The Rose

I believe purity is very important for young people today. Just looking around the world in which I live in I can see that purity isn’t an important trait today. Where I live, it is every person for themselves. “If it feels good then do it!” Little do these young people realize that one day they will have to stop – take a good look at themselves – and think!

The world in which we live in today is so messed up and crazy on what love is. Love isn’t giving that special gift (I mean a pure life) early. Love isn’t sharing that special gift with anyone and everyone. Love isn’t in a hurry. Love isn’t about oh this feels so right. Love can wait – lust cannot.

Let us compare ourselves to that rose for illustration.

Have you ever looked at a rose and wondered what caused those blemish on a rose?

(Let’s use purity for an example.)

I am a beautiful rose with no spots or blemishes until one day a boy gives me a kiss. That first kiss was sweet and lovely, but wait! Now I cannot give my first kiss to my future husband one day. Oh no! Look! I have a blemish on my rose. Oh, it is a tiny little blemish! No one will know.

Along comes another boy that I like and he says he likes me. He kisses me and I kiss him. Where did those blemishes come from? I must be careful as I don’t want to mess up being a beautiful rose, yet, I seem to be getting blemishes all over.

I began to see that others around me. They, too, are damaged. It must be okay. After all, we live in 2008. I don’t want to feel out of place. Isn’t the motto “Everyone is doing it anyway!” Anyway, I don’t want to be considered old fashion. Plus, he won’t like me if I don’t.

One day, I meet a wonderful young man and he tells me he loves me. So we do some heavy kissing and before I knew it some inappropriate things happened. Oh, No! Don’t anyone look at my rose now. It is beginning to become very shabby looking. Maybe no one will know and I can hid how shabby it looks.

Before this young woman knows it – her beautiful rose is so full of dirt, blemishes, spots, and holes. This young man’s promise of love has lead her to give that special gift to him. Before long he tires of her and moves on. Only leaving behind empty promises of love.

Some must carry the mark where others can see (like an innocent child is born). Others will try to hid the mark (abortion or just plain not tell). She may lie to herself, but she will always know…..

How can I make my rose beautiful again???? I am sorry to say, that the rose cannot be made beautiful again. Young lady, it is so important to guard that rose.

I might as well give up then. It is all over for me as I have really made a mess of my rose. Young person, don’t fall in that trap. Remember this: God is faithful and just to forgive us! Sometimes we find it hard to forgive ourselves.

If you have already made a mess of your rose – stop – take a look at yourself – and ask God to forgive you. Then determine from this day forward not to touch another man until the day you marry. Give all those heartaches, broken pieces, ruined lives to God. Then wait for the person God has chosen for you. It will be worth it.

Thoughts ~ Counting My Blessings

God is so good to me and my family. During the congrational singing in church the other day, we sang the song "Count Your Blessings." Since then, I began thinking of all my blessings that I have. I am not going to list them here as the list will go on and on. Instead, I chose to write them down in a notebook. When things aren't going as well as I would like them, I can open up my notebook and read all the blessings that I counted.

For a long time I had spent many days (actually weeks!!) looking at the negative side of things instead of the positive side in my life. I think sometimes that we all like to dwell on the negative side and fail to "Count Our Blessings." Our husbands annoy us, our children drive us up the wall, a church member is frustating, the Pastor was so boring, and the list goes on and on... My friend, if you are a person who has some weeds like this - PULL THEM NOW!!

I robbed myself of the joy I could have had. I allowed things ("weeds") to come into my life that necessarily didn't need to be there and those "weeds" slowly choke the joy out of my life. I didn't see it at first; then, all of a sudden, life is at its worst instead of its best!

How did I get rid of the "weeds?"

To be honest, it is a daily thing. It is like tending to a garden. Whether it is a flower garden or a vegetable garden. It needs to be tended to on a daily basis.

I learned from a wise farmer that if I would walk out in my garden daily and pick those new weeds it is alot easier to keep a weed free garden then waiting to do it all on another day. The wise farmer's garden was beautiful. The plants were healthy, thriving plants. Giving the best fruit it could give.

It is amazing how I began to treat my life like a garden. God planted in me something that is wonderful and it is up to me to cultivate that by watering, feeding and weeding my life. So, my friend, it has been a slow process, because those weeds can be stubborn. It takes a weed killer (my Bible) to help get those stubborn weeds out. I still have some weeds left, but I have gotten rid of many weeds. My huband isn't as annoying as he used to be. My children aren't driving me up the wall anymore. That church member is being prayed for and God gives better results than I can ever do or accomplish. My pastor - the reason he was boring - was those weeds!! He isn't boring and it is a joy to learn and grow in the Lord.

I am still pulling my weeds, but on a daily basis. No more letting things build up.

So, go get busy pulling those weeds out of your life and have a wonderful day instead!!!

Grandma's Hands

GRANDMA'S HANDS

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands.

When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK.

She raised her head and looked at me and smiled.. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said in a clear voice strong.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK." I explained to her.

"Have you ever looked at your hands?" she asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?"

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.

Grandma smiled and related this story: "Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have. How they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.

"They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.

"They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.

"As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer.

"They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.

"They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

"They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.

"They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son.

"Decorated with my wedding band, they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special.

"They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse. '

"They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.

"They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.

"They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken,dried and raw.

"And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

"These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life.

"But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when He leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home.

When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of Grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

-- Author Unknown