*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1125378-Untitled
Rated: E · Essay · Other · #1125378
Not much of anything.
I remember one day and many years ago when we had a speaker at one of the confirmation classes at our church. We’ve had many speakers, most of which will make you feel even more tired at nine o’clock on a Sunday morning. However, some speakers are different, so make you wake up and not only physically I quite remember which of these categories this man fit into, perhaps he was somewhere in the middle

. I remember that he told us that he wanted to open with a song (even though he already begun telling his tale). I remember that I sang along with those who were singing. As we sang the song the focused on the words, and the rhythm, and the pattern:

Praise him, praise him,

Praise him in the morning

Praise him in the noontime

Praise him, praise him

Praise him when the sun goes down

Love him, loved him

Love him in the morning

Love him in the noontime

Love him, love him

Love him when the sun goes down

Serve him, serve him

Serve him in the morning

Serve him in the noontime

Serve him, serve him

Serve him when the sun goes down

Praise him, praise him

Praise him in the morning

Praise him in the noontime

Praise him, praise him

Praise him when the sun goes down.


The speaker, Mike Denk , was studying to be a priest. He had traveled to Africa previous summer and has prepared a presentation of about a fourth of his half foot stack of pictures and explained each picture and taught us of the people behind them.

I did not focus much on the pictures; I focused on the people he talked about, and the words he used. I was thinking about an essay that was to write language arts. We had to write about an incident in our lives that made us leave our world of child hood with its innocence, comfort and shelter. I’d written and rewritten paper three or four times but it never seemed quite right. My problem was that from where of a standing in my journey of life I could not see far enough back to reflect on my past. I had experienced enough to know exactly when left my world of innocence.

I realize something that day. I realized that I had power. Throughout our lives, we will always feel that we are weak, that we are powerless and that someone will always reign over us. As children, we feel this ever more. Someone has always told us what to do when, or what we cannot do and hat we should not do. I realized that we always have power. Our power comes from within us. It is somewhere, we just have to decide where it is and what form it comes in. my power comes in the form of words. Words, they can do amazing things, you can do anything with them.

I love to write. I write at least every weekday. I don’t write about anything in particular, just whatever comes from my hands. I began thinking about writing. I can make anything happen. I can create lives, or I can destroy them. I can stay were I am or I can create a new place that people say dose not exist. But how dose something exist? Dose it have to be seen, or felt , or smelt, or heard? (If you do know the answer I’d love to hear it.) With My words, I make things happen. I can create any who, any where, any when , or any why.

I can give characters emotions. I can make people fear how they are treated, and I can make them strive for a brighter future. I can make people upset for how little others have and grateful for how much they do. I can make characters grieve for a life that is lost and look back with joy, sadness, and numbness, as they remember a “departed” soul. I can cause fear and relief, love and hate, doubt and confidence, courage and cowardice. Although all these words are as different as night and day the alley to one thing.

It is amazing how one letter can change something entirely in a matter of seconds. In the song that we sang, the first phrase was about praising (a) god(s) and by changing one word exchange would all of the other words meant. Amazing isn’t it? Mr. Denk Wanted to share that song with us because the children, at the first orphanage they visited, sang it every morning. The children taught him about loving God, praising God, and serving God. The Children taught me a different lesson That day. They reminded me about a crucial four letter word: hope.

That day I learned that anything I can give my characters, I can give ME . My life will always be sheltered compared to many others. I can always shelter myself, but instead I must venture out of my sacred place inside my mind. One thing I must definitely do is keep hope. I must experience cruelty and kindness, hurt, sorrow, and desperation, and joy, happiness, and glee. I must experience of these and more so that I may experience the most important emotion of all: hope. Hope is sometimes hard to find for me. Dale is fighting with myself over every word choose, every step I make, every breath I take. I’ve slowly begun to learn how to ignore them both / all of the sides of the battle. I have learned to let hope overcome all others.

It’s amazing the power we possess within ourselves and we don’t always release it.. Sometimes it is encased in a knuckleball box that can be opened. The box is simply ourselves and others , are doubts, our fears, of this criticism and it can be opened through ourselves with courage. It takes a strong person to open the power and release it and no one can guarantee that you wont feel weak at times. You just have to hope. I learn that one cold and damp yet sunny and bight February day. I discover the truth while listening to a song, a speaker, looking at pictures, arguing with myself, and thinking too much.

Now I realize that perhaps my greatest moment where I entered a new yet old state of mind was that very day that I entered back into the life of hope. And I realized that perhaps that was the moment I should have written about for that paper. Well it’s to late now isn’t it, can not dawdle on the past can we. I wonder what I did write about for that paper, for the life of me I can’t remember. Does not matter much you only need to remember what you do remember.

That day is a day I will never forget. I know this because you can not forget something you live out each and every day can you? Maybe you can but I suppose that there would have to be something to take its place. Because then we would be empty and we would simply exist rather than live. If there is anything that I have learned, it is that if you let go of something is where so much to bring it back then it is almost impossible. We have to decide if it is worth it. However it can’t be forgotten that some things are meant to be here. Think of it as a child who loses his toy at a public park. The next day when he searches for his toy, he cannot find it. Now imagine that across town a young boy whose parents can scarcely afford to live in the community home ad have food to eat, found that toy. The boy is granted more than a possession the boy now has some thing to trust in, to love, and to care for. Both boys can show us that it dose not always matter how the “toy” is in your life but why it is. Although it is not always a s evident as the boys and a lost toy these unknown exchanges of “toys” occur daily and help bring hope into others lives.

Everyone at some point has been told to grow up or act their age. People see others as immature and careless or childish. Is there anything wrong with a childish heart that accepts everyone for who they are? There is nothing wrong with the hear t of a child as long as we don’t forget to incorporate one important thing. I as in oneself, your hopes and desires and fears can all be summed up by the simple letter I. The most important thing as humans we have is ourselves. No mater what happens we always have ourselves. It is not being selfish to cherish I because I includes every thing that needs care and attention inside and out. That one precious letter sums up millions and millions of words. Some try to take I away from other. I have learned to always keep hope that you will never let go of I.
© Copyright 2006 myownmind (myownmind at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1125378-Untitled