Love the Creator? Then Love the Creation.

"People get angry at environmentalists because they think they’re slowing down the economy and creating restrictions and a lot of these people are Christian. A lot of these people are very devout Christians and that’s such a confusing thing to me - that if you believe that God gave you the Earth, that God created the Earth for you, why would you not have to look after it? Why would you not think that when he came back he wouldn't go, “What the **** did you do?! I GAVE THIS TO YOU!" - Louis C.K.

I'm in complete agreement with Louie on this one. There are so many people who claim to be Christians and love God, but don't care about this wonderful world that was created and given to us to live in. Just like Louie, I don't understand this. As a Christian who loves God and appreciates what he has given us, I believe we need to look after this planet. We shouldn't continue destroying this crazily amazing world that we are allowed to live in.

Nature is how I connect with God. I understand him more as I discover more of this beautiful planet that he made. I feel his presence whenever I'm out in nature and away from human creations. So the fact that people who claim to worship the same creator that I worship feel no remorse over destroying this planet disgusts me.

Look at it this way, if someone just gave you a couple of acres of beautiful land with wonderful animals and plants because they loved you that much, how would you treat that land? Would you chop down all the trees and let all the plants die? Would you drive all of the animals out of their habitats? Would you completely destroy that land? If you did all that, how do you think the person who gave it to you would react? Do you think they would be happy with what you did to their creation, their gift to you?

Just some food for thought.

My Hiding Place.

This is just a short creative writing, I hope you enjoy it!

Thoughts of you slithered their way back into my mind. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get them to leave me alone, and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted them to. 

I went to my hiding place. The cool spring breeze stroked my face and toyed with my hair as I paced along the low cliffs by the rushing river. This little place was my escape from the rest of the world. I sat down on the edge of a cliff and stared into the inviting, dark waters below me.

Dozens of small rocks were scattered around me. I picked one up and examined it carefully. Dark grey with speckles of black peppered across it's nearly spherical surface. The color reminded me of a moment I shared with you. A happy memory. I threw the rock as far out into the currant as I could, and watched it splash into the water, never to resurface.

Soon I was tossing rock after rock after rock into the cold water below me. I would pick each one up, examine it, and throw it out as far as possible. Brown ones, black ones, and more grey ones. Each a different shape and decorated differently.

With every rock I threw, I tossed a thought of you away with it. Your eyes, your smile, your voice, your kindness, your caring nature, your humor, your perseverance. Every detail of you. Everything I admire about you. Gone in an instant.

With a long sigh I picked myself up, brushed myself off and began to walk away. With every pace I felt my heart growing more and more distant from you. I felt the butterflies in my stomach fly away. The ache in my chest felt as if I was being ripped apart piece by piece. Breathing became harder and soon I felt suffocated by loss of you.

I turned and ran back down the rocky path towards the cliffs. Without hesitation I sprinted across the cliff that was my hiding place and leaped out into the dark currant. Water rushed into my lungs. Coldness tightened my muscles and it was impossible for me to see through the murky water. 

Details of you returned to my mind. The way you walked. The way you talked. The little spark you get in your eye when you talk about something you're passionate about. The music of your laughter. Everything I tried so hard to forget. Every rock found it's way back to me. 

I couldn't leave my rocks. I couldn't survive without them.

I never resurfaced.

Greasy Hands

Although it was not sunny outside today, and I typically don't like to go outside during cloudy days, the bike trail was singing it's Siren's Song in my head and I could not get it out. I didn't resist the urge to hop on my greasy old bike and take a trip down the ever popular bike trail. I was not even a quarter mile down the trail when something happened that I did not expect. One of my headphones fell out of my ear and got itself tangled in the chain of my bike. I pulled my bike over with a sigh, realizing that I could not ride any further with it stuck in there.

I've never been afraid of getting my hands dirty. Even as a child I would go from playing Barbies with my dad (yes, dad) to making mud pies out in the yard. I was intrigued by the feel of the cool, slick mud between my fingers. 

I set my bike on the cold grass next to the trail, got down on my knees and got to work. It was a messy job, and I soon found my hands covered in grease. I wasn't entirely sure how long it would take me to get my headphones unwrapped, or if I could even do it at all. As I toiled over this task, cyclists began to pass me by. One, two, three, two more, six, eight, twelve.... it added up rather quickly and I eventually lost count.

I don't look like a typical cyclist. I wear jeans, Chuck's, and a t-shirt during most of my ventures down the trail, and I ride a 20 year old street cruiser that belonged to my late grandmother. It would be obvious to anyone that passed me by that I was not an experienced rider and probably had no idea how to fix whatever problem I was having.

What surprised me was this: no one stopped to ask if I was okay or needed help. Please don't interpret me incorrectly, I don't have an "entitled" mentality or anything of the sort. I just know that if I saw someone in the state I was in on the side of the trail I would pull over without question and make sure they were okay, especially if they were alone like I was. I would offer my aid, even if it was just letting them borrow my phone to call a friend who could help them. 

I don't understand where our sense of community has gone. When did we collectively stop helping our fellow man? When did we all decide to start putting ourselves first? Perhaps it is fear that prevents us from helping a stranger. But how scary looking am I? I'm just an average 18 year old girl, I don't look like the rapists murderers we see on the news.

"Love your neighbor as yourself." Matthew 22:39