cue deep throaty voice over: camera pans, soft focus, resting on intense deeply staring eyes]

Voice over: 'Lightning sounds and the air was still''...

Ok - slight exaggeration. But the light bulb did turn on...

So here's the thing...I had quit trying too early!! I had seen the 'mess' of my attempt and concluded that what would follow would be a mess, and so I gave up. I continued to read the phrase.

''Once you begin to knit more and more, you will see a pattern emerge, and what seemed to be a big mess, becomes a beautiful piece of art.''

So my mess of an attempt had actually been the attempt of something beautiful? It had only been what my minds eye could so far see? My minds eye and the whole picture sure do contradict themselves. (Comment if you agree on this one at least.)

I peer at the ball and wool I had thrown across the room. Picking it up, and looking at it somewhat apprehensive, I resume to knit.

And knit..

And knit. I stop for a break, take a look at the piece. In my hand was a beautiful knitted piece of wool!

''So whats the point of your story old lady''?

''Ahem. Excuse me?''

"Sorry...young lady...''

'Right..thank you.''

Basically...you may start off at something, and it seems like you are making a mess of your good intentions and frugal efforts. You may mess up, you may give give up. Persevere, see it through, because that which seems like a mess at first, will only be completed through your perseverance to reveal... a beautiful picture!

It is so easy to see the complications of a matter....but time taken to reflect, reveals the God given understanding.

''Huh? I don't get it.''

Ok...Just like the ball of wool taken by knitting needles were purposed for an end that was exquisite at the hands of one that knew exactly what to do......so were you made to assume the desired end of one that has your finished piece in mind.

''Ah-haa...I see...''

So, what are you aiming for? Do your attempts seem frugal? Do you question your own attempts? Continue to aim, the end picture is better than what the picture you see tells you.

Seeking direction? Continue to seek, though it may seem like there is not much you see, perseverance will prove that the finished picture is better than when you first began.

''What's the moral to your story then...ahem...young... lady''?

''Lol! The end is simply...a beautiful piece''.

She Who Was Imperfect

her smile was sweet and serene

yet on the corner of her mouth was a forgotten breadcrumb

her eyes were full of life, her make up accentuated them

yet her mascara ran and left dark circles under her eyes

her attire was one that was sharp and pristine

yet on her feet her shoes were scuffed and beaten

her skin was smooth and glowed

yet in the middle of her forehead was a pimple

her fingernails were grown to perfection

but the paint on them were chipped and worn

her hair was blow dryed to perfection

yet the split ends were unmistakable

she walked with confidence and assurance

yet her knees knocked into one another

she spoke with authority and boldness

yet her words were at times were unclear

she often strove for perfection

yet in all her efforts, she was imperfect

I Think, Therefore I Am. Surely?

She takes a tentative step forward. Her movements are slow calculated, yet offensive and so mistaken.

She slips and falls amidst the tiny minuscules of a thousand yellow grains like quick sand beneath her feet, she nurses a swollen knee.

Beyond her footsteps, there lies a vast desert. Beyond, pools of ice cool water. A desperate need.

''I am in the Sahara, dry and dead. But there.'' She points ahead, whispering softly ''There is an oasis. An o-a-s-i-s'' she sings.

He nods.

''And now, what else?'' He prompts.

She leans forward, head in her hands.

''I am amongst the yellow sand dunes, and I can see...a...movement, a movement in the distance.''

''And what is happening in the distance?'' He asks.

She rocks back and forth, head on hands and whimpers.

''I can see,'' she falters. ''I- I can see...many hands...many feet, marching, coming towards me.''

She stops speaking in obvious distress.

''what else can you see now?"' he asks.

She pauses. Takes a breath. Seems to think.

'I can not only just see, but I can hear!'' She cries out.

'What can you hear?'' He leans forward.

''I can... I can hear sounds.''

He waits for a moment, speaking no words.

''Off course.'' His answer is wry. ''And what 'sounds' can you hear?"

She smiles, head in her lap, she laughs, clapping gleefully.

''I can hear them, and see them, I can see and hear, both at the same time!''.

''What do you see and hear both at the same time?'' He questions.

''Them..." She whispers. ''The army. They are loud and strong, fast in approach. They tell me I am the queen of Sheba. They are covered in the colours of the rainbow.''

She bites her finger nails, spitting each one out with pride.

He frowns as he smooths down his hair, wiping away her sharp, wet, stray fingernail from his chin. ''They say?'' he continues.

''They say I am the next in line to reign to seat upon the golden throne. They are happy. They fall at my feet. They had been seeking after me for a long long time''.

She smiles, seemingly content and assured of her answer she sits upright in a regal posture.

Her eyes are glazed, and she seems catatonic. There is not much that can be done. He steps out of the room, and closes the door behind him.

Behind the glass screen he stares at her, she is seated in a cold and lonely room, with grey walls, one table and two chair seated beyond a glass screen.

''What's your verdict?'' His partner asks.

He pats his colleague on the shoulder and leans forward.

''Keep way way way clear of drugs''. He replies. ''Keep well, well away.''

Through His Eyes

He heated a stone up on the fire and placed it in her hands.

'Ow, ooh, wee!'' she cried as she dropped the stone immediately.

''That was red'' he said.

He soothed her hands in ice cold water as she felt the soothing embrace.

''This is blue'' he said.

She played around with cotton wool, soft to the touch.

''This is white'' he said.

He dug his hands in the earth of a pot plant and sprinkled it into her hands.

''This is brown''.

He picked up a daffodil and tickled her face with the flower.

''This is yellow''.

He took her hand and placed it into soft gooey endless tar.

''This is black''.

He took her out onto the marsh, as she ran her fingers in the grass and took in a deep breath.

''This is green''.

He placed her hands over the subtle warmth of a radiator.

''This is orange''.

He placed her hand on his heart as she felt his heart beating.

''This is my love for you''.

She picked up her cane and put his hand on her heart. Though she was blind, she knew that she would always be able to see through His eyes.