Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

The Look

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I laid out in my lounger float in the pool today reading a novel, and if what you do on NYE has any indication of what the year ahead holds, I’m good with it. But anyway, at one point I went inside to refill my water. My husband sat at his computer, and I went over to deposit a kiss on his lips. Afterwards, he looked up at me, and y’all. I wish I had photographic evidence of those eyes, but the best I can do is burn the image into my brain. I’m not sure what it is about this man, but his eyes talk. They always have.

His eyes are like a book, or a window into the soul. With a gaze he can proclaim strong words even though they aren’t verbally spoken. I mean, if his eyes were a movie screen, the title that flashed up at that moment would have stated, “I love you.”

See, though, that doesn’t even convey. His eyes said the three, simple words, but they somehow said more. They said it way better than a phrase could utter.

Then he said the words, a confirmation of what his beautiful brown eyes had already proclaimed so loudly. A confirmation I didn’t require, but some good cement anyhow. My heart smiled.

“I love you too,” I said out loud, wondering if my soul-windows carried even half the weight of his own.

I took the vision of “the look” back to my pool lounger (since I couldn’t stand there staring at him googly-eyed all afternoon), and I floated along in my pool of chlorinated water and love-soaked emotion. I might as well have been on a cloud.

I had been reading a novel about a woman unfulfilled. Married to the father of her children, and the daughters now off to college, she felt empty inside. It made me sad that love could fade with time, and even though the book was a work of fiction, I knew plenty of people who could call it their memoir.

As I floated along, book turned over on my bare belly, marking the page to which I’d return, I thought about how easy it could be to neglect the flame. I’d been working a lot more while orienting to a new job. The holidays had rushed by, preceded by the busy work of setting up a new house to call home. I knew it took intention to keep anything going, be it a hobby you enjoyed or a relationship you adored.

This morning I had read a verse in the Bible that said, “for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also (Matthew 6:21).

Jesus was talking about finances, mostly, but I think the wisdom could go for relationships also. Where we devote our time, we see our passions. We invest into what we hold dear, and the things we hold like treasure, are the things we love the most. The verses right after happen to talk about the eyes being the lamp to the body (fitting, I know), and it says if your eyes are generous, then your body is full of light. If not, they are full of darkness. I just knew that when Ben looked at me, he was generous with his love. I could see the light of that love. And I never wanted to not see that!

I prayed, and I also reminded myself to be intentional in my marriage. To continue to store up treasure in my marriage, so that my heart would always follow. To be generous with my love, so much that it shone out the lamp of my body, and my spouse would know what mattered to my heart. I wanted each passing year for my marriage to remain strong, for the fire to keep burning, and for my husband’s eyes to never stop proclaiming loudly the love he felt for me.

Happy New Years, guys!

The Gift of Giving

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I can remember past Christmas Eves, staying up late with my spouse, and excitedly preparing the presents for our children to find on Christmas morning. There were presents from Mom and Dad, but also the secret ones that would be left by Santa. Of course, we knew they were all from us, but our children would still see the magical make-believe of the jolly fat guy in red. I can recall always being a little jealous of that guy. I mean, he got to receive all the glory without doing any of the work! I was the one scouring store shelves for the precious sought after gift that year, yet this invisible man of our imaginations got all the credit! I remember putting a lot of thought into which present I’d let Santa put his name on, and more importantly, which ones I could sign with my real John Hancock. It came down to the fact that I wanted the good stuff to be from “mom,” and St. Nick could take credit for the socks and undies. I suppose it surprised me when I realized this year I wasn’t quite so obsessed with the possession of accolades. I was gonna give Santa the credit for the electric scooters and the humongous Playmobil school house. Which, by the way, was the thing she wanted more than anything else! So, what had changed?

I recently overheard a conversation between women. One lady was lamenting over the fact that the recipient of her gift each year never said thank you. In light of the lack of gratitude, she had decided to withdraw her present passing. She had come to the conclusion to stop giving where it wasn’t appreciated.

I. Get. It.

This Advent Season, the time of anticipation prior to the arrival of Christmas morning, I’ve really thought about the gift. You know, gift with a capital G… the greatest gift. If it doesn’t fill you with shock and awe, then I’d encourage you to keep thinking. Keep focusing on what really went down, until it clicks. Like, for real.

The One, the beginning and end, the Alpha and Omega, the maker of Heaven and earth, took the form of the weakest among us. The One who had all power and dominion, and a pretty sweet home already, made the decision to lower Himself to our level.

First, He came as a baby. The weakest of all humanity. It wasn’t a magic baby, like that fireball kid on The Incredibles. He couldn’t hold up His head, and had to have Mary change his soiled underpants. We don’t often think of our Savior in such a demeaning position, but He did that. He made Himself like us.

Second, He arrived the child of a young woman much like someone you may know. Mary wasn’t the daughter of a well-to-do congressman, or the sole heir of an oil tycoon. She didn’t have a typed out birth plan, with a personal doula, or even a photo ready nursery where He would lay His head. Point being, God’s son could have come down on a streak of lighting, in His full glory, ready to take the throne, and smite His enemies into compliance, but that’s not how it went down. He lowered Himself to the weakest position, placed in the most undesirable circumstances, from a family lineage of prostitutes, adulterers, and murderers, to begin a revolution that would change the future of all mankind. But here’s the real kicker…

He did it without thought of what we would do afterwards.

A Son was given, as a sacrifice to all. Even the ones who would deny Him.

His love is poured out for the very people who hate Him, even knowing they wouldn’t send a thank you card.

Christmas is a reminder of a gift given, with no promise of accolades or even acceptance. He didn’t sacrifice Himself for Himself, but rather for us, even knowing that many would say, “nah. No thanks, I’m good without it.”

It didn’t come in shiny paper and big bows. But it also didn’t come with a return policy. It had no “use-by” date to prevent expiration (until the wedding feast, that is), and no stern statement by Dad of, “you better keep your room clean or we’ll give it to someone who will appreciate more!”

The gift of unconditional love

He just gave the gift. He simply put it out there. It’s like, He said, “I know some kids will reject it, but I’m gonna give it anyway.”

I’m gonna give this because I love you, even if you don’t love me back.

It’s occurred to me that giving is a gift. To place myself as a servant, pouring out love to others, with no anticipation of how they’ll react, is a blessing that alines me with the character of my Savior. I don’t need to take the credit or receive a pat on the back. I don’t need you to acknowledge that I love you for me to love you well. Jesus died for my grandchildren that haven’t even been born, the grandchildren that will have their own free will to throw the gift away if they so choose. Yet, He gives.

May we all learn a little better each day how to be extravagant givers like Jesus, pouring out of ourselves, yet not requiring to sign the gift tag with our name. Giving in love, with no thought of what we can get in return, or if our present will be received graciously. To love is to give, without expectation. To give is the gift. The best gift of all.

How Christians Should Be Responding to Kyle Rittenhouse and Such

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I can’t tell you how many times over the past month or so I’ve seen a controversy come across my social media feed and been disgusted. I’ve had thoughts, so many thoughts, but other than discussing them with my husband, I’ve mostly pushed them aside. And I certainly haven’t blogged about them. It’s felt pointless, straddling on hopeless, and I suppose the depressing thought of that has for the most part caused me to crawl into a hole when it comes to sharing my opinion on political/religious matters.

This morning I received an email from a pastor/reader of my posts. Thank you, sir. Your encouragement and comments of camaraderie were a blessing to me. It’s nice to remember I’m not alone in my feelings of sadness for the direction the church has taken. And while disappointing overall, it’s also encouraging to know I’m not the only lover of Jesus who has been attacked or vilified when suggesting we as followers of Christ should carry ourselves in a manner that models our Savior. Yes, I’ve been discouraged to share, even though my words are ones of love, because it’s exhausting to share what you deeply believe is true, in a spirit of kindness, and be met with jeers and laughter from your Christian brothers or sisters. Yet, isn’t that what Jesus did? Despite the angry voices, He pressed forward. When called a blasphemer, He held His tongue. Instead of going with popular opinion of religion at the time, He spoke about things like drinking His blood and eating His flesh. He knew He would lose followers, but He had no choice but to share the truth.

Now, first off, I’m in no way comparing myself to Jesus. Not at all! But I do pay close attention to His behavior. Every day when I read the Bible I absorb His Way. My goal in this life is to be His disciple. Not because I must do this for salvation! His grace is enough. I strive to be a good disciple because I love Him. With that in mind, I follow His example as much as I can. For today, that means speaking truth even when it hurts my feelings and heart at the reception of my words by some Christians. But again, the church leaders of Christ’s time didn’t like being told they were wrong either.

Big news was released today concerning Kyle Rittenhouse, and while this is a very deep subject that sheds a sad light on the inadequacy of our systems, I won’t go into every aspect of the case. As a human, I believe inequality could easily be witnessed in the proceedings, but I only want to touch on a small slice of this pie. That piece is how we as Christians should be responding to situations like this. I don’t care how those who don’t follow Jesus are talking about this case. I mean, I do, but it doesn’t bother me as much as fellow Christians speaking erroneously on earthly matters. Because our words impact Kingdom Matters. Allow me to explain.

As a proclaimed Christian we must understand we are representing Christ. When our words and actions thereafter don’t consistently speak love, we are misrepresenting our Lord. Jesus told His disciples that people would know they followed Him because of their love. We cannot forget that most important commandment, and when we do, we are a stumbling block to the salvation of others.

For example, we cannot say we are Christians, aka, followers of Christ, but then put a bumper sticker on our truck that proclaims, “let’s go, Brandon.”

We cannot choose to say a young man who killed people is a “hero.” We can’t celebrate the very poor decision of a immature mind to take a weapon across state lines to a civil unrest situation.

I mean, we can, but we shouldn’t.

We have to stop “taking sides” based on politics and understand that as followers of Jesus, the only side is love. We have to stop basing our opinions and decisions on our political platforms. When we do this, a sad situation where poor decisions were made becomes more about gun rights than it does the pointless death of fellow humans made in the image of the God we serve. We end up seeing rioters through the human eyes of destruction of property rather than empathetic eyes that try and see how a person can be pushed to make a big demonstration to get the desired results.

It seems like, to me, when I read the life of Jesus, I see a man who was without sin, yet He tried to sacrifice, serve, and love those who did sin. He saw to the heart of why the woman at the well did what she did. He loved her there. That love brought her out of her pit. He knew how to understand pain, and how to help others walk out of that pain. He never told someone, “that happened, like, a hundred years ago. Why are you still mad?!”

He was totally selfless! When something was an inconvenience to Him (like hoards of people following Him when He was just trying to grieve the murder of His cousin, John), He didn’t respond with anger. He didn’t say, “you should have thought to pack your lunch for a desert trek!”

The scripture says, “He had compassion on them.”

Despite His pain, He fed them.

He didn’t tell the woman with the blood condition He was busy with another ministry. He didn’t get angry when she touched His garment without asking. He didn’t worry that the crowd He fed would become dependent on Him for their fish and bread. He saw the pain on Martha’s face and brought her brother back to her, even though He knew the eternity that awaited him. Yes, He did it to lead others to the Father, but He also had compassion. He always had compassion. We are lacking in compassion, and our behavior isn’t bringing anyone to the Father.

We have confused our relationship with Christ with our political affiliations. We have assumed that Christianity and political platforms go hand in hand, but this is causing us to ostracize the people Jesus has called us to love and serve. We have taken a very fleshly stand and it’s having Kingdom repercussions. So, people who would benefit from the love of Christ, are instead being branded the enemy. We have taken a divisive stand rather than a servant heart. When we do this, we make a hero out of a confused boy, and a villain out of a president.

In fact, we laugh at chants of “f*€k Biden,” and we smirk at hateful rants. A political leader (if they’re on your particular side) can share a cartoon of themselves murdering their political opponents with a samurai sword, and we can say, “he didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke.”

Because, see, hurtful jokes become ok. Jeers, sarcasm, hatred, bigotry, selfishness, and greed become something we celebrate, and in fact, elect to office. We don’t want a Savior like Jesus anymore. We want a warrior who will annihilate our enemies (if memory serves, that’s what the disciples originally wanted Jesus to do too, yet that wasn’t His way.) How in the world we came to a place where this seems the way of Jesus is beyond me! The only thing I can figure out is people must not be reading their Bibles. I guess they’re simply listening to TikTok videos or their favorite news channel for their beliefs on life.

And that’s fine! If you want to be hateful and selfish, that’s your right. God has given us free will. My problem is when you give yourself the label of Christian, yet forget it means you are a disciple of His way. Not the way of Republicans, Fox News, or Breitbart. If you’re going to use the family name, you have to uphold the stellar reputation set by a man who told His bodyguard Peter to put down the sword. And then He put His abductor and murderer’s ear back on!

This country has become very divisive, but we can never put things back together by choosing sides. Instead we as Christians must understand when to surrender. We have to surrender our earthly ideals to His vision for the Church. We have to understand that servanthood is what He calls us to. We have to remember that the fruits of the Spirit are what we must bear, according to scripture, and that it says very little about bearing arms, unless it’s to lay them down, turn our cheeks, or “forgive them” when they know not what they’re doing.

We have a responsibility as Christians to respond to earthly and political matters in a certain way, and it’s not to “stand our ground” and protect our freedoms or rights here on earth. Our responsibility is to the Kingdom of Heaven and building that Kingdom. The Kingdom isn’t built by politicians, but rather built by love, by healing, and by repentance. Jesus showed us that healing, repentance, and eternal life did not come by earthly matters or the law, but through His sacrifice of love. Now our job, as disciples of Christ, is to show the way to eternal life and freedom from sin. Recently we’ve been pointing a path that while it will lead to religious accolades, will not necessarily lead people to Jesus. We have to work on this.

Don’t Underestimate the Significance of Your Calling as a Parent

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I fell asleep a little earlier than usual last night. After a long and stressful day at work, I was beat. I said bedtime prayers individually with each of my daughters, and then I fell asleep before my head even settled on the pillow. A couple of hours later I woke suddenly, and keeping quiet I gazed upon my eleven year old preparing for bed. I watched in a sleepy joy while she read from a kid’s devotional book I had bought for her, and then while she proceeded to read from her Bible. I fell back asleep, contentment carrying me to dreamland.

My husband and I recently had a conversation about the amazing plan God must have for one of our children. How else could we explain the course our lives had taken?! We both carried pasts that were the whispers in church circles. An addict and alcoholic having a baby?! But God’s Grace had won. I tried to commit suicide by hanging as a child, but the poorly constructed noose didn’t work. My husband had a horrific car wreck as a young man, unrestrained, that left him without front teeth, but somehow no other injuries. When he awoke in the wreckage, he had been misplaced from the crushed-in driver’s seat, to the less impacted passenger side. And these are just a couple of our miraculous survival stories. Our past problems caused us to live individual, high-risk lifestyles, but in His mercy we were protected from our own stupidity.

As a teenager, new to the faith, I had known Ben was going to be my husband. I wasn’t very confident yet in my ability to hear God’s voice, but I never doubted he was the one. The problems and roadblocks of the world would separate us. For ten years, even! But somehow what God meant to place together, no man could keep apart. In my thirties, I finally married the man I knew at nineteen God had for me.

I could drone on and on how I believe my current path was meant to be, but I’ll spare you any further details. The point is, I have seen the hand of God in my life time and time again. So has my spouse. We consider each of our children a gift from God, and we have no doubt that the Lord has wonderful plans for their lives.

My husband used to own his own business, and he even built rockets once upon a time. But during this season, he is a homemaker. He homeschools our children and does about a billion other important tasks at home, while I serve in the role of primary and sole breadwinner. Albeit untraditional, this works wonderfully for our family. I think some men might tend to feel unfulfilled in their role as a stay-at-home dad. Not simply because society has deemed it a woman’s place over the years, but because, let’s face it; full-time parenting is hard! I’ve been in his position, and it’s crazy, hectic homeschooling multiple young ones. There’s one thing that he’s done that makes it fit him so much better than it did me, though. He understands his calling.

One day, a couple of years ago, my husband commented, “God told me today that what I’m doing is important.”

As simple as that. The encouragement of the Holy Spirit gave my man peace and purpose. We knew that financially we were doing what made sense, but budget balancing won’t fill your heart with purpose. The Spirit drives my spouse to parent well, and his determination and commitment are seen in the fruit of our babies.

It’s easy to see parenting as a chore. It’s work! It’s the hardest job you’ll ever love. It’s moments of ridiculous frustration mixed with moments of surpassing joy. It’s a love/hate relationship that you’d never let go. It’s the thing you need a break from, but also the thing you miss the second it’s gone. It’s a journey of perseverance, a practice in patience, and somehow humbling to how little we know. What we tend to forget, is that it’s also a great task for the Kingdom of God. As parents, we hold in our hands the ability to mend, but also to break. We have to be intentional to keep the damage to a minimum, and passionate to cultivate a loving environment of acceptance and success. We love our children as Jesus loved us; not for what we receive in return. The greatest gift we can give our babies is the heart of Jesus. This unconditional love that carries the fruits of the Spirit. Thankfully, perfection isn’t required, just the ability to show them the perfection that exists in Jesus, and that is there for their taking within them, as His perfect love resides there. This is the calling.

My husband takes seriously his calling, and it’s something I remind myself of often also. I mentioned in the beginning my girl reading her Bible and seeking God’s truth. This is something we taught! I don’t say that in a prideful way, for I know it’s only the true work of the Holy Spirit that keeps her doing it when the lights go down and she doesn’t know her parents are watching. That’s what truly gave my heart joy. She was able to experience the peace that comes from the Lord. We set up the practice, and we modeled the behavior, and the rest God took and ran with.

Children can be taught anything. They can be modeled hate. Abusive marriages often arise from watching abusive parents. Racism is engrained, and a false doctrine of religious works can be given precedent over the grace of God. You can even “scare the hell” out of your children by fire and brimstone, if you so choose, but when the lights go out at night, it’s the peace of abiding in Him that will persevere. That’s the calling, and it’s not an insignificant one.

It’s no secret that people have taken notice of the state of our world lately. I can hardly spend a few minutes on social media before seeing the hopelessness that persists because of the current, social climate. All I can think lately is, it’s up to me. Unless Jesus comes soon, the future is my children. It’s your children. The Bible tells a parable of ten virgins who had to keep their lamps lit as they waited on the bridegroom. Half let their oil run out and their light diminish. When the bridegroom came, only those who had remained prepared were rewarded. We are the ten ladies. The coming of Jesus is our groom. We don’t know exactly when He’ll return. It might not be in our lifetime. Does that mean our light goes out when we die? No! We keep our light burning through the oil of our children. The light of Jesus shines to future generations through the preparation we make as parents. The hope of the future lives in the loving light they carry to their own children. When He comes, no matter when, I want my lamp to still be burning for His return. That is the calling. It’s one we all share.

How to Feel Joy in Pain

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Yesterday I was driving to run a few errands. I had one day off before returning to my stressful job in the ICU, and that meant the day was dwindling away with unpleasurable tasks rather than sitting by the pool and reading a book. Yet, despite my mundane to-do’s, I cranked up the radio with a smile, hummed happily as I admired the blue sky, and drove forward in joy while the warmth of the day rested on my happy face. I had a minuscule moment of surprise over my unexpected elation, before it hit me why I was walking on sunshine at all. Every day got better than the last!

Look, I’m a realist. I’m not going to try and sprinkle rainbows on your cloudy day. I’m not spouting a magic cure or trying to be a lifestyle coach of optimism. But what I will do is share with you my life experiences.

I suffer from depression, and I also suffer from anxiety. Some days are better than others. Some days, though, I’m sad for no reason, and that drives me mad. I go through seasons where my melancholy mood is worse than others, and I can be negatively affected by work stress and problems in relationships with friends or family. I’m an over-thinker, and my persistence in going over a problem repeatedly will keep me up at night. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not without trouble. I’m not perfect. But I have found what helps.

I’ll go ahead and get this out of the way… I’m on an antidepressant/anti anxiety medication prescribed by my doctor. In fact, I reached out to my physician a couple of months ago when I saw the signs that my condition was worsening and a dose adjustment was necessary. I hate when the devil tries to use our weaknesses against us, like telling us we’re not a “good enough Christian” if we can’t get rid of mental illness by prayer and Bible reading. It’s simply not true!

I come from a long line/family history of mental illness, depression, alcoholism, and suicide. I won’t pretend to be an expert on chemical imbalances and hereditary factors in mental health, but I will say I believe they exist. I’m a believer in nature AND nurture. Your past experiences do affect your future self. Do they control the narrative? No. But we can’t throw out the scars that rejection and other painful instances leave in their wake. Also, I believe in spiritual forces beyond our recognition. I believe in familial curses that can impact one generation after another, and I believe the devil prowls like a lion looking to destroy us. I believe in demonic forces at work in mankind distorting our perception of reality and feeding lies into our thoughts. Never-mind external stressors like working a pandemic in critical care (insert your own personal stressor)!

With so many different factors that play a part in mental health, how can we as Christians say just one thing works? So, if you’ve ever felt guilty, or been made to feel guilty, for seeking medical help for your mental health, please don’t. Throw that out with the garbage. I love Jesus more than the air I breathe, but I still found myself with suicidal ideation the day before my period would start. I talk to God all day long, yet I couldn’t stop myself from worrying about things that were not even things! I read my Bible every day, but I know better than to think I’ve kicked addiction’s butt. I can’t just have a glass of wine and call it a day. It will end up being a whole bottle and headache in the morning. I know the Lord has broken the chains of addiction in my life, but I’m not about to put Him to the test. It’s not necessary. But I digress. I’m just trying to say, this is a broken world. Don’t be surprised if you need a little help picking up the pieces. You can believe in God’s healing and still take an antidepressant. God does much of his healing through the work of His children, be it a counselor or prescription provider.

But let’s get to the meat of this post. I’ve had plenty of patients over the years that have been on a bucket of medication, but they still couldn’t get out of their pit. Remember when I discussed the multifaceted nature of mental health? I believe that my healing, strength, and joy come from Jesus. Yes, I take a daily prescription, and yes, I talk about my feelings, but it’s His strength that keeps me going. Here are a few things that have made a positive difference in my life.

One, I read the Bible every day and spend substantial time in His presence. You can do this a number of ways. I read devotions from the Bible app on my phone. I read encouraging emails from trusted, Christian websites. I will take out my Bible and just open it up where I feel the Holy Spirit leads me and read. That may just be letting it fall open, or going to a book you feel the Spirit impress to your mind. I also journal. I’m going to attach a diagram of words. You can pick one for each day. Get your word, pray and ask God to speak to your heart, and then just write whatever comes out. This is a great way to communicate with Him. On work days I listen to praise music on my commute and I worship like the interior of my car is church on Sunday morning. Some of my best times with the Lord have been in the car!

Image from HIScoach Training Academy

Two, I give Him every day. I discovered my best place to get quiet time that is uninterrupted is in the shower. I bought a shower chair, and I’ll have a seat and talk to my Father. I pray about different things. Yesterday I just talked to Jesus like He was my best friend (because He is), and I told Him different things I had been thinking about my home and work life. He didn’t say anything back, but I knew He was listening, and I felt a weight lifted afterwards. One thing I always do in my shower chair/prayer closet is surrender my life/day to Him. I close my eyes and imagine I’m at the foot of His throne. Then I lay down physical objects that signify my mental battles. I lay down anxiety, depression, worry, doubt, and fear. I also give Him my finances, family, and future. I call it laying down the big three. I ask for more or His Spirit and less of this world. I ask for ears to hear His Spirit and truth over everything else. I do this every single day.

Now, this one I had slacked off on, but I picked it back up because I find it helpful, I see a difference, and it’s super easy. I daily apply the Armor of God (Ephesians 6). I memorized these verses, not exactly word for word, but enough to recite them. I say the full armor out loud and mentally put it on. Take that, Satan! Don’t laugh, bro. It works.

Lastly, I strive to walk in Kingdom Truth. This is sooooo hard. That’s why you see me doing all the above stuff daily. To fight fear, you have to be like a well-trained athlete. You have to daily feed on the truth of God according to scripture. You have to allow that truth to become who you are. The truth of scripture changes you! If you know a Christian who isn’t different from the world and displaying the fruits of the spirit, such as love, patience, kindness, joy, and self-control, then they are just forgetting the truth of God. We all have our moments, but to walk in Kingdom Truth means to understand this world is temporary. The problems we face won’t be forever, but a life full of love in Jesus will last for eternity. Nothing can truly harm us as followers of Him. We don’t fear change, political unrest, or the opinions of others. We don’t allow broken relationships to break us. We understand that while the tears may come right now, that joy comes in the morning (future). This life is a sandcastle, and the waves will eventually sweep it away, but until then keep building your castle for the Lord. Invite others to build with you; even the sinners (oh, wait, that’s all of us). Even the ones persisting in sin (oh, wait, that’s all of us)!

Pain comes, but joy is the River of the Holy Spirit that runs through the heart of every believer. We just forget it’s there. Spending time with the Living Water (Jesus) will remind us of that truth. Depression happens on this earth, but the truth reminds us that His strength is made perfect in our weakness. Like Paul, God won’t always take the thorn from our side, but He will use it to help us find our way. Our way back to His truth. The truth that we are sons and daughters of a King who rules the entire earth and Heavens, yet still absolutely adores little ole you and me. We love because He loves us. We lay down our offenses because He laid down ours. We forgive, as He forgives. We help the hurting. We seek His healing and guidance. We allow trouble to roll off our backs like water off a duck, because He is in control of all things! He fights our battles! He protects, guides, and provides. And remembering this truth, that I have to remind myself of daily, spending time with Him, this truth brings me joy even in the midst of pain.

Why I Haven’t Been Blogging.

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I don’t know if anyone has even noticed, but I haven’t been blogging like I used to do. I’ve been writing regularly on this site for eight years, and I’ve always loved it, until recently. I’m sure some people have assumed I haven’t been as vocal because I’ve been busy working a pandemic as an ICU nurse, and while I have been swamped at the bedside, that’s just not the reason. It’s more disappointing than that.

I have always found joy in sharing the things that the Lord has laid upon my heart. Even when I received angry critiques, death threats, or online harassment, I laughed it off. I knew God had given me the gift and calling to write what I perceived the Holy Spirit was speaking. I never doubted that calling or that gift of knowledge and discernment. And I don’t doubt it now. Not sharing a word on this website has been like ending a relationship with a dear, longtime friend, yet despite the heartache, I simply have been too weary to pick it back up. In essence, as I told a family member recently, I have become disillusioned. This disappointment and awakening to reality has made sharing my thoughts so very hard.

Approximately a year ago it really came to a head. I’ve always heard that you can really see what you’re made of when the heat is turned up. Gosh, this is so true. 2020 really turned up the flame under our lives collectively, and I sadly started noticing what people were made of. It wasn’t the world at large that broke my heart; it was the Christian community. The “church,” the collection of those who claimed Jesus as their Savior, for a large part, were reacting to the heat in a way that did not reflect the character and example of Christ. I’ve always loved the verse that states you will know a tree by its fruit, or when Jesus himself said, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another (John 13:35).”

I haven’t seen the love. In fact, I’ve seen quite the opposite. I always enjoyed sharing what God was teaching me and revealing to my heart. I never claimed to know it all, and I was always quick to say that I’m a work in progress. I learned that laying down pride and humbling myself daily to the Holy Spirit is so important, because in this posture He reveals His heart to ours. By listening to His direction in humble submission I can see where I have been wrong in the past. And boy, was I wrong.

You see, a large part of me enjoyed the accolades from my fellow Christians. I had not always been a Christian. I didn’t start reading scripture regularly and daily until my thirties. So, as a “newer” believer, I leaned heavily on the church and elders I respected to guide me. Approximately three or four years ago, when I committed to hours of Bible study and quiet time at least 4 days a week, I started to notice a disconnect between the scripture and the behavior of many religious people. In other words, the fruit wasn’t there. Again, this discernment wasn’t from a position of pride. It wasn’t like I thought, “gosh, look at all these church folks not following Jesus like me!” No, it wasn’t like that. More than anything, it was a sad revelation. I became aware of a religious heaviness and spiritual oppression that persisted in some areas. I could feel it. It was heartbreaking.

I continued my seeking daily of God’s will as the years went by. My family sold all our possessions. We went from having everything to basically having nothing. Nothing but each other and God, that is. In this season of casting off the world we found a deeper walk with the Lord. We found God’s priorities for our family. We discovered how to trust Him more deeply and depend completely on His leading. It was glorious!

Along our season of walking deeper with Jesus, came an awakening to the world around us. We became more aware of how we could please the Lord in our daily lives. We changed our actions and behavior based on scripture. We wanted to walk in the Fruits of the Spirit, at all times! Even when the heat got turned up, it seems.

In 2020 the whole world caught fire, but it seemed to me that it was the church that let themselves get burned the most. Not at first. At first everyone was very loving to their neighbor, but as it got hotter out there, the rotten fruit came out. Again, please understand this doesn’t come from a place of pride for me. This comes from a place of heartache for my brothers and sisters in Christ. I haven’t spoken because my heart hurts too much to have uttered a word.

Somewhere in the fire of lockdowns, sickness, and financial strain, my brothers and sisters became very angry. I didn’t have a problem with the anger. I mean, I got angry too. The problem was where the anger was projected.

The Christian community is quick to say “it’s not a battle of flesh and blood we fight, but a spiritual one against the forces of darkness. Like, every believer I’ve ever met will agree. So my question is, why have we been fighting flesh and blood?!

I do blame social media for a large part of the problem. We live in a sinful world, born with a sinful nature of this world, and social media has been more than happy to feed that fleshly character. I have seen blatant, political propaganda be slurped up happily like it was the Gospel, and in this vehicle of political and religious angst, I’ve seen the church derail. Instead of a battle of good and evil, where God always wins in the end, we’ve lost our Kingdom-view glasses, and we’ve started a battle of us against them.

Republicans versus Democrats

BLM versus All Lives Matter

Like, you can’t support the police and support justice and equality.

Somewhere along the way we labeled everything that didn’t fit into our box as unGodly and bad. Vaccines became bad. While they’ve always been a way to combat disease, they suddenly became a way to “take away freedom.” I’m not sure where this started, but it really took off! It became a trend that if you were a Christian you couldn’t get vaccinated. False information began to fly around. Some of the most ridiculous and false information I’ve ever seen. Suddenly the Covid vaccine contained baby parts and changed your DNA. Don’t even get me started on the magnets and chip discussions. But I digress.

I don’t want this post to be about the vaccine. You can love Jesus and decide not to get the Covid vaccine. That’s not the point of this. The point is, people began to widely accept unvalidated, false info. The point is, Christians started believing we were in a battle of flesh and blood, that the pharmaceutical companies (flesh, real men and women), that the Democrats (flesh, real men and women), that the president (flesh, a real man) was out to destroy them. Instead of putting faith in God, or trusting Him to fight our battles of a spiritual nature, we took to horses and chariots to fight the flesh of those who oppose us.

I have heard preachers state the Democrats are trying to attack the church and take away our freedom to worship. There’s no thought of the Lord fighting for us, but only how we must arm ourselves with rifles to keep them sinners out!

We don’t see people as children of God. We see them as the enemy.

Our fruits are not patience, peace, gentleness, kindness, and especially not self-control. The fruits of many Christians have become rage, judgment, selfishness, and the exact opposite of love.

Christians have been proclaiming “faith over fear” and wrongly assuming that getting a vaccine or wearing a mask is fear. Those things aren’t fear. They’re wise, selfless, scientifically proven ways to decrease virus transmission. The real fear is the fear of losing our man-made religion! The Bible states nothing can separate us from His love, yet we’re afraid of the democrats closing our church building! Doesn’t add up, guys. The real problem today is fear among Christians. The Bible states there is no fear in love, yet proclaimed Christians are afraid of governmental control, vaccine and mask mandates, and liberal lawmakers. That makes it seem like maybe love isn’t there, since fear is so prominent. I mean, the fruit isn’t speaking like we’re His disciples. Just saying.

When the Holy Spirit began speaking to my heart how to bear His fruit and be a disciple of His love, I tried sharing this with my Christian followers. The problem was, while my words were based on scriptural truth and the words of Jesus Christ, they didn’t coincide with the popular thoughts of the Christian Church (of this world) and religion. So, while my blog posts gave a WWJD, kingdom view, they upset the religious realm of this world. Therefore, my thoughts were met with anger. In fact, met with rage! I was vehemently persecuted like I was Satan himself. I was called a “baby murderer” when I questioned if the former president’s behavior was something a lover of Jesus could support. I was attacked in flesh and blood as if who held a political office was a kingdom matter that meant the tie-breaker for who won the spiritual battle at the end of times. Do we see the problem here?

I stopped writing because the deception that tells man that his religious practices and political affiliation will save him, was too deep for me to speak against. I stopped writing because the false narrative was so much more tasty for people to ingest than God’s truth according to scripture. I stopped writing because I became disillusioned with how people I had loved, trusted, and respected in the Christian community could treat other humans with so much hatred and disdain. It broke my heart to the point of paralyzing me to speak on it.

Will I write again after this post? I hope so. I write for God, and God is love, and sharing His love is my calling. I want to share His love here. I hope I can share it by modeling it. I hope I can model it by loving my enemy, by bearing good fruit, and by encouraging others to do the same. We can be disciples, but we will only ever be an exclusive club rather than His church and bride if we can’t draw people to His heart by love. Our politics won’t win souls to Jesus. Our anger, rage, and judgmental behavior of those who believe differently than us certainly will not. So, maybe I’ll start trying again to model that love. That love that knows no fear, that love that is patient and kind. That does not envy, boast, and is not proud. Love that does not dishonor others, and is not self-seeking, not easily angered, and keeps no record of wrongs. Love that does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Love that always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres (1Corinthians 13). I will persevere.

A Nurse’s Take on the Covid Vaccine

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I wasn’t going to do this, but then someone messaged me how much they respected my opinion. I realized that I have to speak my heart. Even if it makes people angry. So, here goes.

You go to the doctor for a well-visit. When your doctor suggests you need a medicine for your blood pressure, even though you feel fine, you take the prescription. Your doctor tells you high blood pressure puts you at risk for a heart attack. So, you follow her/his advice, and you fill the prescription.

Do you search the ingredients of the pill? Do you tell your doctor “no way, I don’t know what’s in that pill!

No. You trust your physician. The professional. You take the blood pressure medicine per your doctor’s advice and knowledge, backed by research, that hypertension can lead to heart attack or stroke.

When you have chest pain, you go to the emergency room. You let them do whatever they need to do to save your life. You trust the doctors, nurses, and yes, the creators of medications to save you.

Let’s say you’re a Christian. Do you not go to the ER when you have chest pain? Or do you not take the advice of your doctor to start a BP med? Do you say, “God will protect me from heart attack and stroke. I’m not falling for this false narrative.”

No. You trust your doctor. You trust the hospital. You trust medicine. No one questions your faith in Jesus when you get an emergency appendectomy instead of asking for a healing at the altar.

What changed in 2020?

Social media. False information. The perfect storm created by a huge, scary pandemic. When people are afraid, feel out of control of protecting themselves and their families, and are under pressure emotionally and financially, they become open to whatever will help them regain balance or control. If we can blame someone else, make something less frightening, and divert attention from the thing that actually frightens us, to something else, we jump on it. For example, Covid isn’t bad; The Left is bad. Ok, Covid is real, but it’s really a problem with immigration. Masks aren’t preventing the spread (even though operating room staff have used them for many years to prevent the spread of germs), it’s just a way for rights to be taken away.

Instead of focusing on the sanctity of ALL human life, we focus on statistics that fit our opinion.

Let’s say, Covid 19 is only fatal .1% of the time (a number I just made up, because youtubers do it all the time). Now let’s look at a real statistic… you have a 0.0002% chance of getting struck by lightning. Are you going to swim in a thunderstorm? Or go stand on the golf course with your club raised high during lightning? Why not?! The chances are really slim you’ll get struck!

It’s because you’re not an idiot. You do what you need to do to avoid getting struck by lightning.

You go to your annual well visit with your primary care doctor, and even get your prostate checked.

You get your child vaccinated against polio.

You wear seatbelts even though you’re a really great driver.

If you’re a Christian you have faith in God to save you, but you also understand you don’t walk out in front of oncoming traffic. That would be dumb to put Him to the test like that. You might just find yourself waking up to Jesus smiling and saying, “wow, Bill, I really can’t believe you did that. Didn’t you appreciate the vessel I gave you for my purposes on earth?”

And I can’t help but wonder if right now Jesus is asking some of us, “don’t you appreciate the vessel of your neighbor?”

That’s all I got for now, guys. I’m exhausted. I’m tired of working my buns off in the critical care unit to save people who my experience thus far with Covid shows me, won’t get better! 😭 It’s devastating. I’m tired of seeing more and more prayer requests come across my newsfeed for healing from Covid. It’s not that I’m against healing or praying. It’s that I hate this is still a thing! I truly believe better vaccination rates would have made this not the issue Delta is right now. There, I said it.

We trust science thus far, until this, and I just can’t wrap my head around it! I love Jesus more than anything, but I believe His Father created humans with the knowledge to create medicine and save lives. When we live longer, we can reach more people with His love and truth. Believing in medicine isn’t saying you lack faith; it’s actually a belief in the wisdom and knowledge that God has given mankind. Thank you, Lord. That’s why I’m a nurse. Life and death is in His hands, but sometimes He uses me to keep life going. What a gift!

So, I pray you will take my advice. I am consistently praying in the Spirit, and listening for His truth. There is not one, single day that goes by that I don’t seek His will and listen for His heart. I took the vaccine without a moment’s hesitation. In fact, I cried happy tears when I got it. Thank you, Lord, for giving scientist the knowledge to help us fight this virus!

Do with this information what you will. Not sure I’ll say much else about it. I’m just too tired. Lies are so much easier to believe than truth.

Sincerely,

The Exhausted ICU RN

The Day I Got Flipped Off

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I’m not one to run to social media or pen an angry blog post every time someone looks at me sideways, but the thing is, I’ve seen so much of this lately, that I thought it was worth mentioning. I’ll bet as you read my words you’ll probably be able to relate, and I reckon the biggest question you will need to ask yourself is, which car are you driving?

Last week I was sitting at a red light. As the light turned green I placed my foot on the accelerator and moved forward. Obvious, right? I’m not trying to give driving lessons, but rather explaining in detail my actions. When the light turned green, I went. I didn’t delay. I wasn’t distracted or on my phone. I went forward. The problem for the driver behind me was I obviously didn’t move forward fast enough.

I’ll add another observation at this point. I recall as I moved forward the van next to me also moved forward. At the same rate of speed. Like, neck and neck. I mention this so you’ll understand that I accelerated forward at an average, anticipated speed. I wasn’t going overly slow or even “driving like a granny.” Yet, he honked.

Ahhh, the ever-present horn. Do you know how often people honk their horns in Florida? Like, it’s ridiculous. We’re in the land of sunshine. The place where everyone else comes to vacation. People leave their hectic, fast-paced lives to come to the beach and relax. Yet here we are. Driving 120mph down the interstate, blaring our horn when someone goes under 80, and flipping them off if they don’t gun-it at the red light.

That’s right. The guy flipped me off. After honking at me, for going on green, he passes me and pulls up alongside me to cuss me out through his open window. You know, in case I thought the loud, horn blare was an accident. Then he extended his middle finger my way with an angry glare, before speeding ahead in a dust cloud of angst.

Wanna hear the absolute best part? In approximately half a mile he turns right into a neighborhood. Yep, you heard it right, folks. All that rage, all that effort to show me he was pissed off, and all that frantic hurrying to turn into a neighborhood just ahead. Look, I’ll give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was going home to a sick kid. Perhaps he was having a really bad day. Perhaps.

The problem is, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been cussed out before. I’ve been flipped off, thrown a hateful stare. I wish I had a dollar for every horn that’s been honked my way. But I really, really don’t think I’m an overly cautious, extremely slow driver. I’ll tell you a secret… I even go over the speed limit. Quite frequently. All that to say, my receiving of road rage has less to do with my driving behavior than it does with human behavior. We currently live in a country with their hand on the horn, at the ready, to blare angrily at anyone in their path. This doesn’t just apply to driving.

Let’s admit a few things about our society. One, people are in a hurry. All the time, and way too much. They’re rushed, harried, and typically hurried over-proportionally to the need. Gonna be late for work? Try leaving earlier. Since when did we value clocking in on time over being a decent human being?

Secondly, people are angry, man. They are stressed out and short-fused. And nine times out of ten, we’re mad about stuff that doesn’t even matter! Like, what makes a person so angry that someone is not driving fast enough that they feel it necessary to curse and throw demeaning gestures? Why?

What about this? We’re selfish. Seriously, we are. Something happens in our brains lately that says, “my time is more important. This inconveniences me. I need to be first.”

Someone pulls out in front of you. Oops. It was a mistake. But rage overtakes you. “How dare you slow me down! This is so much of a bump in my very important day that I’m going to show you my anger and let you know what a moron I think you are!”

Grace? Never heard of it.

Patience? What’s that?

Kindness? Is that a new, loaded-tea flavor?!

No, sir. We won’t count to ten, much less three. We will lash out, burn with rage, and speed ahead to life’s next red light. All in the name of gaining five seconds in this race of existence. We’ll step on anyone who dares to get in our way, and you better like it!

My seventy-one year old aunt lives here too, and I’ve noticed she goes to her favorite, familiar stores and restaurants, but that’s it. She doesn’t venture out to areas she doesn’t know. Why? She doesn’t feel like getting honked at and cussed out for slowly down to find her turn. Heck, I got honked at one day in a busy section of downtown for slowing down to turn right in a pothole-laden parking lot. I drive a low-riding sedan and didn’t want to harm my vehicle. Yet that didn’t occur to the angry driver behind me. Their concern wasn’t another person’s vehicle; their concern was their time. Even as they got stopped at probably a dozen red lights before reaching their destination.

After my encounter with the man in the pickup last week who flipped me off, I told my husband, “that guy is gonna have a heart attack!”

His face was red, he was so angry, and for what? In this life we stress out over so many things that don’t matter, and we neglect so many things that do. We get mad at a delayed schedule, but we ignore someone in need. We get red, hot raging over our food taking too long at the drive-thru, but we forget to show kindness to the girl at the window who has done nothing wrong. We fret over our own personal inconvenience, and we neglect the act of love. Sure, we love our kids and maybe even our spouse, but what about the stranger who might just need it the most? I know it sounds like sugary sentiment, but it’s true. The very person you’re honking at could be one step away from giving up on life, and your kindness and grace may be the thing that tips them back in the right direction.

Earlier I mentioned my road-rage scenario might sound familiar to you, the reader, and I encouraged you to ask yourself a question. So, which car are you in? Are you the one throwing rage instead of patience? Or will you be the person on this road of life who shows some love and kindness instead? Maybe it’s not to late to change our course.

I Cannot Get Lost When I’ve Already Been Found

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I was driving home from work last night when a thought occurred to me. I suppose that happens when you’re driving down a palm-tree-lined street, still getting used to new road signs, and realize, ‘yep, I really live here.’ Such is the life, I guess, of those led by the Spirit. You wonder, “how did I get here,” and you marvel at how far you’ve come. How did life shift so grandly, and how did it change so much? It feels good. Peace like a river.

When I told my husband last summer, “I feel like God told me we should move to Fort Myers,” his response may have been surprising to some.

Without hesitation he replied, “ok. Sounds good.”

And that was that. I started looking for another job, despite the fact that I loved the one I had. I started looking for a new place to live. I started looking at health insurance options, since I’d be losing ours with a job change, and I withdrew from college. I wouldn’t have the time to pursue an advanced degree like I planned. But mostly, I just prayed.

“Lord, lead us. Make the way.”

Looking back, I don’t think I can simplify my spouse’s response as just trusting me. I mean, I know he trusts my ability to hear from the Holy Spirit, but placing his calm, collected demeanor to it all in one tiny box would truly negate the point of how we live life like we do. In the same line of thinking, I cannot place my own decision to move forward so surely on the confidence in my ability to “hear God’s voice.” Indeed, stepping out in faith has little to do with self, and so much more to do with Jesus.

You see, while my husband trusted my discernment, more so he trusted our Savior. And while I believed in my spiritual ears to hear from the Lord, I would be a crumbling mess if that was all I had to rest on. My ability would have been sinking sand, and my spouse’s faith in me would have been a mudslide. But Jesus? Well, that we could count on solidly.

When I told my husband I felt led to uproot our happy existence in the city and community we had come to love, his response was based on trust in Christ, not me. When I realized I was going to step out with what God whispered to my heart as I sat alone with Him on a balcony at the beach, it felt kinda crazy. I mean, was I really about to suggest we change everything based on a still, quiet voice, that might not even be God?! Yet, I felt peace. Something that should have seemed crazy and unconventional to me, felt like the best decision there was. So, I took that first step. I knew I didn’t take it alone.

The point is, it wasn’t me that my husband so much trusted, but rather God’s plan for us. Being the chill, relaxed dude he is, he knew that if this wasn’t God’s will, then it wouldn’t work out. A new job wouldn’t come, or living arrangements would fall through. Financial constraints would arise, or roadblocks would occur. Where God leads, He makes a way. So, as we began to make small steps of faith, the Lord opened big doors. Jobs fell in my lap, and blessings poured out into our hands. No roadblocks, just paved roadways.

I’ve discovered over the past few years that following the Lord isn’t as hard as I assumed. It’s all about being still, listening, and then walking. It’s about waiting, and then stepping through the door that opens. It’s not about what I think I should do for God, but rather what He designs to happen. I don’t have to try so hard to live for Him; I just have to live my life in Him. Abiding in His presence. It’s about understanding that despite my best intentions, I’m likely going to mess things up. But more importantly, despite my missteps, the Lord will straighten my path. I’ve discovered that in this life I don’t have to always know where it’s going, as long as I understand who leads me. I cannot get lost when I’ve already been found.

I Never Wanted the Pony

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“I bet you can’t dive all the way to the bottom and touch the grate,” he dared me.

I was five years old. A toe-headed, deeply tanned, tiny thing, but boy, could I swim. I wasn’t daunted by the Olympic-sized swimming pool sparkling before me.

“But I got my clothes on,” I answered, waiting to see if he’d take back the challenge.

“If you do it, I’ll buy you a pony,” he replied with a smirk.

And that was all it took. Like a bullet from a gun, I shot quickly into the water, sans swimsuit or not, pointed finger first to touch the drain at the bottom of the pool. Spoiler alert. I reached my goal easily, and broke through the surface of the water, just as quickly, sucking in air hungrily. Almost as hungrily as I ached for his response.

Here’s the thing about five year old me. I really wanted a pony. I asked if I could get one, more than once, not understanding the obstacles that stood in the way of my cowgirl princess dreams, such as living in an apartment, or being dirt poor. I just wanted one, and my father had agreed I could get one. Several times. The poolside promise wasn’t a new thing.

Here’s the next thing. I knew I wasn’t getting a pony. I may had only recently learned to tie my shoelaces, but I understood a thing or two about human behavior. The promise of a pony was like wishing upon a star. It worked in Disney cartoons, but not for little girls who changed schools a billion times a year, chasing dad across the country while he sowed his oats. I didn’t even want the pony. Not at that moment.

I was proud of myself, though. I tried to reel it in, but I couldn’t help it. Sure, touching the bottom of the deep end was nothing new for me, but it was for him. And mom knew I could do it, but he didn’t know. He’d been gone when I learned. Where did he go anyway? With just a backpack and the contents of our bank account, for months at a time?

Yessiree, I was proud. I was cheesing, big time, and I waited for his response with anticipation. Wouldn’t he be so proud?!

All I can remember is the chuckle. A half laugh, half “well, I’ll be damned.” He laughed at the sport of a smiling girl, and then he turned and walked away, probably afraid I’d get his smoldering, filterless Camel wet. I guess I remember something else. I remember my heart breaking. It didn’t ache for a pretty pony to keep in the nonexistent backyard, though. It ached for affection. I wanted him to be proud of me.

I can look back on the muddled years of my past, and I can see that same longing. Love me! See me! Make me feel worthwhile! I floated through friendships, relationships, and most facets of my life like a little girl kicking like crazy to reach the bottom. If I could just touch the grate, he’d be proud. Maybe he’d even stay around for a while. If I could just be skinny enough, pretty enough, smart enough. If I wore the right clothes, the other girls would accept me. If I slept with him on the first date, he’d have to like me. If I agreed to be agreeable, then my husband wouldn’t leave me. So many parts of myself I gave up or gave away, just hoping to finally feel the satisfaction of being worth something to someone. Anything to anybody.

I never got that pony, and I never found what I was looking for in the arms of mankind. Don’t get me wrong; I found love. I currently reside in the most fulfilling and joyous marriage I could fathom, but I had to come to a place in life where I realized my self-worth and personal happiness couldn’t be found in the acceptance, opinion, or affections of this world. As the years went by and I scoured the pages of my Bible, I finally understood my purpose and fullness were found therein. A Savior who called me precious, that was what mattered most. A God who became man, to give His life for me, that was what I had been longing for. An unconditional love that said, ‘you can have all of me, and you don’t have to give me a thing,’ that was what had been missing. I didn’t have to perform, fit into a box, or do anything other than just believe that love was there for me. And when I finally realized His great grace was enough, that His strength was sufficient, and that His love never failed, I stopped kicking. I stopped striving to reach the bottom, to obtain the love of the world, or to fill my cup with empty promises. Because, I never needed the promise of a pony. I only needed perfect love.