My Love Note For A Special Girl

So there is this female that I admire. She is extremely gorgeous and I really would like to give her a Valentine's Day note tomorrow.

In fact, I spent a couple of hours working on it. I'm hoping that she will be impressed with it and notices the care I took in making the card.

I'm really hoping that she'll be flattered to receive it from me. Of course, that is the problem. This beautiful note that I made just for her will be from me.

You see, I think she is terrific. I am a little nervous about giving it to her but my butterflies are not what's holding me back. Even if she does admire my gift for her and even if she is willing to choose to love me, am I good enough for her?

She completely passes my standards in flying colors. But do I deserve her to be my Valentine?


Well, I hold this hand-made card in my hand and wonder whether or not to give it to her tomorrow. After I get off work, I'll know where she will be. I could travel to see her, then walk up to her and wish her a great Valentine's Day!

The card I made is SO beautiful. I should make these and sell them as a side hobby.

But as wonderful as she is.... and by gawd she is amazing...
...and as wonderful as this love note is....
..and as wonderful as she would be in my arms...


....I can't do it.
Why should I let her be in my arms when there are better arms she could be in?

Tomorrow, I will read my love letter I wrote for her one more time, saying the words aloud as if she was there by my side,

then burn it.

I'll just pray that she finds better love than I on Valentine's Day.

November Rain

"It's hard to hold a candle in the cold, November rain."

Sundays are my most intense, uncomforting days of the week. All day long, I send my body and soul through intense rigorous gauntlets that beat on my mind and muscle.

I have many friends who are also in pain right now. They too struggle with physical problems and depend on more than just medicine to overcome the despair. Other friends of mine struggle emotionally with broken hearts and shattered feelings. Today, a few of my closest friends are left out in the dark and in the rain. I'm speaking symbolically.

From the early AM, all the way until the evening, I do what I can to help these people I love. Though I am no one special, I try my best to offer encouragement and prayer.

While trying to bring spiritual and physical aide to my people, I still am fighting myself to stay alive on the battlefield. Life is a battle and the war between Good and evil constantly drives on. The wear and tear of trying to do the right thing is difficult. I am emotionally drained from trying to do what is right. I could quit, but then the enemy would win.

I look forward to things on a Sunday like working with my high school kids, helping them study Bible verses and an evening of basketball. I play basketball with some real warriors. I fight tooth and nail to keep up to par with these amazing men. They all perform differently but move with such speed, skill, and stamina.

And now as the day comes to a close, the thunder rolls, and the rain beats down me. Now it's my turn to be in the dark and in the rain. My body steams from the intense work out and I look to cool my skull with the pouring water.

I hate this time of the day... the closing hour... the final scene before the screen goes black and the words "Executive Producer..." appear. The pain I've shared with my friends, as well as personal hurts my own heart received today finally catch up to me. Like the cold, today's insults and struggles wrap my body. The emotional and physical pain keeps me warm in the dark.

Darkness, cold air, falling rain, loud silence, and myself all holding on to the final heartbeats of the night. A battalion of demons surround my home, and breathe heavily on my window. This little Light of mine, I'm still gonna let it shine. But as the elements of the night pour down hard on me, it's hard to keep that light shining.

It's hard to hold a candle in these hard times. To my friends out there who are in pain too... remember, nothing last forever, even cold November rain.

This is my mom. There are many like her but this one is mine.

There are some things that no child should ever witness their mother do. On a yellow legal notepad, one could easily fill out a few thousand examples of disturbing acts that could traumatize a young infant, or break the heart of an older son/daughter.

I do love my mother and talk to her often. It is very difficult to have a real conversation with her because English is not her primary language. She shuts out the American culture. When she does embrace our customs, she accepts common pop-culture, new trendy concepts, or liberal education.

I love my mom because God tells me to do so. If it weren't for Him, I'd boot my mom from my life entirely. Yet by loving her, I constantly have to turn my cheek from her stupid and ignorant sins she freely chooses to act upon.

Since my mom was always away from home growing up, my dad raised me. It was just me and him....and all his beautiful female secretaries. They helped take me to school, cleaned our house, and make me meals from time to time. My dad was quite the Howard Stark in his company, but my mom had other professions.

At times, I have had to "borrow" other mother figures in my life. They have all done a superb job in raising me. One of the biggest founding mothers of my Christian zeal, I owe to Jane Pichette of Vista, CA. Like Jane, there have been many women and men of all ages that have been a parental figure in my life. I do love their guidance and of course, will not cease loving my own dad and mom. I remain in contact with my parents and speak to them often, mainly by phone.

Painful memories have echoed through the silence in between words of short phone calls but nothing prepared me for the shock I received tonight on my cell phone. As if the devil wasn't already working me from all angles under the sun, here comes another blow to my head. My mom sends me some devastating text messages to me....well, they were actually photos.



.... no.... much worse....





I don't know why I'm alive. I'm constantly reminded of how much I've failed or how wrong or how horrible I am. I don't understand why Christ would love me.

Our modern church is so dead it's hard to find real brothers and sisters in Christ that I can cry and pray with. I was at a Christian store recently and after my purchase/transaction, the cashier asked, "Is there anything I can pray about for you?"

I told her no... I didn't want her to have nightmares.