I woke up late this morning and had to involve everyone in the house in my problem beginning from this lack of discipline. My hastiness prompted them all to panic with me as I’m fretting about how things as trivial as my water had not yet been prepared. I even shouted at Lola Maria in an uncontrollable burst of agonizing frustration to get what I wanted in a glimpse. Today’s scene is anything but new, though one day, I sincerely want to change the way things are running around the home. Supposedly, I have to settle with the things that benefits us all. Daily “should-be’s” include, no unnecessary outrage, less complaints and worrying and never demanding. My perspective versus my behavior prompted an attitude-check causing an alarm: I’m missing the point. This morning, everything was a mess. Not because I failed to rise early from bed but because I did not rely on the Master to make the worst a best. Clearly, I manage to hurdle significant pressure and stress from the past. Until, the light of my existence vis-à-vis, the reason of my being, dawned upon me. The life which i now live, is fully determined and dependent upon that Vertical Line—my personal relationship with Jesus. I can only depend on Him and that dependence is only by grace. How very forgetful a human I am, a sinner simply forgiven. I should have kneeled down on my knees and trusted in His infinite grace to supply the days needs and fill my shortcomings. Today was tough. The only thing I can change is myself. The evil of today is sufficient for me to know the difference between the fool and wise. Just as I am.
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About Me
- Kaleidoscope
- My mind wanders, as i scrupulously speculate, how my life metamorphosed, like a fuzzy, green caterpillar into an astonishing butterfly, from a carefree, giddy girl to a half sophisticated-half siren. From the time i recapitulate, my diminutive accomplishments, and figured that there is nothing left to boast, but an ambiguous, uncomely candor, of the vicissitudes of my existence, i resolve to alter my caliginous predestination. My quest for Utopian abode dwells surreptitiously, beyond my acquisitive, hypothetical imagination, that amidst this thwarting turmoil of a tormenting journey, lies beneath is the pulchritude, of a tranquil placid state, that i succinctly depict. But uncertain ere my dreams no longer transpire, oblivious of the circumstances ahead, equivocal if i can surmount grotesque, arduous endeavor, ergo, i shun to momentarily condone this agony, still hearkening that hereafter, afflictions be transformed to bliss, foe to comrade, arraignment to exoneration, apprehensions to nonchalance and nonentity to reality. This is the kaleidoscope of my classical passion.
