Lemurick pt2

Lemurick slowly grew older, but no more uncommon, his mother always told him that he was special, but after a while Lemurick started to doubt. Once he made the mistake of telling the other children that his mother said he was special. They laughed and told him that he was the most un-special person they had met and all mothers are supposed to think their kids are special. Lemurick was surprised- the thought had never occurred to him that other mothers might think their children to be special. He watched carefully and discovered that it was true, in fact, nearly every mother he saw thought her child was at least partly different. All mothers are like that, and fathers too, the children said. Lemurick thought long and hard about this and determined it was because children are a reflection of their parents. The parents, ever striving to be good, different, and special; think that since they themselves are so, that their children must be as well. Lemurick was dumbfounded. Was his own mother the same way? Had she lied to him for his whole life by telling him he was different and important when he was really common and worthless? Lemurick determined not to ask her, at least not yet- he didn't know if he wanted to know the truth. As the months went by, Lemurick got quieter and more sullen. He spent most of his time silently observing the life around him, scared to join it and terrified to be apart from it. He could see that there were so many problems with his world, but it would be impossible for him to exist without it. Now Lemurick's mother annoyed him, he saw her as fake and every time she told him that he was special and loved, his anger boiled inside him. One day he couldn't hold it in any longer. "Why do you lie to me?" He demanded. His mother was surprised at his outburst. "What do you mean, my son?" she asked shyly. Lemurick softened. "Why do you keep telling me I am special when I am no different than any other, in fact, I am probably the most common person I know."

Lemurick pt1

Once upon a time there lived a boy named Lemurick. Lemurick was a fairly ordinary boy to most everyone except his mother. Even his father considered him to be quite usual- he wasn't very big and he wasn't very small, he wasn't very smart, but he wasn't very dumb. He couldn't do handstands or sing or run fast and he had a face that was easily confused with other ordinary little boys. In fact, most people paid little attention to Lemurick, and those who did know who he was could never for the life of them remember what his name was. None of this bothered little Lemurick- for he was not alone. You see, where he lived there were quite a few ordinary little boys, so many in fact, that their parents were always trying to dress them up and teach them new skills, parade them around and boast at how unusual their child is compared to an ordinary one. For them there is nothing worse than being ordinary, for people do not sing songs praising the ordinary, they do not give ordinary people gifts or desire to be their friend. Lemurick's entire world was centered around the quest to be unusual, to be the name on everyone's lips, to walk by and hear the murmuring of ordinary people wishing they were like you.

Every once in a while there was born a child who was really and truly special, right from birth. These children had everything made for them, an easy life of fame and fortune. Or so one would think, but these children often grew up to be adults who killed and slandered each other in order to be the best and to survive the dangerous life at the top. They were ever discontent and always needed more. Lemurick could consider himself lucky he was not born special, and so he did- although no one else in the world would agree.

The Magic of Christmas?

Merry Christmas! A little girl's wish comes true, suddenly tightwads feel like they should throw some money at poor homeless people, and families that fight all year pretend to like each other for a whole day. Somehow the world has taught us that at Christmas the world should be a wonderful place and that all of the bad things in the world should stop for one day. How many people buy this? A dwindling number, I'm sure. For many Christmas has become nothing more than another popularity contest- who can get the best gifts, wear the best outfit to the party, or even make the best holiday cookies. It's not hard to see why some people hate Christmas, but I happen to like it. I love to give gifts and hang with my family, and listen to the Christmas story. But Christmas holds no special magic for me- I don't expect that by wishing for world peace it will magically come, I don't expect everyone to love my gifts or to give me perfect ones. I don't even hold it as a special "religious holiday" because the day is not known when Jesus was born. I do celebrate the fact that He came to earth to die for me, to give me hope of real life. I wish that everyone could have the hope that I have and the joy that fills my heart. Fortunately, it does not only come at Christmastime- but is offered to me (and everyone) all year long! So Merry Christmas.

Chase the wind, lose your breath

I thought about filling this space with words. Mostly questions about how to live, like: how do I be "In the world but not of it?", and how do I run the race set before me?, and am how do I find time to pray when all I can think about is me? Then I realized that I already know the answer to all of those questions. Seek Christ. The rest sort of falls into place. So I did end up filling this space with words after all...