I am a Christian.
I just read my friend Alicia’s blog on releasing our passion and being real and vulnerable when writing. How we each have a different path to walk on this Earth and how we have to stop trying to please everyone and just be ourselves.
It got me to thinking.
God only created one of you. He only created one of me. (Can I get an “Amen!”?)
Do you know what I am doing at this moment, as I’m pondering the truths of God?
I am listening to secular music. Right now, it’s U2’s song “Kite”:
“I’m not afraid to die
I’m not afraid to live
And when I’m flat on my back
I hope to feel like I did”
I am a Christian listening to secular music, pondering the truths of God. And I am drinking a beer as I’m writing this. It is a cheap MGD Light. Just 64 calories. Yeah, I’m counting calories again. I shoved two wedges of fresh lime into the bottle. It is amazing what a little lime can do to zest up a cheap beer.
“Did I waste it?
Not so much I couldn’t taste it
Life should be fragrant
Roof top to the basement.”
Fresh limes are the epitome of fragrant—my fingers still smell heavenly from the lime oil they collected as I sliced the fruit.
The fruit that God made for us to enjoy. I am enjoying it.
I have a friend—make that several friends—who will tsk-tsk when they read this, who will pray for their sinner friend partaking in the devil’s music and the demon’s drink, and having the audacity to tell the whole world about it.
I know others who will say that blogging about my children equals exploiting them. I know others who will say my sense of humor is too flippant, too irreverent at times, and that I should reign it in.
Now Coldplay’s “Beautiful World” is filling my ears.
“And we live in a beautiful world (yeah we do yeah we do)
We live in a beautiful world.”
I saw photos earlier tonight of a friend’s flower garden. The variety was astounding—the colors, the textures of every plant were completely different. Upstanding, golden, cup-shaped tulips. Tight white peony blossoms just beginning to unpeel their layers of lacy petals. Velvety soft crimson roses, wide open to the sun, perched atop thorny branches. Heavy lavender wisteria, dangling like clusters of frilly, fragrant grapes.
They were all beautiful. They were all my favorite.
We’re all God’s favorite. Those who stand up strong and righteous in the ways of the Lord. The brand-new followers of Christ just beginning to open up to his ways. Those that blossomed from a pile of thorns and still live among them. The sweet-smelling souls whose mission it is to feed all who hunger.
The barren brown seed still waiting for someone to plant it and release it to grow into all it was created to be.
I’m glad that roses don’t refuse to bloom because they wish they were tulips. If wisteria refused to blossom because it couldn’t be a pricey peony, one of my favorite smells of spring wouldn’t exist.
God can use the King-James-only, skirt-wearing, long-haired mother of ten who bakes her own bread and sings nothing but hymns.
And God can use a struggling writer sitting at a computer in her nightgown, listening to U2 and sipping a cold draft beer.
He might not have used me tonight.
But did He did show me that it’s OK to be me.
Other Wordful Wednesday posts may be found here.