When many people meet Christians, they notice that we're different. But why? Is it because we're perfect? No way!
Do we stumble? Of course! Do we even fall? By all means! But we also get back up, by God's strength.
Now let me ask you something. If God blocked the wind, would we ever learn to walk against it, following Jesus?
But by His grace, He doesn't shield us. And by His grace, we are given the strength.
The strength to walk against the wind.

Jenna knocked timidly at the door of the upstairs room. A muffled call told her to wait half an hour. She fidgeted and sat down in the hallway outside the door, picking at the dirt still lodged beneath her fingernails. Only newly arrived, she still wasn’t accustomed to meeting the wizards, and this was the first time she’d dared to interrupt a meeting. The wizards were an odd assortment – mostly wealthy business executives and the like. Not what first comes to mind when you think wizards, Jenna mused. Still, they didn’t seem to be a bad bunch.

Note: I wrote this poem for my very dear friend Kyleigh when she moved overseas. If any of you are wondering, yes, it is the same Kyleigh who posts all that amazing stuff here.
This one's for you, Ky!

We'll always be together
Although we're seas apart
For whatever the distance between us
You'll always be in my heart

And when you look at stars
Twinkling in endless sky
Just find the one that shines the most
And know I'm saying 'Hi'.

“Silent Tears Only” read the sign beyond the door and all the souls that traveled through would sign the dotted line (which was, indeed, for them, the unborn souls) before climbing down to earth on Jacob’s Ladder with the Angels.

And the Voice within said, “Smile and say that
everything’s O.K. Don’t cry. Don’t let it show that you’re afraid.”

Slamn it. Why can’t we cry together, and from our tears, at least know that we are not alone. Let the orphans dance a wild dance, gyrate with wailing cries. Let it out.

I often wonder why the grass is green.
Why the sky is blue, How come some people are nice, others mean. Why us Humans look the way we do.
Why the animals went to the ark Two by Two.
Why does the Earth look the way it does.
What put it in some women's hearts to have a mothers love.
But then one day I found out why.
My questions were answered. And my answeres came from Jesus Christ.
He told me the answeres to what I needed to know. Everything I told him He understood.
He died for you and me. Just to set us free.

im not a christan myself, but i was so shocked by this idea...if the bible-and everything in it- ar true, that means that if you follow the generations back far enough,to the accused "first people on earth", adam and eve, than u could note that everyone is related two eachother.
every time a robber shoots someone, they could be shoooting a distant(VERY distant :p) cousin.

weird, huh?

This is a song I wrote for some of my books, the Guardian Sagas. Arasi was a sword forged by Teren Tebre Swordforger at the command of Naran Ara (my God figure). The sword was named Arasi because in Diresth (Teren's country) the word arasi means 'hope'. Arasi was forged as the only weapon that could stand up to a mace forged by a wizard and bound with spells so that every other weapon that touched it would break. Throughout the last age of the world Arasi, the Sword of Hope, was born by men called the Guardians of Arasi.

Hear the hammer hammering

Lazy-leafed sentinels
Looked down to see a solitary shape
Staring ahead intently while brown ghosts
Melted by on either side
And, laughing
Moved on

Soldiers have killed,
And Soldiers have died,
and defended our freedom,
with valor and pride.

To defend this country,
takes more than a gun,
it takes a patriot,
and the streangth of passion.

they walk into battle,
with chins and flags held high,
Knowing that they,
Could be the next one to die.

but they remember us proudly,
each time that they go,
for freedom is nothing,
compared to love.

We did not experience “summer” as the rest of the world did this year. I certainly intended to, but God had other plans. On April 18, a day forever seared in my memory, two Turkish believers and a fellow German worker were murdered by five Muslim men in Malatya, the city we lived in. That afternoon my life changed drastically, and I had never felt more alone. Our family sat with the German children that now had no father, and the wife and the fiancée of the Turkish men, isolated from family and most friends by their faith. No words came to my mind, just tears.