Today, I got sick. But something wonderful happened. A lot of wonderful things happened. For one, my guitar was done and ready. I brought it home tonight. I was really happy. The sound of the chords is even more beautiful than what I could’ve imagined. They filed the fretes for me at no cost; Ed said the guy did it for the guitar, that it deserved it.
Another wonderful thing that happened, that I now recall, is my rather wonderful dream two nights ago. A man with a sword tried to kill me. I told him he would never be able to, because his sword would not cut through me. Normally, he would’ve motionned to stab me–at the arm I presented him with–and I would’ve woken up before being dismembered. But this time… this was different. He repeatedly swung at my outstretched arm. But, at best, all he could do was cause a bruise. Once, on my right hand, the strike was particularly hard. The skin broke. A small, tiny bead of blood formed on my skin. But nothing more. My mother was stabbed at once or twice. She, too, remained relateively unscathed.
This is a miracle.
Never have my dreams ever allowed me to have such control. I’ve never been able to have any power whatsoever. Every time I tried to perform magic–of any kind!–I would always look like a fool and run away. But now… I actually don’t even have to think for my body to be invincible! You see me thrilled, yet a little scared. But now, even I have to face it:
This most likely would not have happened had I not renewed my faith in God.
To further pursue this little line of miracles, I present you the event that just took place. I was in bed, as I’m sick and weary tonight. I was listening to Lifehouse’s Broken, and thinking about the person I love. I was thinking about how my heart is no longer in my body, but in his hands. I though about how it may be bleeding, and how he would carefully suck the leaking blood and blow it back into my veins. I thought this to be a tedious task, and so I patched the leaks with band-aids. Normally, this wouldn’t have changed anything: the little cuts and leaks would have kept spewing blood despite my best effort.
The band-aids remained there. And his face reflected the joy only angels can display.
I cried. Tears of joy–of elation, exhaltation! There are no words to describe this feeling of… of power, of self control! I’ve never felt so good in my life. Which is ultimately ironic because I haven’t felt this sick in a long time.
For this–for all of this–I owe Lora Innes more than I could ever imagine. She’s given me so much, with just a few words. How powerful, words can be! I owe Lora, yes, but I also owe that person who, only a week ago, challenged my position as a Catholic. Saying that I had such “potential” without using it was really a slap in the face. I thought I believed–I wanted to think I believed. I knew I kept doubting and doubting. I know now that doubts are the bane of my existence: I need to firmly believe or something or not believe in it at all. I need to stop doubting everything I think and see and hear. Maybe if I actually fully believe in something, my life will be easier. (Hasn’t it already become much more lighter?)
I believe God exists.
If you want to contest that, please go ahead. I believe in what I believe. If you absolutely want to contradict everything the Bible says, go ahead. Be my guest. I’ve done so myself, many, many times. The Lord’s made my life so much brighter, and I’ll keep on believing in Him ’till the end.
Hypocrite? Perhaps. But I intend to repent. (I’ve sinned so many times; so little time, so much to repent for!)
That will be all.
Today, I got sick. But something wonderful happened. A lot of wonderful things happened. For one, my guitar was done and ready. I brought it home tonight. I was really happy. The sound of the chords is even more beautiful than what I could’ve imagined. They filed the frets for me at no cost; Ed said the guy did it for the guitar, that it deserved it.
(more…)
