Belief is a lot like love.
It can’t be a feeling, because when you need it most you’re feelings are caught up in the mess of life.
So tonight, when things feel so hopeless, I’m going to believe.
That things will get better.
May132012
6PM
I really like this drawing.
(Source: jessica-artportfolio, via sm0kealarm)
May72012
Newest hat, kind of head over heels for it.
May62012
yes please.
(Source: scorpionflowery, via v-ii-v-e-r-e)
8PM
My hope, my home, my calling is in a heavenly country looking upward and forwards, longing to bring glory to my God, my Father whom is not ashamed to call me daughter. Seeking to serve Him in this world and the next, to spread His words, His hope, His love. He has put eternity in our hearts, this world will never satisfy my craving for a home; I look on, cherishing expectation of the fulfillment of all of His promises, being fully assured that He is preparing a home for me.
In the meantime, this world tests my faith, strengthens my convictions, breaks my heart and pushes me to a life lived completely for the One who gave His life for me. He has created me with a desire to give my heart away to His service, to allow my flesh to drown in His love and resurrect in His love. It’s not enough to just believe, it never has been. So what am I doing for His kingdom?; what is He doing in my heart?
This gypsy heart is beating for a finer country, but won’t find it on this earth. So, I look to a better country, a heavenly country.
May32012
these lizards enjoy using this boy as a climbing frame.
(Source: love-your-spleen)
May22012
This is my friend, Devon Nicole; she plays music, you should check her out by clicking on this picture.
8AM
The only thing better than getting a street sweeper ticket that you absolutely can’t afford is getting it before 7am; the only thing better than that is getting cussed at for it at 7am.
April292012
“
If you were coming in the fall,
I’d brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.
If I could see you in a year,
I’d wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.
If only centuries delayed,
I’d count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped,
Into Van Dieman’s land.
If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I’d toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.
But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time’s uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.
← Older entries
Page 1 of 61
