Phoenix Fire
Bio: I'm just a simple, freckle-faced southern girl with big dreams and an even bigger God. I do my best to live a normal life, but in these times being a christian, constantly seeking after the will of God and dying to my own, is anything but normal. I fight the battle against stereotypes, hatred, sadness, and self-loathing. Just like any other twenty-something singleton living with her parents in the suburbs of Dallas, I have to admit that I long for something more. A cooler car, a better job, a husband, a place to call my own... But I know that my time is coming. This is only a season of my life, and I am only a young fledgling, recently reborn from the ashes of another life. I can only imagine what more God has in store and I leave it all in His more than capable hands!
Strengths and Abilities: Average, but supernatural when connected to the Holy Spirit
Weaknesses: People-pleasing and the need to maintain control
Weapons: The Sword of the Spirit (God's Word)
(My super-hero alter-ego, kind of ordinary, but I like it! ;) Anyway, I'll be posting some costume sketches tomorrow. Come back and help me pick which one to create and wear this Halloween!)
Friends are like paintbrushes,
All different shapes, sizes, textures, fibers.
They produce contrasting strokes and effects.
They are the tools that create,
Each used to paint pieces of my portrait.
I do not hold the brushes or choose the colors,
No, only the Master can make those decisions.
Only He knows what the final project will express.
I am only the blank paper,
Waiting to absorb the chosen color,
Soaking up every ounce of paint
And longing to see what I will be!
My life seems to oscillate
From one place to another
And then back again.
States of coming and going
Going and coming.
Periods of rest and those of action
That only lead to more rest.
People get thrown in the ebb & flow
As I go along with my journey.
Two homes is one too many
But I can ask for no less
For, without one or the other
I am a vase.
Formed over hours,
In the master’s hands.
Left on the high shelf
For time to dry and
Understand my shape.
He’s taken me down;
My day in the kiln is soon…
How I long to be finished,
All painted and glazed.
Then one day I’ll be set,
Holding flowers for all to see!
I am the newly born chick,
Freshly hatched from ashes.
Ashes of a life gone by,
Of a season ended.
I must re-learn things forgotten
Yet some memories hold fast.
I’m reminded of life as a bird of fire;
One fully-grown and quite alight…
But now I cannot fly
Or roam the skies alone.
I must rehearse my voice
And remember my song,
For I feel the day coming
When I’ll sing with a throng.
I must depend on instinct
And old memories
As I face the test
I often don't know what to say, or why to speak, or how to say what's been pressed upon me. Why do my words mean anything? How can they relate to anyone? They're just a piece of me, why would anyone need to hear them? I remember days when I needed to hear simple words from a friendly heart, but I don't always see myself as someone to come to for words of wisdom. And then I remember that the wisdom is not mine, even what little counsel I can give is from my Father. He is the one writing the words; He's the one that changed my heart and made it simple, ready, willing and able to encourage. He is the one my heart knows and learns from; it yearns to be more like Him and, therefore, does it's best to imitate His love...
