more lists...and more dreaming

Im finding myself stumbling on more and more momentos from my past lately. The latest one is a list I wrote dated 2007, when I was 16 years old, of things I was dreaming of at the time. Im sure all 16 year old girls have alist like mine, but its funny now looking back and seeing how much has changed, how much has stayed exactly the same, and just how much Ive done. I wont share the whole list, but this is a snippet...

to write a book
to save a life
to hold a human heart
to go hang-gliding
to go to nursing school (this surpirsed me actually, at the time, I didnt even want to be a nurse!)
to have an autobiography
to successfully send a message in a bottle
to hold a kiwi
to learn the gospels
to ride a penny farthing
to have a white Christmas
to have a stamp on every page of my passsport
to live to be 100
to get married and raise a family
to visit every continent
to speak Auca fleuently

Turns out I havent really changed all that much.

Dreaming

I dream of being a nurse,
a real well-trained, loving, God-honouring nurse,
serving Him, serving others.
I dream of talking with my patients
like they are equals,
like they are loved and treasured,
and journeying with them,
and maybe showing them a bit of Jesus along the way.

I dream of falling in love,
and feeling like the most treasured person on the planet.
I dream of being a mum,
having a big family,
and learning from my kids.
I dream of being half the mother my mum is,
and being able to laugh together with my daughter,
as I laugh with my mum and her mum now.

I dream of going back to China,
and seeing my precious beauties once again.
And being able to say "Jesus" out loud,
and not find myself in more trouble than I can imagine.
I dream of the underground church,
and encouraging them,
loving them,
supporting them.

I dream of having a stamp on every page of my passport.
And not, like, the lame places.
The forgotten places.
And seeing smiles from everywhere in the world.

I dream of growing old with that one person.
The person who loves me,
treasures me,
think the world of me,
and I of them.
And I dream of being one of those hilarious old people,
just like my Nan, in fact.

And I dream of, one day,
meeting with Jesus in heaven,
and seeing the faces of all the people I love,
right there with me.


I guess Im lucky dreams are free.

To the girl who feels overlooked,
You're beautiful,
just the way you are.
The way you were created.
You dont need to throw yourself at anyone,
because, one of these days,
someone isnt going to be able
to ignore your beauty.


To the lonely old man,
You're an inspiration.
If only you knew
how much I appreciated all your stories.
I tell stories so that one day,
I might be like you.


To the binge drinker,
I worry about you,
because I dont want to see you
hurting more than you already are.
Seeing you like this breaks my heart,
but the glimspes of hope I see in you
make me jump for joy inside.


To the forgotten orphan,
Someone is waiting for you
to join their family.
You will be loved like never before,
and you wont ever be alone again.
I promise.


To the boy behind the mask,
Your courage is beyond words.
One day, you will FEEL again,
and it will be like nothing else.
He's waiting for you,
with his arms wide open
waiting for his child to come running back.


To the overlooked,
the lonely,
the hurting,
the broken,
the frightened,
the forgotten,
you continue to show me small glimpses of hope,
And thinking of you,
I am convinced
that I can walk this life,
that I really CAN do this.


legends.

Dear Anonymous

I kinda miss you.
You were so encouraging.
And even though you frustrated me,
and drove me insane,
and I was a little mean even,
reading your comments made me smile.
Everytime.
And reading your comments made me want to write more and more.
Because they were so lovely.
And you made me think I had something of importance to say,
and that, somewhere, someone wanted to listen.
But now youre gone,
and yeah,
I miss you.

Romans 5:3

"We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance."

I love it when the bible is straight up like this.
Its like this:

"Hey Beckie. Life sucks sometimes, but take it in your stride, with me by your side. I didnt promise you a perfect life, and easy life. I just promised you life. Love, Jesus."


Thats pretty cool huh.


I cant answer the age old question "why do bad things happen to good people?", but I can say from experience that often that stink stuff turns out to be not so bad in the end. Yeah I know, people die prematurely, and wars are started, and people make mistakes and such, but thats not to say we can grow through suffering and pain. Because we absolutely can. In the midst of sadness, of trial, I try to remind myself that I dont see much, I see right now, how life is changing now and what it will mean for me now. But God, he can see a lot further. While Im sitting here seeing the now, Hes seeing forever, my entire lifetime, and eternity.


Eternity.


And thats really comforting. Even though Jesus gave me free will, and so I make all my own decisions, screw ups and all, theres always a lesson to be learnt that will, bluntly, make me stronger. Stronger in myself, and stronger in Him.


He never promised an easy life, but He promised us life.

Special

"The Wemmicks were small wooden people carved by a woodmaker called Eli.

Each Wemmick was different.

Some had big noses, others had large eyes.

Some were tall and others were short.

Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers

and grey dot stickers.

The wooden people went around the village sticking stars

or dots on one another.

The pretty ones got stars.

Wemmicks with rough wood or chipped paint got dots.

The talented ones got stars too.

Some could jump over tall boxes or sing pretty songs.

Others, though,

could do little.

They got dots.

Punchinello was one of these.

He tried to jump high like others,

but he always fell.

So the Wemmicks would give him dots.

When he tried to explain why he fell, he would say something silly,

so the Wemmicks would give him more dots.

'He deserves lots of dots,' the wooden people would say.

After a while Punchinello believed them.

'I guess Im not a good Wemmick,' he decided.

So he stayed inside most of the time.

When he did go outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had lots of dots.

He felt better around them.

One day he met a different kind of Wemmick named Lucia.

She had no dots or stars.

The Wemmicks admired Lucia for not having no dots, so they would give her a star.

But it would fall off.

Others would give her a dot for not having any stars.

But it wouldnt stay either.

Thats the way I want it to be,

thought Punchinello.

Sohe asked Lucia how she did it.

'it's easy,' she replied.

'Every day I go visit the woodcarver.'

'Why?'

'You'll find out if you go see him.' Then Lucia turned and skipped away.

'But will he want to see me?' Punchinelo wondered.

Later, at home, he sat and watched the wooden people giving each other stars and dots.

'Its not right.' he muttered to himself.

And he decided to go see Eli.

Punchinello walked up the narrow peth and stepped into Eli's shop.

His eyes grew big.

The stool was as tall as he was. He had to stretch on tiptoe to see the top of the workbench.

Punchinello swallowed hard.

Im not staying here!

Then he heard his name.

'Punchinello?'

The voice was deep and strong.

'How good to see you. Come - let me have a look at you.'

Punchinello looked up.

'You know my name?'

'Of course.

I made you.'

Eli picked him up and set him on the bench. 'Looks like you've been given some bad marks,' said the maker.

'I didnt mean to, Eli. I tried really hard.'

'Punchinello, I dont care what the other Wemmicks think.'

'You dont?'

'No. You shouldnt either. What they think doesnt matter. All that matters is what I think.

And I think you are pretty special.'

Punchinello laughed.

'Me? Special? Why? Im not talented and my paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?'

Eli spoke very slowly.

'Because you are mine. Thats why you matter to me.'

Punchinello didnt know what to say.

'Everyday Ive been hoping youd come' Eli explained.

'I came because I met Lucia. Why dont stickers stay on her?'

The maker spoke softly. 'Because she has decided that what I think is more important that what others think. The stickers only stick if you let them.'

'what?'

'The stickers only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust my love, the less you care about the stickers.'

'Im not sure I understand.'

Eli smiled. 'You will, but it will take time. For now, come to see me everyday and let me remind you how much I care.'

Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the ground.

'Remember' Eli said as Punchinello was leaving,

'You are special because I made you.

And I dont make mistakes.'

Punchinello didnt stop, but in his heart he thought

I think he really means it.

And when he did, a dot fell to the ground."

"You are special" by Max Lucado

* * *

Hey you,

yeah,

you.

You're special.

A Nice Surprise..

So after having a YUCK couple of days, feeling stink because of some horrible-ness that popped up, finding a note from someone (dated 24.07.08!) really made me smile. SO I thought Id share.

This is what it read:

"I love the way you laugh.
I love the way you run when you touched something yuck.
I love the way you joke about bad situations.
I love the way you stop half-way through insulting someone.
I love the way you say exactly what youre thinking.
I love the way you meddle so nicely.
I love the way you can make me laugh even on a bad day.
I love the way you can quote all of Finding Nemo.
I love the way you are so passionate about the things you love.
But most of all, I love you."

It doesnt matter that this was written almost two years ago and the person who wrote it isnt actually part of my life anymore. It just matters that someone, once thought this stuff about me. And its given me the confidence to get up from this yuckiness that struck me.