Essay. Nikki. Nicole.

I think in lists, so I'll list off all the things I love about you:
1. Number one and most important, your love for God's word. I have never had a teacher teach me the Bible with the heart that you do. You have this way of making it real. Even the other day when you played Ruth and told it from first person, all of the sudden Ruth has life. Her muscles hurt from bending down, and she's sweaty from working and she hurts for Naomi, and she has life that she doesn't have on the page. You fill in the blanks, you add the practical aspect to the stories. I consistently forget that the people in the Bible are real, living, breathing people. I see them as stories, but you trample that with interest and a new realness. I love you for that. You inspire me to hunger after the Word like you do. You are honestly unmatched in your love of the Bible.
2. Your eyes. You speak with your eyes a lot. They're big and blue and beautiful, and they're dripping with words. It seems funny, but you can love on people with eye contact. You can say a deeper thank you with your eyes than with your words.
3. You are so talented. So, so talented. You are studious and brilliant. Creative and artistic. Thoughtful and caring. Emotional and real. Honest and direct. You have revolutionized KidsMin into a working, well-oiled machine. God pours out through that building, and you head up that whole process. You do a good job. I love working for you. I have a hard time imagining working in Children's without you. You are KidsMin to me, I've never known anything different. I don't really want to know anything different.
4. I want you in my life. I respect you and your opinions and thoughts. I think you're so knowledgeable. Pretty much I just think you're awesome. Stick around in my life.

I'll remember you and this place and these summers forever Essay. I adore them with my whole heart.

Lives Are Lines

Lives are lines, running parallel, perpendicular, simultaneous, intertwined, knotted, strained, fraying, braided, slacking, continuing...

There's nowhere to run. You can't escape what's inside.

My heart hangs heavy; a sponge, dripping with excess emotion, wrung out in tears of blood.

My love cup is a shallow one, I figure. It doesn't take much to fill it up; an invitation will do, a "hello Amber," a genuine "you're doing a good job," a pat on the back, some eye contact. Being easy to fill up is a good thing, but that also means it's easy to empty. I drain out with lightening speed. The contents of cup are sucked out into a black hole of bitterness and hurt with the avoidance of eye contact, the neglect of a hello, ignorant actions, attention given to someone else and not me - pretty much not being initiated to. If you don't reach out and touch my heart, it shrivels...

Tonight

I dig my fingers into my heart's healing bruises
I push hard on the tender skin
Knowing the pain to come
And finding some kind of pleasure in feeling it
The memories are revived
It surfaces the feelings that have slid deep into hiding

It keeps you alive
I want you alive in my world

I miss you today

and I don't know what to do about it

Questions:

Are all sins really equal in God's eyes?
1 John 5:17 - All iniquity is sin.
James 2:10-11 - For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it. For he who said, "Do not commit adultery," also said, "Do not murder." If you do not commit adultery but do commit murder, you have become a lawbreaker.
Matt 5:28 - But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. 
God holds lust on the same level as adultery. 
Each and every sin holds the ability to condemn us to hell, therefore they're all equal. 
Although some sins culturally cause much more pain and problems then other sins, making some sins seem worse than others. 
1 John 3:4 - Everyone who sins breaks the law; in fact, sin is lawlessness.

To research....

Are there different levels of hell?

It's not often that I neglect writing. Writing helps enlighten me to whatever conflicts are colliding in my head and lays them out in some logical manner. And if I can't make sense of my thoughts enough to put them into words, it's not a good sign.. I'll just say that.

Searching Through the Madness

I looked for you in the crowded street. This was our last chance, our only concrete opportunity; potentially the last time I'd cross your path. I had planned it this way, leaving you the option of meeting me if you remembered, if you wanted to. I laughed and walked, window shopping with linked arms. I ordered an ice cream that was too big and had a nostalgic moment in a year-round Christmas store. I angered a customer in the pizza shop and danced in front of the live band. But at the same time, my eyes screened the people around me. They discriminated based on gender, age, size. It was approaching midnight, the madness still running thick and the silhouettes were outlined and highlighted in yellow light. I looked for your figure, I could point it out from far away. Every glare of bared collarbone skin in a v-neck caught my eye and I checked for your face. Nothing. This yellow lighted meeting within the midnight madness never took place, to my dismay but maybe for the better. I want to see you, I want the feelings back as much as I know it's better that they stop. Our relationship is this dangling string, untied and unfinished. We're apart for good reasons, we both know, but the reason isn't us. But it is.