Perfect Son II

But then again, what does it mean to be perfect? Is there really any person that is perfect? Someone who has never done wrong, as in, never ever? Honestly, I’m not perfect. I’ve done some good, but I’ve done bad too, lots of bad. My wrong doings created a need to be forgiven. I found that forgiveness in God, my heavenly father, who welcomed me back from my straying…..and then it hit me- I was never the perfect son, I was the other one, the non PESODITE. Wow.
Funny I had been judging myself all along but I learnt some lessons:

Don’t judge;
Forgive others as God forgives us- if the world was perfectly void of offences and if we never needed forgiving, there would be no need to forgive or be forgiven. Plus, forgiving helps the offended party move beyond strong negative emotions saving him from psychological and physical harm;
Forgive yourself- receiving forgiveness releases the offender from blame and guilty feeling and helps him move forward past the offence. Plus, “I think that if God forgives us we must forgive ourselves. Otherwise, it is almost like setting up ourselves as a higher tribunal than Him” (C.S Lewis).

Though, I’ve learnt these lessons, I still need God’s help each day to practice them. Perfect? I’m far from it, but I desire to be perfect as God my Father is. Forgiveness is a choice I’ll make so long as I remain imperfect (so help me God). But when I am perfect and stop needing forgiveness, stop doing wrong, I mean beyond ‘never hurt a fly’ perfect….forgiveness won’t be a choice, it will be a habit.


By Victory

Perfect Son I

When we watch a movie or read a story, we mostly remember the main characters, we sometimes don’t pay attention to the supporting characters and almost make the extras invisible. As a child in Sunday School, I heard about the old story of the prodigal son who left home and came back and was forgiven by his father…he even got a welcome home gift and party. Remember there were two sons? Do you remember the older son, the perfect one who did not mess up? 
Unlike most people, I saw this as more than just a story of forgiveness- it was also a story of how the perfect son was unfairly treated, and it kind of got me angry. This is how I imagined his story: he was the older son, really hard working, responsible, loyal and obedient, in summary, the good one. Unlike his brother, he never indirectly said stuff like “Hey dad, I can’t wait for you to die, so just read your will and let me have my cut”. I imagined him telling his younger brother “Come on Joey, not cool”. Even when he saw that his brother’s request actually pushed through, he didn’t go “Me too, me too!” he stuck with his dad, didn’t leave him lonely. He didn’t just stay back; he kept working hard and obeying while ‘Joey’ spent hard. He never got a well done gift or party but he remained loyal.
One day, he went to the field (I guess to work as usual) and when he came home, there was a party. At last, a surprise party, acknowledging him, else how do you explain his not being informed? So he called a servant and asks what was going on and guess the reply- his brother who left home and wasted all their father’s money he got was being celebrated. He even got the fat calf his elder brother probably fattened. How do you think he felt? Of course he was angry! He didn’t even get invited to the party. So he refused to go in. His father then came out to ask him to come in, and this time, he poured out his grievances. But, his father tried to make him see the reason to celebrate.
This made me angry. It didn’t seem fair. Personally, I have always made a conscious effort to be a good girl, the obedient one who never gave her parents much trouble or drama. In fact, it seems I had had this determination before I had my first milk teeth….. Oh yes, I’ve got a witness. Mom told me that as a baby, I didn’t stress her out when I wanted to sleep, unlike my younger sister. She said I’d just go lie down and I’m off. So it’s not too surprising that I saw the story in this light. How can you tell me, the self-acclaimed founder of the Perfect Sons and (apparently) Daughters Association (PESODA) that all I get for being a PESODITE  is to attend a welcome back party in honor of a non PESODITE? Not fair!

by victory 

As You Go Through Life

Don’t look for the flaws as you go through life;
And even when you find them,
It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind
And look for the virtue behind them.
For the cloudiest night has a hint of light
Somewhere in its shadows hiding;
It is better by far to hunt for a star,
Than the spots on the sun abiding.

The current of life runs ever away
To the bosom of God’s great ocean.
Don’t set your force ‘gainst the river’s course
And think to alter its motion.
Don’t waste a curse on the universe –
Remember it lived before you.
Don’t butt at the storm with your puny form,
But bend and let it go o’er you.

The world will never adjust itself
To suit your whims to the letter.
Some things must go wrong your whole life long,
And the sooner you know it the better.
It is folly to fight with the Infinite,
And go under at last in the wrestle;
The wiser man shapes into God’s plan
As water shapes into a vessel.

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

A Man In His Life

by Yehuda Amichai

A man doesn't have time in his life
to have time for everything.
He doesn't have seasons enough to have
a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes
Was wrong about that.

A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment,
to laugh and cry with the same eyes,
with the same hands to throw stones and to gather them,
to make love in war and war in love.
And to hate and forgive and remember and forget,
to arrange and confuse, to eat and to digest
what history
takes years and years to do.

A man doesn't have time.
When he loses he seeks, when he finds
he forgets, when he forgets he loves, when he loves
he begins to forget.

And his soul is seasoned, his soul
is very professional.
Only his body remains forever
an amateur. It tries and it misses,
gets muddled, doesn't learn a thing,
drunk and blind in its pleasures
and its pains.

He will die as figs die in autumn,
Shriveled and full of himself and sweet,
the leaves growing dry on the ground,
the bare branches pointing to the place
where there's time for everything.

A Song Of Life

In the rapture of life and of living,
I lift up my head and rejoice,
And I thank the great Giver for giving
The soul of my gladness a voice.
In the glow of the glorious weather,
In the sweet-scented, sensuous air,
My burdens seem light as a feather
They are nothing to bear.

In the strength and the glory of power,
In the pride and the pleasure of wealth
(For who dares dispute me my dower
Of talents and youth-time and health?) ,
I can laugh at the world and its sages
I am greater than seers who are sad,
For he is most wise in all ages
Who knows how to be glad.

I lift up my eyes to Apollo,
The god of the beautiful days,
And my spirit soars off like a swallow,
And is lost in the light of its rays.
Are tou troubled and sad? I beseech you
Come out of the shadows of strife
Come out in the sun while I teach you
The secret of life.

Come out of the world – come above it
Up over its crosses and graves,
Though the green earth is fair and I love it,
We must love it as masters, not slaves.
Come up where the dust never rises
But only the perfume of flowers
And your life shall be glad with surprises
Of beautiful hours.
Come up where the rare golden wine is
Apollo distills in my sight,
And your life shall be happy as mine is,
And as full of delight.

by  

Ella Wheeler Wilcox