lost

...unquestioning automatonsblindly marching to the beat -an eerie crunching soundhoards of shuffling feet...(from silent moments)

The animals known as human beings live in humongous condominium blocks, just going about their daily lives. I've come to realize that it's just a modern jungle. And I'm the girl who's wandered into the forest.

We were all born to be peaceful citizens of the world. Take care of your global garden and do not allow evil gardeners to try and convince you which flowers are ugly and which should be destroyed. This is God's universe and he is the master gardener of all. If you see ugliness in his creations, then you see ugliness in our Creator. Wake up. If we eliminate all colors in his garden, then what would be a rainbow with only one color? And what would be a garden with only one kind of flower? Why would the Creator create a vast assortment of plants, ethnicities, and animals, if only one beast or seed is to dominate all of existence?

I told him I had once lost everything I had, too, and that I think that can be God__ way of building walls around us to force us to look up at Him.

Writing a story or a novel is one way of discovering sequence in experience, of stumbling upon cause and effect in the happenings of a writer's own life. This has been the case with me. Connections slowly emerge. Like distant landmarks you are approaching, cause and effect begin to align themselves, draw closer together. Experiences too indefinite of outline in themselves to be recognized for themselves connect and are identified as a larger shape. And suddenly a light is thrown back, as when your train makes a curve, showing that there has been a mountain of meaning rising behind you on the way you've come, is rising there still, proven now through retrospect. Writing fiction has developed in me an abiding respect for the unknown in a human lifetime and a sense of where to look for the threads, how to follow, how to connect, find in the thick of the tangle what clear line persists. The strands are all there: to the memory nothing is ever lost.

Jesus Christ came not to condemn you but to save you, knowing your name, knowing all about you, knowing your weight right now, knowing your age, knowing what you do, knowing where you live, knowing what you ate for supper and what you will eat for breakfast, where you will sleep tonight, how much your clothing cost, who your parents were. He knows you individually as though there were not another person in the entire world. He died for you as certainly as if you had been the only lost one. He knows the worst about you and is the One who loves you the most. If you are out of the fold and away from God, put your name in the words of John 3:16 and say, __ord, it is I. I__ the cause and reason why Thou didst on earth come to die._ That kind of positive, personal faith and a personal Redeemer is what saves you. If you will just rush in there, you do not have to know all the theology and all the right words. You can say, __ am the one He came to die for._ Write it down in your heart and say, __esus, this is me__hee and me,_ as though there were no others. Have that kind of personalized belief in a personal Lord and Savior.

You can never be lost when you learn to get lost into the blue of the sea..

When joy is LOST, hope can easily FIND it... It's only your HOPE, that knows the where about of your JOY! If you lose hope you lose everything!

Love banged me in ways, Even lust would envy.

There was this saying that kept on haunting her mind _ tears make you seem weak. And she wasn__ weak. It was just that sometimes when she was all alone, it had made everything seemed so much real and convincing.

The reality is that people reach for a Bible when they're feeling lost. But if they hadn't shelved it, maybe they wouldn't have gotten lost.

And truths, these days, are spokenThe same way promises are made,With gritted teeth and crossed fingers.

Life is fleeting, and the wonder can be lost within the confusion of worldly reality.

Not for everyone a darkest night is bid farewell by a bright sunrise.

Home was never a dream for homeless people as they used to have their homes. Living in a home was their reality. Now we need to help them to find the lost-reality again.

You get use to someone__tart to like them, even__nd they leave. In the end, everyone leaves.

Who am I to decide if he is worth my love or not when I can't even...

Once I have impounded love and towed it into the confine of words, I have lost it altogether.