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 Untitled (Jan. 18, 2014) |
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Reply ID: q46t
Hey bro (Calhoun 25),
Thank you for your recent comments. Your suggestions have really left me contemplating where I really stand with Christ. Especially your comment about that aching in my heart may be due to a deeper relationship with Christ.
I know that ultimately our Father is in control of the vents that take place in our lives and when they should occur. But how do I quench this burning desire inside myself? I pray continuously about all my feelings and God is perfect with His responses, but with my petitions about love, all I hear is crickets. I'm becoming flustered about this!
Am I praying amiss? Am I asking for too much at once?
Prison can be a very lonely place, especially without being able to converse with someone who mentally challenges you or stimulates your mind. I'm not saying I'm a genius, but there is no one inside these walls whom I've met who is intellectually compatible with me. So, I have to expand my horizon and search elsewhere. Like here on my blog page. And a person of the opposite sex seems like a logical request.
But the closer I feel to finally making that connection, the further I realize I am because what woman really has time to try and connect with an inmate?
And that's where my faith in God comes into play. He will either bless me with love outside of our relationship or not. I pray for the former. :)
God bless you.
Rechell Williams #V69138
P.O. Box 5248
Corcoran, CA 93212
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by wendy cope
On Waterloo Bridge, where we said our goodbyes,
The weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.
I wipe them away with a black woolly glove
And try not to notice I’ve fallen in love.
On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:
This is nothing. You’re high on the charm and the drink.
But the juke-box inside me is playing a song
That says something different. And when was it wrong?
On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair
I am tempted to skip. You’re a fool. I don’t care.
The head does its best but the heart is the boss —
I admit it before I am halfway across.
*******************************************
Flowers
Some men never think of it.
You did. You’d come along
And say you’d nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.
The shop was closed. Or you had doubts —
The sort that minds like ours
Dream up incessantly. You thought
I might not want your flowers.
It made me smile and hug you then.
Now I can only smile.
But, look, the flowers you nearly brought
Have lasted all this while.