a tear slid down my cheek. one isolated sign that something was broken in me. a wound. a gnawing pull against my heart. someone said i was self-absorbed. and wrapped up in stretching my own victories for all to see. what do we do when someone hurts us? when we believe it's unfair? i have learned that there is ALWAYS a pocket of truth in EVERYTHING someone says to me. to take heed. evaluate. ask God to reveal it to us. people were crushing me against a book table following an appearance. books thrust in my face to be autograghed. for a few moments, it was scary. no air. trying to catch my breath. men were pushing the crowd back when a young man yelled... you are a complete phony. i do not believe one thing you said on stage tonight. it was hollow and empty. there was an audible gasp. in the massive crowd.. around me. shock. i stopped. looked at all the faces. it was that guy to the side. i just knew it. he slipped away. it was a reminder that i am flawed. that a meek spirit is what matters. to keep my heart..my eyes..on Jesus. keep running the Race. take the blows. understand it is a part of the battle between good and evil. darts and arrows puncture us. but Jesus interrupts to protect us. He is the Victor. and we are His. Truth prevails. photo used by permission copyright Judy Silverstein 2009 scripture reference taken from NIV version

i have a dear friend.
beautiful. unpretentious.
pure. and all God's.

a storm blasted her family
last week. the world lay flat.
the sky reached down and slashed
the earth. side to side.

my friend's brother.
tall. chiseled features.
brilliant, in spite of learning
disabilities. senior pastor
of a large church.

from the blast of depression.
in a moment and time when it
seemed so reasonable to him,
he took his life.

storms.
howl and blow around us.
stand fast. hold on.

yes, i believe he's with Jesus.
"He understands our frame;
He knows we are dust."

Psalm 103:14

"i'll praise you in this storm.
and i will lift my hands, for You are
who You are. no matter where i am,
every tear i've cried, you hold in your hand.
You never left my side,
and though my heart is torn,
i will praise You in this storm."

"as the thunder rolls,
i barely hear Your whisper through the rain,
i'm with you. and as You mercy falls,
i raise my hands and praise the God who gives
and takes away."

i will lift my eyes unto the hills,
where does my help come?
my help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of Heaven and earth.

Psalm 121:1,2

warriors.
we wear the scars.
even if it just keeps raining.