July 29, 1998 – Wednesday – 8:00 a.m.

The scenery we saw between Johannasburg and Piet Retief took my breath away.  When we arrived Jon and I played on a small playground before we went to pray for people at the hospital.

The hospital was very tragic.  I prayed for many men: men with tumors, men without arms, boys with the entire backs of their legs gone.  It was a sad sight.  The medical technology didn’t seem great.  We then went to visit the children.  The crying pierced my ears.  The children of the squatter camps seemed blessed compared to these children.  Oh Lord, I’m so sorry for taking my health for granted.  Forty minutes before we arrived, a woman had given birth to a dead baby.

Why has God given me so much?

Last night we played capture the flag, watched a beautiful sunset, and then, there above us, with no light pollution to spoil it, was a moonless sky.  It was the first time I was able to see the pure night sky from the Southern Hemisphere.  It was a different sky altogether.  The milky way was super bright, and several shooting stars flew past us.  I walked away from the group, laid on the ground, stared into the abyss, and faded away.

Why do I ever have a worry in the world, when I’m loved by a God who could make such sights?

May 26, 1997 – Monday – 11:50 p.m.

After last night I went over to Crystal and Clifton’s and we watched Tommy Boy and hung out a bit.  Molly, Caroline, Dan, Charlie and others were over there.  Crystal wasn’t there though.  Her mom said she wasn’t doing to well spiritually.  She got her tongue pierced.  Ouch!  God help her.

This morning, Vince came by.  He and I plus Allen and his mom went to the Emporium in Blowing Rock.  I ordered a sweet and sour spud; absolutely delicious.

Vince and I visited Sharon and family this evening.  I worked on their computer a little.  We visited with some relatives of theirs down the road a ways.  Then we made a campfire and had smores.

There is such innocence and purity in these mountains.  Life is very simple and sweet these days.  I breathe, I eat, I laugh, I smile.  I stop and look at the beautiful green mountains and give thanks.  I pray, I sleep with my teddy bear, and I go for long walks in God’s creation.

I love Him.

I love Him.

I love Him.

January 18, 1997 – Saturday – 6:30 p.m.

There’s something I’m not understanding.  I know I am a creation of God.  And I know that sin broke the original bond.  I know that Jesus’ blood has made a door that allows me to enter into the grace of God.

So, everything is complete.

But, I am being haunted.

Voices, eyes, smiles, they won’t let me break free.

Does one ever forget?  Or is this part of the joy?

I think now that God sees I understand the death of his son for a doorway into his grace, I believe he is now trying to show me why.

A day does not pass in which I don’t grow closer, in which a new angle is not seen, in which a soul’s eyes do not let me inside their true self.

A day does not pass in which I do not fall more in love with everything God created.

Souls have told me I have helped them become who they are.  Does that mean I have aided in their creation?

But perhaps an hour or two or a couple of years will pass and our two earthly souls haven’t been in fellowship, time and space prevents us from sharing those two very things.

Jesus died and rose in order to welcome us into his fellowship, both with him and everyone else, his bride, his grace, his glory, his everything.  Is he hurting when we are an hour or two away from each other?  Is he hurting when when two members that make up his bride can’t be together?

My collection is growing.

I know more souls now than ever.

I have seen more eyes now than ever.

I have created more smiles now than ever.

And I believe I am beginning to understand why he died.

I can’t imagine what it must feel like to give your own life for your creation…and they not even notice.

I am so sorry God.

October 28, 1993 – Thursday – 6:12 p.m.

Something happened yesterday.  You’re probably thinking something happened at church.  Well, you’re wrong, this happened at school.

On March 5, 1993, a Friday, I wrote something in my first Book of Days about a woman named Mrs. Nance.  She was my chemistry teacher then.  I would not have given her that letting, sharing the gospel with her, if I did not know she was dying of cancer.  No one ever knew if she was a Christian or not.  We all just knew she was a firm believer in evolution and not creation.  She’s had cancer for a long time and during my junior year she would be out for weeks at a time.  I liked it when that happened because we didn’t actually have to do chemistry when the substitute teacher was there.  I hated chemistry with a passion; it was so confusing.

Mrs. Nance often talked about dying.  She talked about how much money and pain it was costing her just to stay alive a little longer.  Once day a student asked her if she considered quitting and not spending the money to pay for all the chemotherapy and just let it all go.

She said, “No, I will do whatever it takes to stay here as long as I can.  I’m not ready to go yet and I will stay with my husband and my song as long as I can.”

Two weeks ago, Mrs. Nance left school.  The doctor had given her two weeks left to live.  She looked so pitiful; her skin was yellow.

We got word yesterday that she passed away.

Mrs. Nance is dead.

In Spanish, Mr. Benton read this poem:

Sunset and evening star,
      And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
      When I put out to sea,
   But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
      Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
      Turns again home.
   Twilight and evening bell,
      And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
      When I embark;
   For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
      The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
      When I have crost the bar.
 
I fear this poem has a meaning I haven’t entirely grasped yet, but as I get closer to the lighthouse, I know I will.