our neighbors' visit

I've always believed everything happens for a reason; ever since the days I was a young believer. God had strengthened my faith in my past by allowing me to go through circumstances in life, things that I will remember for the rest of my life. Looking back, God was constantly by my side, even when I felt He was far away. In my early years as a follower of Christ, God was a Heavenly Father Who loved a disciplined child. In my mind, He blessed those who were willing to give up their comfort in this world in order to follow Him. He loved me, alright, but not that much. I always wanted to do the right thing but I always messed up. When I made a mess, I felt God's love for me diminished instantly. Then, I would try so hard to be a good child for the next few days, weeks, even months, and not allowing myself to make any mistake. If I did, then all my hard work would simply be canceled away.

Over the years, I've learned, God's love for me is nothing like I've pictured. He is still my Heavenly Father, but He loves me unconditionally. He always allows events to unfold in my life in order to teach me that He isn't the strict father I had pictured who will only love me if I did something right in His eyes. I also believe strongly that He speaks to me through the everyday tasks I do; reading a book, or simply looking at pictures.

Our next door neighbors came over last night. Along with them were some nice cookies (which is always a good thing,) and some nice traveling stories. They had just came back from Israel, we were excited and anxious to hear about their trip, and were also ready to see all the photos they willed to share. Sitting at our dining room table, I was astounded by those photos stored in their lap top. With my mouth half open, I was also listening intently where each photo was taken, and the stories behind each experience.

There it was, the Holy Land, captured down in photographs, silently but powerfully making its presence. This was the place where Jesus, my Jesus, was born. And died. Through the photographs, I saw what Jesus saw. The temple, the City of David, the streets, the houses, and the very spot believed to be His death. The Sea of Galilee, where Jesus calmed the storm. All became so real to me, I felt God was telling me, "See? This was where I sent my One and Only Son for you. This was where Jesus thought about you when he took his last breath. This place really exists; I really exist."

I believe God talks to me through many things. The whole night I couldn't get those images out of my head. I even saw them again in my dreams. It is through experiences like this I can feel His gentle nudge, telling me that He was there, and He is still here. Oftentimes I allow my everyday tasks take away my time with Him. "I am too busy for you, God. Can't you see, I have two kids to tend to. I can't talk to you right now. You don't even talk back to me sometimes, I wonder if you really are there." It is then through His gentle and yet convincing touch that I realized, that He is here. You see, my God talks to me even through photographs.

I've always believed everything happens for a reason. I've been crying to God the past few weeks, telling Him to please show Himself to me. I couldn't feel Him, I need to know that He is still here. Then my neighbors came for a visit.