I am alive, believe it or not.
I have lately encountered an annoying flaw when it comes to blogging. I cannot cut, paste, or copy to or from or within my blog. I find myself increasingly antagonized, because, perfectionist as I am, I like to spill everything out on paper and then organize it adding flavor and color and humor as I go...using cut and paste.
Inspiration is a beautiful thing. And this morning I was inspired. This morning Sherry talked to us about the many names of God. And one of them is "a bundle of myrh." The scripture was about how God is like a refreshing aroma to a weary and lost child..I forget the exact words. But it was beautiful. Like the smell after the rain. I always thought of a legacy like a kind of perfume...you can still smell the sweetness even after that person has left the room. That's what I want my legacy to be like. And it made sense. Because if Jesus is like myrh than he will refresh my spirit and cover me with His sweet, refreshing spirit.
Maybe this Jesus Myrh is different for everyone.
For me this Jesus myrh is all the laughs and encouragement at work.
And music.
And African spicey.
And the sparkling eyes of the children here.
And the sky at sunset as one blue fading end hides behind purple clouds that deepen in color towards the edges and the other end is splashed with blinding gold and blue and then in hardly any time at all it deepens as strands of tangerine scream My Creator.
3 comments:
Corina!!!!!
Guess what... yesterday we had a snow day. Crazy isn't it. Just last week I began wearing a coat down to the bus stop. The leaves were bearly of the trees and it had only snowed once before. Then one day it begins snowing. Alot. And the next day I woke up and there was no electricity. I lit some candles woke up Jordan. Then i looked out side and there was about a foot of snow. (It's kind of dangerous walking out the back door. There are icicles about level with your neck.)
Well it's nice to see a new post on your blog and no that you are alive :)
Kaytlin Gochenaur
Oh and Dad wants me to ask you weather or not they cellabrate Holloween in Liberia. Dad came back today!!!! :)
Dearest Corina,
I have thoroughly enjoyed your blog... I print it out and take it up to Grandma and Grandpa so that they can also read it. They say hello, by the way.
I’m sure during your conversation with Sherry that she told you that myrrh is a gum resin, coming from a variety of desert trees and bushes; different sources give it different clarity and scent. Demand for it as an embalming spice in ancient times made it an extremely precious commodity; some relate myrrh to suffering, bitterness, or mortality because of its connection to death. But, as the Phoenix uses myrrh, frankincense, etc in its own funeral pyre, I like to think of myrrh as a balm for the hurts in life. Much as Sherry told you, a whiff of myrrh can remind you of hope and life.
In ancient times, myrrh was many times more valuable than frankincense… makes you ponder whether the sad times in our lives are so much more valuable in the long run. Personally, they help me to treasure all the joy in my life because we have seen/ experienced the sad times. It is interesting that myrrh also expands, or blooms, when burned instead of melting. So, as a balm it enlarges to encompass all of your need much as Jesus does.
So, my own Jesus Myrrh…
… hearing the laughter of my grandchildren
… seeing my children
… being in the presence of my husband
… finding joy and peace in everything around me
As we grow older, I find that it is much easier to take the long view of things, putting everything in perspective. Along those same lines, myrrh is having a ‘glass half full’ instead of ‘glass half empty’ outlook on life. Personally, my cup is overflowing; God continues to bless us in small ways. Are there trials? Sure – there are plenty of those. But, in the long run we will like be the Phoenix rising from the ashes of myrrh and frankincense.
I think of you often, Corina. Love you lots,
Aunt Debbie
Dearest Corina, glad to know you're alive! (I was wondering for a while...) Love, Mackenzie
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