27 November 2008

Reality

What is Real?





That's the question asked by the Velveteen Rabbit and answered by the Skin Horse in the following excerpt:





"What is Real?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"


"Real isn't how your are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves, then you become Real."


"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit


"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."


"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"


"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."





So . . . who am I . . . Really?



I'm a ragamuffin, an addict, a sinner, and a wretch



who is loved by God and redeemed by the blood of Christ on the cross



an heir to the throne, a daughter of the King of kings



A Princess



who loves the color pink and refuses to 'grow up'



I am Me!


04 July 2008

ADD, not math, Attention Deficit Disorder

The last several weeks I have been pondering whether or not I have been blessed/cursed with Attention Deficit Disorder and I have come to the conclusion that pink is my favorite color, actually pink is my only color.



If you are confused by that first statment welcome to the club!



I have been doing a lot of reading lately . . . I love to read and can easily get lost in a book for hours . . . probably one of the reasons I have not been diagnosed as A.D.D.



. . . so I wrote the above about an hour ago, I have much more to say, but I got distracted--this is the problem with the Internet, there's SO much out there just begging for my attention . . .