Creatures are not born for desires unless satisfaction for these desires exists. A baby feels hunger; well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim; well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire; well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. – C.S. Lewis

Visit She Loves Magazine for more!

And I have to keep reminding myself that if I do not stay full of love from God myself, I have nothing left to give to anyone else. I like knowing it’s ok to fill up extravagantly on love; I just wish I did it more often.

From She Loves Magazine – here I am learning fresh and daily more of what it means to live – and I wonder if I’ve ever done it.

He writes: “We live in a fast-paced society. Instead of letting timesaving devices, such a microwaves, computers, etc. provide us with more leisure time, we have allowed them to raise our expectations about how much we should be able to accomplish in one hour. So we rush about, trying to have it all and do it all, eating fast food, speed-reading books and communicating via curt voice mails. We operate on high-tech time. The rhythm of the natural world is different–think of the pace at which the ocean waves roll in and out and the time it takes the sun to set or a bud to become a flower. The natural world is never in a hurry. It has its own tempo, and nothing is so urgent that it can’t follow its own, gentle, yet deliberate pace.”

http://shelovesmagazine.com/

Keep me safe, O God,
for I have come to you for refuge.
I said to the Lord, “You are my Master!
Every good thing I have comes from you.” Ps. 16:1-2

That spinning drivel of my life – all that entertains and glitters.

Sharp shards in a nightly twister

Bump and bruise, beat and blind me. 

Caloused. 

I curl fetal in the midst of the storm. 

Is there no one to save?

 

Things I guarded, that brought delight

Blown, I fall from one winsome height. 

Where to plant my feet, just one more time?

To ground myself on anything known. 

 

I’ve been filled by people, studies. 

Taught good words, preached at, sung to. 

 

But all my peace mysteriously flung to 

Hills unscalable, heights unknown.

 

Oh that this hour soaked with the sweat of prayer

May reach your ears. Call to your Spirit. 

Oh heart of my King!

Draw near to rescue me from these rote feelings 

Of less than beauty, short of hope, less than peace. 

 

Be all my Jesus. Please be attentive to my pen. 

The only seemingly working piece of me. 

Voice drowned out, heart a smoldering heap.

Hear my pen, collect this passionless heart and be my one and all.