Much like a Blind Man

One might ask a blind man what he dreams of.  How could a man who was blind from birth dream of things he hasn’t seen?  Would he dream of colour?  His wife’s face?  The pleasant mountain view?  How could he dream of something that he does not know? 

Everyone can be much like a blind man.  Trapped inside our own world, taking into consideration only what we know.  We may see our abundant riches and large residencies and not begin to fathom the heartbreak of poverty suffered by many.  How can a visionary from a high estate possibly dictate the needs of the meek?        

Knowing myself and my own struggles, I see that I have not always viewed the world from my adversaries’ eyes.  How can I possibly perceive even a hue as they do.  Much like a blind man, I cannot dream of what I have not seen.  I have not seen through anyone’s eyes but my own.   I have not felt with anyone’s hands but my own.  All I know is what’s in my world.   So I cannot expect anyone to know and think as I do.  And you cannot expect me to know and think as you do.  For we are all much like a blind man.

Optimism

I was recently asked what optimistic meant.  I responded with this... I just had to post it!

An optimist is someone who has a positive outlook on life... you know, someone who sees every bad thing as an opportunity for change and improvement.  Therefore, to be optimistic is to be generally happy no matter what happens to you.

Just wanted to post that.  Thanks.

The End

THE END

His legs throbbed as he lay on the hard ground.  His vision blurred and the only sounds he could hear were the distant sirens and the beating of his own heart.  People surrounded him with interest and deep concern.  He felt as if this were the end.

            It’s funny how we try so hard, we push ourselves to the very maximum to create hope in the world but with this pushing, we end up bringing self-destruction.  As this noble marathoner lay on the hot pavement, he couldn’t help but feel as a failure.  Everything he’d hoped and dreamed for, all his ambitions had been lost in this one fund-raising marathon.

            He could still feel the sun beating down on him, welcoming him to his presence.  Sweat of pain and endurance trickled across his forehead and dampened his hair.  Nothing seemed real.  The world moved around him but he was trapped in that feeling of failure.

            As the medics lifted him onto the gurney, he could feel his thrown-down body throb.  The only vivid thing in his mind right then was the picture of his son, his son’s face.  He now felt as if he were floating while the ambulance sped along to bring him to the care he needed at the hospital.

            The sirens were just above the man’s head, yet they still seemed so distant.  The emergency workers in the ambulance applied an oxygen mask to keep him breathing and brought him water for hydration.  In his head he knew that he would be okay, more or less.  Yet somewhere in the dark depths of his soul, he felt that this was the end, he had failed.

            Slowly his son’s picture in his mind faded away.  His head throbbed with the thoughts that troubled him.  His regrets, his mistakes, his terrible sins.  He closed his swelling eyes and prayed a prayer for forgiveness, humbling himself to the God he never really got to know.  He prayed that in his last moment he could be cleansed from his sins.

            The troubled man felt something come over him, something that urged him to keep trying, to keep pushing.  That same feeling that got him to run the many marathons in the first place.  In his heart he knew that his job was not yet done.  He had so much further to go, so many more things to achieve.  Whether he was to continue running to raise money for cancer research, for those like his son, or if he was to continue learning about the God that pushed him forward from this dark moment in his life.

            No matter where he would go from here, this would not be the end

God's Effect Part 2

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