Mandilynn22's Xanga

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Sun, 05 Nov 2006 00:08:16 GMT

My new site: Write Away

Don't look here anymore ;)

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Tue, 18 Oct 2005 00:30:10 GMT

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Tue, 19 Oct 2004 09:50:52 GMT

Well, my wonderful friends, I shall not be posting on here again. I think I'd much rather use this just to comment on other people's Xangas. =)

So, this is farewell! Parting is such sweet sorrow...
______________________________________

P.S. (This is for Hannah; don't bother trying to understand it. ;)
-Due to a previous engagement, our game was postponed and the card was read later in the evening. Mrs. Cochran chooses a card.
"This is a factoid. I'll read the word and the hint outloud, and then pass the card to-"
"Anyways!..."

Saturday, October 16, 2004

Sat, 16 Oct 2004 12:51:22 GMT

____________________

The young shepherd boy stood at the wooden fence, his arms leaning over the wobbly bars of oak. As he stood, the radiance of the sun began to grace the fresh earth, rising above the hillside and letting down waves of warmth. He seemed rather impatient, anxiously stepping about and adjusting his standing position, shifting back and forth. He heaved an agitated sigh, and turned his head toward the small pasture where, as routinely as ever, the sheep grazed quietly. They did so that morning, and every morning.

These sheep belonged to the shepherd boy’s father. And his father loved them as though they were his sons. There was, without doubt, no thing that suggested otherwise. Day and night he tended to them, seeing that they were well fed, groomed, and in good health. By morning would the father rise and wake his son, and together they would gather the sheep, each accounted for, and head for the grassy hills beyond the pasture. There, the sheep would graze for hours upon hours, filling themselves with the sweet grasses. Then, the sheep were content, and the father was happy.

After some time, the shepherd boy turned away from the sheep and looked toward the house where, with his staff in one hand and a worn leather whip in the other, the father stepped through the door and out onto the dusty earth.

As though in some great hurry, the shepherd boy unlatched the gate and whistled to the sheep. Upon signal, the fluffy white animals left their spots in the pasture and walked toward the open gate.

The morning was still brisk, new, and alive when they reached the tumbling hills beyond the pasture. Untouched, it seemed far too perfect to let such common animals trample the dewy mounds of green, to let them flatten the upright blades. It was, after all, the finest grass nearby, and the father would not see that his sheep deserved any less. For he loved them dearly.

And then, after finding comfort lying on the damp grass, the father suddenly rose with haste and looked out among his sheep. "What is it, father?" the shepherd boy asked, and directed his eyes to where his father looked. "One is missing; I must go and find him," was all he said, and he quickly left his son’s side. "But, father, wait! I cannot watch after all these sheep alone. There are ninety-nine remaining without the one lost. It is but a single sheep." But the father did not second guess himself. No, he handed the leather whip to his son and said, "I have a hundred sheep, this is true, but is one of less importance than another? Certainly not. I shall go and find him, and bring him back." So he did, and there was great fear in his eyes.

After much searching, and frantic running about, the father came upon his missing sheep. With compassion, he looked upon the young animal. She had stumbled, and was caught in the cleft of a rock, unable to move or shake her way free. Setting down his staff, the father climbed into the small valley, and there, reached to liberate his young sheep of the rock’s firm grasp. Carrying her safely in the refuge of his arms, the father climbed up the rock and onto the hills again, where he walked slowly, holding his sheep close to him.

When he returned, there was joy in his eyes. "Come, my son," he said when he reached the shepherd boy, "we must return home and gather our neighbors and friends. They shall rejoice with me, for I have found my lost sheep!"

____________________

"If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, I tell you the truth, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost." -Matthew 18:12-14

Thursday, October 14, 2004

Thu, 14 Oct 2004 10:16:15 GMT

A dear friend sent me an email a couple days ago; I was truly blessed, and touched by it, so I wanted to share it with you. =)

______________________

"What a friend we have in Jesus,

all our sins and griefs to bear

what a priviledge to carry

everything to God in prayer

...have we trials and temptations?

is there trouble anywhere?

Jesus knows our every weakness

take it to the Lord in prayer"

That is one of my very favorite hymns. When I really sit down and think about it, I wonder so much at how JESUS.....the Creator of everything and Lord over everyone, is MY friend. and He wants to have a relationship with me. Picture your entire church congregation, and everyone you know sitting in it. Jesus is ever so present...loving and leading the entire church.....but He's also thinking about YOU, Mandi. Out of an entire crowd, He wants you, and He sees you, and He's holding you ever-so-tightly right now.

My very good friend once told me something that really encouraged me. She told me to picture a 11-month old baby, just learning how to walk. The baby scoots around....pulls himself up, tries to walk....and falls. He scoots forward and tries again. Many times, the baby goes between scooting, crawling, and trying his best to walk...and it takes him a rather long time to get across the living room floor! Meanwhile, the baby's parents are watching. They are making sure he doesn't fall off of the staires, or anything, but sometimes they let him bump his head on the table and pull himself up. They don't rush to pull him up every time he falls, either. They want him to learn how to walk on his own. They, in fact, WANT him to walk, for his own good. But do they rush him, pressuring him to hurry up and walk? No, they are patient....wanting him to walk for his own good, and yet lovingly and patiently waiting...protecting...and watching.

That's what God is like. =) One of God's wonderful qualities that we can so often forget, is that He is infinately patient. We are His precious children, sister...just learning how to take baby steps. Sometimes it gets discouraging because we have SO far to go!! We fall and hit our baby heads on the table, and get discouraged. Today, I shall pray for you that you are able to grasp how wonderfully patient He is. Remember the beautiful verse, "love is patient?" since He is Love itself....He's patiently standing over us, loving us as we learn how to walk. ::happy-sigh:: what a beautiful Love He is.

I hope this encourages you, my sister. I am here any time at all that you want to talk about anything.

____________________

"Two are better than one, because they have good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up."

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

Tue, 12 Oct 2004 10:21:12 GMT

There is a little hand that's moving,
In the darkness of its hiding place,
Its tiny fingers stretching,
Reaching for what it cannot see,

And this little life that's wakening,
Being made in secret,
Formed before the dawn of time,
And shaped to be just right,
Is waiting for her day to come,
To meet the world she cannot touch,

Her little toes are curled beneath her,
Eyes gray like stormy skies,
And creamy skin without blemish or flaw,
Untouched,
Perfect,
Her rosy lips and precious mouth,
Delicate and fragile,
A tiny tummy rising with breath,
And head graced with wispy hairs,
Though no one sees her, she is darling,
Beautiful,

She doesn't have a name,
Because mommy isn't waiting for her,
And daddy's gone,
She's tired of carrying her,
Weary of the burden,
She doesn't want to see her baby,
Her own,
Her flesh and blood,
She cannot bear to wait that long,
So she will not try,

And suddenly...

That life, that precious life,
Is no longer an awaited gift,
No longer a creation waiting to be seen,
No longer a great expectancy,
She becomes an accident,
A choice,
And then she's gone,

The lovely eyes,
The silky hair,
The tiny hands curled into fists,
The pools of gray that were her eyes,
The perfect skin and faint whimper,
Gone.

Because her mommy didn't want her,
Didn't love her,
Oh, if only she had seen her...
Held her in her arms...
Kissed her salty tears...
Touched her face...

Maybe then would the world have seen her too.

____________________

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful..." -Psalm 139:13&14

Sunday, October 10, 2004

Sun, 10 Oct 2004 22:37:14 GMT

I was feeling rather lost today.

Not just lost.

Empty..

Human..

Which way am I going now, Lord?

What are you trying to show me?

But then a song came on the radio.

____________________

And the pain falls like a curtain,
On the things I once called certain,
And I have to say the words I fear the most,
I just don't know,

And the questions without answers,
Come and paralyze the dancer,
So I stand here on the stage afraid to move,
Afraid to fall, but fall I must,

God is God and I am not,
I can only see a part of the picture He's painting,
God is God and I am man,
So I'll never understand it all,
For only God is God,

____________________

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Wed, 06 Oct 2004 00:20:41 GMT

Stand For Me

When that day rolls by,
And you've nothing to hide behind,
When all around the hills give way,
You listen but can't hear Me say,
I'm right beside you,
Take My hand,
I'll gladly reach to help you stand,
Won't let go until there's light,
To lead you through and give you sight,

And when the storm has passed,
And there's another to outlast,
Will you be strong enough to rise?
To boldly face what I despise,
The place of sin my eyes cannot bear,
To breathe the wicked, vile air,
I promise to be your eyes to see,
But will you fall for the world,
Or will you stand for Me?

When that day rolls by,
And the world isn't asking for another try,
When the walls have crumbled to the ground,
And finally you know you've found,
A place of rest you once knew,
When I suffered long to bring it to you,
It is My peace,
So dwell with Me,
Live in rest abundantly,
I died because it was the only way,
For you to ever feel this way,

And when that peace is near,
Will you remember Me even here?
Or will the world be louder then,
To say it brings you rest within,
And you forget I gave it to you,
You forget I was the peace you knew,
I promise to be your eyes to see,
But will you fall for the world,
Or will you stand for Me?

When that day rolls by,
And you've not the strength to even try,
To begin the endurance of another day,
To fight what temptations stand in the way,
And struggle through to see what is just,
I am the One where you hide your trust,
I'm guiding you,
Follow and see,
I rejoice in the hope you have in Me,
Won't mislead you along this path,
I'll be your wisdom, your rod and your staff,

And when the valley's deep,
The fire burns beneath your feet,
And you're drawn to just give in,
To surrender to this earthly sin,
Will you turn to Me instead?
And ask that I give you your daily bread,
I promise to be your eyes to see,
But will you fall for the world,
Or will you stand for Me?

Sunday, October 03, 2004

Sun, 03 Oct 2004 21:51:59 GMT

I'm realizing I write about really depressing things ... any ideas?

Monday, September 27, 2004

Mon, 27 Sep 2004 11:39:26 GMT

A small and humble village lies just over the hills. It is so separate, so set apart from the rest of creation, shaded in the quiet valley, hidden in the fold of the mountain.

This is where you live. And you know no other beside this place.

Among you, there are many in the village. The gentle dwellers offer love to one another, and acceptance is abundant in their hands. You are so happy here, so at peace. No harm can come to you here, for among the many there is protection, and watchful eyes. Happy are your days, and joyful are the hours spent in fellowship. But, even so, there is one day when all is not at peace. There is one day when a strange wave of insecurity wash over you and the people, and this is when you come together. This is when you meet.

Today is that day.

The solemn faces, once lit with bliss and life, tread blankly through the overgrown field. This is where you will come together. They all seem so tense, you being among them, and not one casts a glance on another. A circle is formed of the crowd, condensed and tightened, and you are shoulder to shoulder with family, friends, strangers. Though no one speaks, all thoughts and expectations are evident, plainly spoken through faces without words. The leader of the village stand as the rest of you sit. He is tall and dark, seemingly hovering over the crowd as though a shepherd among his flock of sheep. He looks each person in the eye as though to read their thoughts to, in some manner, gather the answer to that which he will ask.

"Well, who’s turn is it to go?" he asks, and clasps his hands in front of him. Again, he scans the many before him, each woman, each man, each child, each elder. Not one speaks. You see his eyes dance among the people, and finally, they reach you. You look down. You lower your head. He continues his quiet interrogation.

Then, in the quiet of the still valley, a woman raises her delicate hand. Everyone turns to look at her, to examine the face of the one who is next, who is ready. "I will go." She rises with her head held high, and walks toward the leader. Slowly, she stands there before him as the people follow her path with their open eyes. The leader says a silent prayer over the woman, and places his hand on her shoulder. She does not cry.

And then, all knowing what is to come next, the people stand and follow the leader and the woman to The Gates. Here, she will be released. Here, she will walk beyond. And here, she will depart, to never return. The Gates are narrow, barred and of dark iron. They remain locked, until the leader pulls from his pocket a silver key. He turns the key slowly, and The Gates swing open. The creak sends chills down your spine. You shudder at the sound. And then, without farewell, she walks beyond The Gates, and into that which no other in the village has ever known. Someday, however, they will know. Soon, she is out of sight, and the people pray in silence.

And now, months later, it is that day again. That day where all will meet in the field, and return with one less.

But this time, the leader finds your eyes and does not move. "Who’s turn is it to go?" he asks, eyes fixed on yours. But you do not fear. You do not hide. You do not look down. No, you raise your hand. You rise and walk toward The Gates. It is your turn.

Go.

The world is waiting.

"He said to them, ‘Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation.’" -Mark 16:15