A Beautiful Gift From A Beautiful Friend,

Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive.  ~Anäis Nin

Friendship is such a beautiful blessing that God gives us in our lives.  Someone we can share with, laugh with, and cry with.  Over the last couple of years blogging, I have had the great opportunity to meet many wonderful writers, and gain amazing friends all over the world.  Today I would like to acknowledge one of these lovely souls.  Her name is Ninot Aziz.  She lives in beautiful Malaysia, has five children, and is the author of several books, about Malaysian heritage,culture, and legacy.  Ninot is a very busy, and successfull human being, but she always makes time for her family and friends.  I first met her at my blog, always leaving beautiful and uplifting comments. This led me to her's and the rest is history.  We became true friends.  One fact that I find really intriguing is that we both started writing at the same tender age of eleven years old.  Ninot once asked me to share my story of what inspired me to first start writing, so at her request I would like to share that story now.  When I was eleven years old a lot of changes had taken place in my life.  My mother had passed away 2 years before, and my father had just remarried and my stepmother and two of her teenage sons had moved in with us.  It was both an exciting and frightening time for me.  Because of limited space, and the fact that my brother could be cantankerous, I lost my room to my stepbrothers and had to sleep on the couch in the living room.  All of my toys had been packed aways while I was gone at my grandparent's house during my father's honeymoon.  So I began finding other things to do with my time when I came back home.  I did some reading, and watched more T.V., and then one day, out of the blue, I got the idea to write a poem.  I remember sitting at my father's desk with a pen and paper, and deliberating what I would put down on that page.  I looked out the kitchen window, and saw this magnificent tree, and just started writing.  The entire piece was about our home, that tree, and what it meant to me.  It was a silly little poem, but I never have forgotten how it made me feel to have written it.  It was such a wonderful sense of accomplishment.  It is a wonderful thing in the blogging world to be able to share my writing with other like minded writers and poets.  It certainly has motivated me to write more, and I have truly enjoyed reading other peoples amazing works.  Ninot recently generously sent me across the globe her latest book, "Srikandi".  I was very touched by her beautiful gift and wanted to share the story here.  Thank you Ninot for being such a lovely friend here in the blogosphere.  I feel so blessed to have met such an amazing and accoplished poet, writer, and beautiful friend!

 



All The Way Back

One Shot Wednesday

When I was a child out shopping with my father in the busy paced Christmas season, my small steps could never match his giant ones.  For every large stride he took, I had to take three awkaward leaps to keep in step.  It was like a little red bird flying next to an eagle with his massive wing span, there was a great difference in our flight, and like the eagle my father had a great wing span.  When we were finished at the store, and the car was loaded up, he would always push the shopping cart all the way back into the store where it belonged.  I would sit in the car waiting and wondering why he took the time to do such a good deed when he had so many more important things to do.  At the time, I could not comprehend how his example of giving of himself, even in such a small way, would impact my view of the meaning of giving later in life.

Last week marked the beginning of the holiday shopping season.  Once again as an adult, I found myself participating in the pyretic frenzy of shoppers bumping into one another trying to attain our prized merchandise that would make the perfect gift for that special someone.  The chaos of that kind of interaction can steal the cheer right out of the holiday spirit. So when I was leaving the sale, and could not get to my car due to several carts left all in the way, it was at that moment, that I realilzed how in the effort to get everything right, we seem to get it all so wrong!

Every year at this time I become torn between the joy of the spirit of giving, and the drudgery of getting everything done on my Christmas to do list.  Time, like lightening, flashes past me, and I just follow it in vain, like the thunder with an artless thud!  However, if I stop myself in my tracks, and think all the way back when I was a child at Christmas, there are certain memories that come rushing back like a prodigal son longing to be held by the father once more.  None of these thoughts hold any significance to anyone but me.  There are no favorite gifts, new bikes, go go boots, or colored television sets.  There are only precious moments spent with loved ones that repair my vision of what truly matters.  Sometimes we get so caught up in the race reaching for the prize, that we forget the true purpose it held in the beginning.  The holiday season is not about how many presents we can give, but giving in celebration of the priceless gift  of hope God gave us all the way back on the first Christmas in Bethlehem.  In times like these, I often have to be remimnded that the greatest gifts of all are free.

Many years have passed since I was eight years old out shopping with my father.  He has long since passed away, and I have spent many Christmas seasons out shopping on my own.  Sometimes I have waisted too much money, but I realize more and more as I get older that I have never been waisting my time,  for no act of kindness is ever in vain.  The real gifts that I was given growing up stay with me always, and they reflect out to others, like ripples in a pond.  When I recall the memories of my father, it is the times we shared together, and how his integrity etched its place upon my heart that hold true.  Just like our Father in Heaven has given us an eternal hope that our hearts can always hold.

This life is full of many struggles; errands that must be done, and decisions both mundane and colossal to be made.  Through it all, let us not forget what truly matters most.  Sometimes when I am out shopping, and my father is on my mind, as he so often is this time of year, I will finish loading my car with gifts, and take the time to push the cart all the way back to the store where it belongs.  It always fills me with an inner peace, and the sweet vision of my father's smile.  I know I will never be able to fill my father's shoes, but I am certain that I shall always try.

This is an essay I wrote for Christmas "all the way back" in 2007.  I hope that everyone here in the blogosphere had a wonderful Christmas full of the blessings of the heart, and that the new year is one full of happiness and hope.

The Bounty of God

Magpie #45

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." ~Albert Einstein

 

Perhaps the gravest, and yet greatest gift God gives us in this life is the ability to decide for ourselves what we will believe, and what path we will choose from the vision set before us.  We all one by one, could step into a Cathedral and peer through the beautiful stained glass windows, and each one see something a bit different.  Some choose the obvious, and clear science of logic, and then go about their way, while others look deeper, into the glass, and into the human heart, not just seeing a mother and child etched upon the glass, but they see a miracle etched upon humanity.  The wonder of the many gifts of God.  Is it a miracle, or is it the science of art? 

I choose the miracle!

I hope everyone at Magpie Tales and everywhere in the blogosphere has a wonderful Christmas Holiday, no matter what your set beliefs are....it is a season of miracles....the spirit of giving is a beautiful thing!

This Life

Magpie Tales #42

"What we are is God's gift to us. What we become is our gift to God." ~Eleanor Powell

Gently take hold of me with both hands

and then keep on moving on your race

each breath a new gift

each step you take

becomes the

prize

you

make.

To read more prize offerings check out lovely Willow's Magpie Tales 

Something To Hold On To

Imperfect Prose with Emily take a look you will be blessed.


You would not walk the edge of the highest bridge without holding on to the rails.
Nor would you ride the ocean's wind without holding on to the sails.
You would not climb the tallest tree without a good firm grip.
Nor would you receive an offering without unwrapping and holding the gift.
You would not set up a ladder and climb it on shifting sand.
Nor would you accept a trophy without holding it in your hands.
So why would you walk the trials of life empty handed your whole life through?
For, Jesus holds out His hand, and He is something to hold on to.