Often I meet people who I can’t help but wonder about, how is it that they even exist? Just when I thought I had an understanding of people, someone new comes along and completely challenges all I ever knew about what people are like:
Take one pair of sisters for example, there is that same sweetness in their relationship with one another that you find with my characters in one my stories, Jeanna and Avalon. I didn’t think that existed in reality, not on the level that my characters exhibit. Yet, there it is, existing, in reality, almost identically to what my characters hold.
One woman holds an unearthly wisdom, her daughter holds extraordinary, you could almost say prophetic, insight.
One young lady is a clear glass, filled with a glorious light.
One man holds a supernatural patience, peace, courage, and strength in spite of the storms that might surround him.
These are just people. Unknown, unnoticed by most, they are not celebrities, they are not kings or queens. Just ordinary people. Students, sisters, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, artist, factory workers, teachers, pastors. Perhaps that is what makes them so extraordinary. There is something about them that makes them something so much more then just a king or queen, something more then any celebrity. There is a greatness about them, a specialness to them, even an authority to them beyond that held by any ruler of this world. But, they’re never heard of, or known, except by those fortunate enough to know them, how can I not think the world of them wherever I find them?
(As a side note, sometimes they do happen to be kings, queens, rulers, and celebrities, etc. but at the end of the day, even those are people before their role as a king, queen, or what have you. Some of these can be so extraordinary in their ordinary as well, just doing what they do, even if they happen to be well known for it.)
Yet, they all have their darkness, they all have something lost. This is the tragedy of the human condition. The ordinary is extraordinary, but we all have lost something. I ask, if we being creatures cloaked in shadow, are so extraordinary, what were we like cloaked in light? It is almost frightening to consider how far we’ve fallen, if being fallen, we are this extraordinary. It invokes in me a pity and compassion for humanity, knowing what we were, and seeing what we are. Above all, it gives me hope, hope that what was lost, may yet be found.
Even so, doubt gnaws at me, saying that there are others who either have changed, or never were. What if all these people really are not so wonderfully precious as they seem to me? What if we really are living lies?
How can it be wrong to place a high value upon people though, are they not precious in reality? But what is it? Why do I see them and call them precious? Perhaps it is because they are.
Sometimes, even though I don’t really even know very many of them, my prayer is that others will be blessed children indeed. That God’s blessings will be upon them, in abundance beyond their wildest dreams. That they will walk in perfect peace, that they know joy, and that their sorrows will be few.
I pray they will walk with purpose, and will remain ever steadfast to God, and to each other. May they see the works of their hands prosper in all the works of their soul. Let not their waters be bitter, but may it ever turn to sweet wine.
Bless these precious ones Lord, bless them, amen.
That is my prayer, my desire is that it is the prayer I pray for all who I encounter, regardless of whether I like them or not. It is not for me to decide who to love and hate after all. I only know that I am to love even my enemies. I suppose, there isn’t a lot of room left after that for anything else.