It’s been a while since I’ve taken the time to sit down and pin words here. Not because I’ve had nothing to share but because I’ve had SO much to share, I didn’t know where to begin again.
About a year ago, God called us to surrender to a new plan He had for us … and our journey across the world began. We are now making our home in SE Asia; doing what we believe we’ve been called to do — having met so many wonderful but different people and having learned so much. My blessings overflow!
As I ponder the experiences and people that I’ve been blessed with over the many years of our ministry, I’m impressed by one constant that transcends culture or location. We have ALL been hurt and broken and … we ALL need to be lifted up and loved, no matter what!
Years ago (really … A LOT of YEARS ago) as a high school student, my creative writing teacher shared this anonymous but profound piece. I’ll never forget how I related to it then … or how I relate to it now. I know that I’m not the only one.
PLEASE LISTEN TO WHAT I’M NOT SAYING
Don’t be fooled by me. Don’t be fooled by the face I wear For I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks – masks that I’m afraid to take off — and none of them are me. Pretending is an art that’s second nature with me But don’t be fooled, for God’s sake don’t be fooled. I give you the impression that I’m secure That all is sunny and unruffled with me – within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness my game, that the water’s calm and I’m in command, and that I need no one. But don’t believe me. Please — don’t believe me! My surface may be smooth but my surface is my mask, My ever-varying and ever-concealing mask. Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence. Beneath dwells the real me — in confusion, in fear, in aloneness. But I hide this. I don’t want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weaknesses and fear exposing them. That’s why I frantically create my masks to hide behind. They’re nonchalant, sophisticated facades to help me pretend, To shield me from the glance that knows. But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only salvation, and I know it. That is … if it’s followed by acceptance, and if it’s followed by love. It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison walls from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect. That glance from you is the only thing that assures me of what I can’t assure myself, – that I’m really worth something. But I don’t tell you this. I don’t dare. I’m afraid to. I’m afraid you’ll think less of me, that you’ll laugh – and your laugh would kill me. I’m afraid that deep-down I’m nothing, that I’m just no good – and you will see this and reject me. So … I play my game, my desperate, pretending game With a facade of assurance without And a trembling child within. So begins the parade of masks, The glittering but empty parade of masks, And my life becomes a front. I idly chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that’s nothing And nothing of what’s everything, of what’s crying within me. So … when I’m going through my routine Do not be fooled by what I’m saying, Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m not saying. Hear what I’d like to say but what I can not say. I dislike hiding. Honestly I do. I dislike the superficial game I’m playing, the superficial phony game. I’d really like to be genuine – and me. But I need your help, your hand to hold Even though my masks would tell you otherwise. It will not be easy for you. Long felt inadequacies make my defenses strong. The nearer you approach me The blinder I may strike back. Despite what books say of men, I am irrational; I fight against the very thing that I cry out for. You wonder who I am? I am every man you meet And … every woman you meet Don’t be fooled by me. Don’t be fooled by the face I wear.May we look into the eyes of those we meet … and hear more than what they are saying. May we see through the eyes of our Father who looks into the heart of those He loves … and hear what they are NOT saying.
I’m blessed to have 10 grandchildren, ages 9 years and younger. They are the joys of my heart and I could easily enjoy being that grandmother who bakes big, fat cookies and spends each afternoon sharing precious moments with her babies. Unfortunately, my grandchildren are scattered across many miles and though I am blessed to have some wonderful ‘Grammy-time’ memories with them, I just don’t get to see them as much as I like.
With spring upon us and the winter ‘soup season’ ending, we were happy to have just one more day of chilly weather to enjoy a pot of warm, creamy goodness. This hearty soup fills the bill perfectly with it’s chunky ingredients, real butter, rich cream, and crumbled bacon. This soup is not the one you’ll choose for it’s low calorie properties but it is oh, so worth it!
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