Think Week | Part 1
James Blake’s song, “Retrograde” comforts me as I sit on the plane. Patiently waiting to touch the mysterious land (now only a few hundred miles in distance). A rush of excitement flows through my veins. I forgot I was listening to music through my earphones because the lyrics were traveling to my heart instead of my head. The words spoke to me like an aged conversation that I had with my conscious.
“You’re on your own. In a world you’ve grown. Few more years to go, don’t let the hurdle fall. So be the girl you loved. Be the girl you loved. I’ll wait. So show me why you’re strong. Ignore everybody else, we’re alone now.”
Thanks in advance.
Thanks for my past.
Thanks for today.
Thanks for allowing me to see my way.
Your heart is admirable.
You’ve changed so much in me.
You set my smiles free.
Now they roam cross continents,
And spread to new souls.
Promising to linger like the first positive plague.
You make the word “celebration”
feel like the only option.
Thank you for allowing me to live out your land.
Adereni from Thailand
9/25: Part 1
The weather said it was going to rain all week but it didn’t. The clouds wouldn’t shed its tears for me. Instead, the sun accompanied me everywhere I went. It was as if God was telling me not to trust what I see, and a better life was waiting with him. And, I finally did.
9/25: Part 2
There is something special about existing in a place where you don’t comprehend the popularly accepted language.
9/26: Part 1
But it is just as the Scriptures say, “What God has planned for people who love him is more than eyes have seen or ears have heard. It has never even entered our minds!” 1 Corinthians 2:9
9/26: Part 2
By allowing your eyes to only see the familiar unless someone accompanies you is a sin. Sin by it’s true definition; an act of not being whole with ones self.
I was recommended three forms of literature from a friend. All were great in introduction. However, one greeted me at my intersection of reflection and divinity to tell me my next turn would be right. Aspire, by Kevin Hall