What is Truth


How do I truly express my feeling on a piece of paper? How can i reveal to you my action just through words. I'm not sure that I can, and for that reason i can not tell you what or who I am. Only what I sea, hear, feel, and touch. I am revealed in you and through you and sometime you shut me down/out. I want you to know me, to understand me truly. But many of you don't and some of you wont ever. I'm not easy to find- especially if you look for me. I am usually chanced upon. I don't need you but you need me. My stories have been written by many authors but they are my stories and i have been portrayed through blinded eyes. So i thought that finally, although my story isn't finished. I should tell you some of it. what is real what is true. what is me. And maybe just maybe i can chip through the fired clay mold of ignorance that you have berried yourself inside of But i don't suppose that will be hard for me. because i know no boundaries although it will be rough for you. I write this in my own name and hope to reveal myself to you through others. but let me warn you, you may not like what your about to hear. but i am what i am and what i am must be known.

A little girl walked wearily towards Lauren. Lauren didn't think she could have been older than 6 or 7. In the little girls arms there was a little boy who looked to be no more than 9 or 10 months old. When game time came all of the kids lined up in front of Lauren to play red light green light. The little girl walked up to Lauren holding this little baby boy she had a pleading look in her eyes. A look that was begging for mercy for love , and for a break from caring for her little baby brother. Lauren scooped up the baby and held him in her arms. he was incoherent he didn't make eye contact and flopped around in her arms. It looked and felt like she was carrying a rubber doll. but rubber dolls don't have breathe and life and a heart beat. This is what I am. I am a women holding a broken autistic child with no future, and no promise. But holding him and whispering to him that he matters, is loved, and that his future is with god. This is what I truly Am. I am not the lustful, fake, sexual, fallacious image that the media portrays me to be. For if you give your body and time but do not have me, you gain nothing. But, don't worry, I will be patient and kind with you.

I am not envious, and i do not boast. I see you at work, at school, at home, with friends. I am everywhere and nowhere. You cant hide from me. I see you make a comment to your friend about what you think I am. You highlight the action, the way things transpired. You don't think i feel myself slipping out of you as you tell away your wife's honor. Your ignorance to what i really am becomes all the more evident in you teenagers. Let me tell you right now, that a porn addiction is not what i am. You misuse my name regarding porn. You really should be saying that you lust it because an addiction is not what or who I am. Moreover when you boast about these things in my name you are just proving to the world how wrong and immoral you are. Because boasting directly contradicts my definition. Subsequently, I am not proud of these things.

I remember the day clearly. Lauren and two other missionaries were walking down the road, medical equipment in hand. As they poked, prodded, washed and bandaged the little girls 3rd degree oil burn they didn't let anyone watch. They were trying to respect the families honor. Only the little girls mother and several others to hold the little one down if she started thrashing were allowed. The group of missionaries were expecting it. God knows soap in a 3rd degree burn would hurt, in spite of this, it had to be done. They had walked all the way there to help. Not even knowing if they would be allowed to. Well they were and they assisted that precious little girl as much as they could. They cleaned out the wound and washed it and rinsed it. The whole while Lauren was telling her that they were there to help, and that god was there too, watching over and protecting the little girls leg and body. I was there with them, with all of them. That is who i am. I am careful not to dishonor, and I do not ask for things in return.

You turn on the T.V. and you see a distorted image of me. There is a women throwing angry words at her husband, and the man hits her in return. They continue exchanging emotional and physical blows. Each partner getting more heated and angry the further their little game goes. In the end, it some how turns from a passionate fight into a passion of other sorts. Into a passionate make up. Why am i shown like this? This is not who I am. Consequently, I see more and more relationships that have turned to these angry ways. I want to help, to shine through, and yell "there is so much better in store for you." But the media has blinded them. I want to reassure you, dear reader, that this is another example of who I am not.

A women reached through the bars of the church. She was straining to reach the empty gallon of water so that she could have some sort of jug to hold water in for her family. Wanda, the lead missionary in the group turned around just as the jug was disappearing through the bars. Wanda walked to the door and watched the women hurriedly walk down the hillside hoping no one would find out about the dead that was done. Wanda knew though that the women needed the jug more than the Missionaries did, so she let it walk down the hill. Little did any of them know, that very same women would come a few days later with her very sick little girl, and ask them for medicine. When she came you could see the shame in her face of having to now ask for something after she had already stole. She knew that the missionaries knew. How could she not miss the judgmental look on Wanda's face. But because the missionaries had me in them the judgment soon turned to forgiveness, and they administered medicine to the women's child. Regardless of the record the women had of stealing, the Missionaries had me in them and therefore did not hold onto the women's records of sin. That is who i am.

So who am I? I am the man who gently grazes his lips over a women's forehead touching her so gently that he makes her feel as if she is a delicate flower. I am in his eyes revealing that the women is priceless. I am a father rocking his new baby girl with a fierce protectiveness shown through the twinkle in his eyes as he gazes into hers. I am the stranger who goes out of their way to help the crying little girl. I am the friend who has been burned down time after time and is still willing to forgive. I am the sister who lets her brother go first down the slide, and the brother who plays with his little sisters hair. I am the kiss between the old couple at there 50th anniversary. I am real, I am forever, I am true I am love, and now i speak to you in my own name. That of love.
1st Corinthians 13:4-5
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. That is who I am, I am love.