My African Child~by Toris Okotie

So young in heart
He cried for milk
So poor and helpless
Mama weeps in pain

His eyes so red
A week he cried
A month ago,
To the world he came

Mama so young
Papa has run
Under the bridge
They lay their heads

In storm and rain
They search for food
Through man and sex
Mama fed him well

The days went by
Mama health decreased
Only five months old
Mama said good bye

In rain and cold
He cried so loud
In sun and heat
He wept and wept

Three days gone by
Since Mama left
And now he sleeps
To meet with Mama



This poem is one of my favorites because I love how concise it is. I am amazed by how few words it took the author to relay his tragic story so poignantly.

Stay tuned, more poetry is on the horizon :)


Lydia

This is my cry for those who are suffering, for those who are in the midst of civil war, and for those who are in bondage.

There is so much suffering.

Oh Lord, bring us peace.

Oh Lord, come quickly!



Brianna

Oh yes. Oh yes yes yes yes. When I drink this, I become the Spazmanian Devil. Spaz, I say. Spazzzztastic.

It may be March, but Spring is coming.

waterthirst
hungerfeasting
losslaughter
wealthpoverty
fuelfever
heightsdepths
brokenhealed
shatteredmended
lovedlost
forgivenforgotten
soldredeemed

This is me again: running over. Watching friends get hurt, seeing people's homes get washed away, hearing about people who need help but cannot be reached by those of us who want to assist, listening, advising, and holding hands. I am so glad that the debauched, sorry echo of love that we see so often is not the only love that there is, and I rejoice over the fact that love is not my religion, but rather, that my religion=alltruelovewrappedintoonepersongodman.

found
rescued
embraced
liberated
delivered
changed
loved.

In the next year, I will be performing the Radical Experiment. I started the day after Valentines day, so about a month and a half too late to be a New Years sort of deal, but when the New Year rolls around again, I'll know I'm getting close. Anyway, some dude named David Platt wrote a book called Radical. He is a preacher at some mega church in the U.S. It is kind of weird because I am devoting hours and hours of the next year to this experiment, but I honestly would not recommend the book. Not the whole book at least. I highly recommend reading the first and last chapters, and praying over the experiment. The rest kind of got on my nerves. Here are the components of the experiment:

-Pray for the entire world in a year(check out the picture of my Christmas presents, under the label "images")
-Read the entire Bible in a year
-Sacrifice your money for a specific purpose
-Spend your time in another context
-Commit your life to a multiplying community.

The most challenging of these, so far, have beeen the first two. Oh my. The Bible is one hefty book and reading it takes a whole lot of time. I have had to stop watching the office completely. Sigh. And I have not been to see a movie in theatres ALL YEAR. That is radical for me, ok. RADICAL.
I am most excited about the fourth (JAMAICA and, perhaps, Yakima, Washington) because I love love love that traveling and meeting new people stuff.
But yeah, that is the Radical experiment and I am thankful to have the oppurtunities to take part in each of the six challenges that make it up.

My dear Father, he's been my boulder. My strong tower to lean on. He's supported our family in the rough times, and during the easy times. He's been rock and has always done what's necessary. He's worked at the bottom, with a smile on his face. He's faced the emotionally tiring times of life with a firm resolve. I am so thankful and greatful for the role he has in my life. I look forward to the life ahead with my father.

Happy Birthday, Dad!


Brianna

I am ever so blessed. My mother gave me life. She raised me up (with help from my father, of course). She changed my diapers. She has held me when I cry, and still does. She feeds me. Gives me money for some gas. Comforts, supports, and encourages me. She makes me look at what I'm doing and makes me really think about it, on occaision. She loves me.

My mom is a huge blessing to me, my brother and father, and to people who surround her. I am so thankful for her, and for her life. Lord, thank you for her.

Happy Birthday, Mom!



Brianna

Just one quick question (for I too have been sucked into my society and am dreadfully busy): What is it that fills you over?
I think that we all have things that we name off when someone asks us what we do, or who we are, or what satisfies us. Things like our family, our job, our hobbies, our beliefs. Those are the things with which we fill our time, towards which we exert our energy, and without which we freak out. I have discovered, though, and keep rediscovering an over-filled point. I feel like liquid in a cup, and all these things take me to the rim (usually), but then I run into a song, or a picture, or an idea, that adds just one ounce more, and then my soul starts running over the edges. Do you know what I am talking about? Have you known this emotional implosion?
I hope so, because though it causes my heart to literally ache, and I cannot help but hang my head in an overwhelmed fashion when I experience it, I love this emotional expanse, and I even seek it. It is hard to explain. It is so excruciating and wonderful at the same time, that I want all to know it, and I want everyone to have beliefs to look to that are as awe-inspiring as those to which I turn. Because sometimes, it is impossible to handle one such magnificient beauty as a dirty child in the arms of someone who loves them, a blind youth harbouring hope for sight, or the tranquility of nature without searching for someone or something greater that will take care to catch the drippings from beneath your metaphorical cup.

Hello.

We are alive.

The End.


Brianna and Lydia