Our Little Worlds

We all have our own little worlds, right? Or at least most of us do. You know, the world you keep yourself locked in, the one that keeps you from seeing the pain of others, from reaching out to offer a kind word or a helping hand or even a prayer for a hurting soul.

Sometimes I stay in my own little world to escape the harsh realities of this life. I know there’s a big world out there but I just shut it out. Why? Because sometimes when it’s hard for me to deal with issues I have it’s easier to just tune everything out and then it’s just me and things that help me cope- the Word, inspirational music, writing or just immersing myself in an imaginary world of people in novels. 

Other times I refuse to leave my little world not because I’m necessarily dealing with a personal issue but because it’s too painful to look people in the eye, feel their pain and help...because I don’t want to destroy the little piece of heaven I have created for myself...or because feeling the pain of someone will prompt me to take an action to help and well, I may be feeling too comfortable in my little world to be bothered. So sometimes I avoid them...the little pleading eyes, the outstretched hands desperately needing a touch, the forlorn voice calling out...and I just walk hurriedly on, shrugging off the need to help even in the smallest way.

Stepping out of our little worlds makes us see the anguish, the fear, the despair in people and really, nobody likes to feel all of these emotions because happiness and peace do not dwell in them. But I’m realizing that if we’re all to stay in our little world’s those who are hurting real bad and need help will be left all alone in their misery.  How sad. :( I have realized life is not just about me or what I may be dealing with or my feelings.

These days I’m finding happiness in helping others even when my life is shattering into a million pieces. I’m learning that God reaches out to me when I reach out to someone else hurting. You can image how gloomy and sad life would be if we all decided to keep locked inside... No one will reach out to another person, everyone will be nursing their deep cut wounds...imagine. That is not the kind of life God wants us to live. He wants us to help heal each other through the pain, the sorrow, the hurt, our fears. 

 We need to reach out for help to heal ourselves, and reach out to others hurting. That’s the way we learn to love and accept people as they are. And God’s Word is constantly teaching me how to be better. I don’t have to wait for someone to reach out to me before I offer some help. The condition of the person alone should speak to me, break my heart and touch my heart. And if I have nothing material to offer, I’ll be sure to say a prayer for that hurting soul.

Matthew West’s song “My own little world” hits the nail deeply on the head. Do take time to listen to it. It conveys my personal thoughts and feelings.

 I constantly pray to God to break my heart for what breaks His, to give me the courage to grant the silent requests of people going through hell, people who may be in far worse situations than I am in. I may not feel comfortable helping at that particular time but I know it’s the right thing to do. What better way to love people as God wants us to than to help them out when they’re troubled and feel helpless? That’s the way of love...putting someone else’s need before yours... not being selfish. But we also have to remember that God says we should love our neighbor as ourselves, not more than ourselves.

  

“And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength. The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:30,31

Let’s remember some verses on helping others:

“For the poor will never cease out of the land; therefore I command you, open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in the land.” Deuteronomy 15:11

“But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him?” 1 John 3:17

“Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.” James 1:27

“Sell your possessions, and give alms; provide yourselves with purses that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” Luke 12:33,34

 

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:12,13

“Contribute to the needs of the saints, practice hospitality.” Romans 12:13

“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians 6:2

“Do nothing from selfishness or conceit, but in humility count others better than yourselves.” Philippians 2:3

I pray God gives us the strength to leave our little worlds and reach out to the hurting.

Have a lovely weekend! xoxo

Delali.

Safe haven

This is one of my many poems i rarely share. enjoy. xoxo

Steadily I put it up, this formidable wall.

Brick by brick, I lay them,

Sealed with unswerving patience and promise.



Heaps of illusions. Then brine. More brine.

Desertion. Vexation...

Well-nigh did I lose myself in the lies,

The perfidies buried underneath ostensible affection.

Time elapses...



There’s a call to redeem my gravitas

And remould my purports

In my safe haven.

Many suns go down,

Many crescent moons turn full.

Yet here I am, mirthfully walled in.



My wall ---

High enough to shield me

From shallow travels

And their bathetic,

Wounding woes,

But low to permit

A love that’s built to last,

Find its way.

- Delali Writes

A Sandpiper To Bring You Joy

She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me.

She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes blue as the sea.

“Hello,” she said.

I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.

“I’m building,” she said.

“I see that. What is it?” I asked, not caring.

“Oh I don’t know, I just like the feel of the sand.”

That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by.

“That’s a joy,” the child said.

“It’s what?” I asked, uncaring.

“It’s a joy! My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.”

The bird went glissading down the beach. “Good-bye joy,” I muttered to myself,  “Hello, pain…” and turned to walk on.  I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.

“What’s your name?” She wouldn’t give up.

“Ruth,” I answered. “I’m Ruth Peterson.”

“Mine’s Wendy,… and I’m six.”

“Hi, Wendy.” I offered.

She giggled. “You’re funny,” she said.  In spite of my gloom I laughed too and walked on.  Her musical giggle followed me. “Come again, Mrs. P,” she called. “We’ll have another happy day.”

The days and weeks that followed belonged to others: a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, an ailing mother.  The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater.

“I need a sandpiper,” I said to myself, gathering up my coat.

The never-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly, but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.

“Hello, Mrs. P,” she said. “Do you want to play?”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.

“I don’t know. You say.”

“How about charades?” I asked sarcastically.

The tinkling laughter burst forth again. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Then let’s just walk.” Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.  “Where do you live?” I asked.

“Over there.” She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter.

“Where do you go to school?”

“I don’t go to school. Mommy says we’re on vacation.”

She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. “When I left for home,” Wendy said, “it had been a happy day.”

Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic.  I was in no mood greet even Wendy.  I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.

“Look, if you don’t mind,” I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, “I’d rather be alone today.” She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.

“Why?” she asked.

I turned on her and shouted, “Because my mother died!”-and thought, my God, why was I saying this to a little child?

“Oh,” she said quietly, “then this is a bad day.”

“Yes, and yesterday and the day before that and-oh, go away!”

“Did it hurt?”

“Did what hurt?” I was exasperated with her, with myself.

“When she died?”

“Of course it hurt!” I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself.  I strode off.

A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn’t there.

Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door.  A drawn-looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

“Hello,” I said. “I’m Ruth Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.”

“Oh yes, Mrs. Peterson, please come in.”

“Wendy talked of you so much. I’m afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please accept my apologies.”

“Not at all-she’s a delightful child,” I said, suddenly realizing that I meant it. “Where is she?”

“Wendy died last week, Mrs. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn’t tell you.”

Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. My breath caught.

“She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn’t say no.”

She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly….” Her voice faltered.

“She left something for you… if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?”

I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, anything, to say to this lovely young woman.

She handed me a smeared envelope, with MRS. P printed in bold, childish letters.  Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues-a yellow beach, a blue sea, a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY

Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten how to love opened wide.  I took Wendy’s mother in my arms.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over and over, and we wept together.

The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words-one for each year of her life-that speak to me of inner harmony, courage, undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color of sand-who taught me the gift of love.

(Author Unknown)
Submitted by Richard

Via- www.inspirationalstories.com