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lawrenceop · 3 years

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HOMILY for 15th Sun after Pentecost (Dominican rite)

Gal 5:25-26, 6:1-10; Luke 7:11-16

Here in the Rosary Shrine, I celebrate Mass both in the reformed Roman Rite, and also in the Dominican rite. Consequently, on most Sundays I would have a different set of Scripture readings to pray and think about, and so I would sometimes write two different sermons. Over the course of the year, as I’ve now read through the whole of the Lectionary in the older form of the Mass, I am frequently struck by the epistles that are appointed to be read during this time after Pentecost. The vast majority of the passages are from the pastoral epistles, which deal with relations among Christians. Hence the epistles read in the Mass are directed ad intra, instruction for the Christian assembled for divine worship, and they tell us how we are to treat one another, how we should behave within Christ’s holy Church, and thus the kind of virtues we should foster as disciples of Jesus Christ.

Consider, for example, this sentence from St Paul’s letter to the Galatians today: “Brethren, if a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Look to yourself, lest you too be tempted.” Just before this passage, St Paul has listed the fruits of the Spirit, among which is gentleness. So, here again, he exhorts us to be gentle with one another, particularly when someone has fallen into sin, presumably even serious sin. In the Greek text, the fruit of the spirit, translated as gentleness is prautes, which means mildness of disposition, meekness, just as Christ says in Matthew 11:29 that he is “meek [or gentle] and lowly in heart”; the same Greek word, prautes is used here. The Latin translation by St Jerome, interestingly, uses two different Latin words for prautes. In Galatians 5:23, when St Paul lists the gifts of the Holy Spirit, prautes is translated as mansuetudo, which means tameness, mildness, clemency. And then, when the same Greek word recurs in today’s epistle passage, in Galatians 6:1, the translation of prautes is lenitas, which means softness, tenderness, and leniency. So, how are we to treat a fellow Christian who has fallen into sin? St Paul says that one who has the gifts of the Holy Spirit would behave gently, with mildness just as Christ is mild and un-condemning with us, and with leniency.

Why is this? Because we have clay feet, we are fallible sinful people too, because we too might be tempted and fall into sin. Hence, he says: “look to yourself”, watch out, mind your own business! Hence Our Lord also warns us in St John’s Gospel: “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” (Jn 8:7). Or in St Matthew’s Gospel: “Judge not lest you be judged” (Mt 7:1), which is not a call for us to relinquish any discernment of right from wrong, but rather a warning not to presume to condemn another Christian. For, as St James says in his pastoral epistle: “He that… judges a brother… judges the law. But if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the Law but a judge. There is [but] one lawgiver and judge, he who is able to save and to destroy. But who are you that you judge your neighbour?” (Jm 4:11-12)

The Holy Spirit, therefore, gives us his gifts of wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord, so that we might bear fruit, including the fruit of meekness, gentleness, lowliness of heart. For it is with a spirit of gentleness that we shall be kept from falling into the grave sin of spiritual pride, of judging and condemning a brother or sister in Christ. St Jerome’s use of the word mansuetudo, tameness, suggests that the Holy Spirit is seen to be at work in our lives when he tames us, and so we are held back from harsh judgment of a fellow Christian, and so we exhibit that other fruit of the Holy Spirit, namely, self-control.

Among the gifts of the Holy Spirit are those that affect our knowledge–firstly, knowledge concerning God and the revelations of God and the means to salvation. But also true knowledge about ourselves. So St Paul enunciates a fundamental truth for us in today’s epistle passage: “If any one thinks he is something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself.” Those who are wise, who fear God and who have understanding will be able to say, without self-recrimination or self-effacement or without destroying one’s proper sense of self-esteem, that, in truth, “I am nothing”. The great Dominican mystic, St Catherine of Siena, told her confessor, Bl. Raymond of Capua that Jesus appeared to St Catherine in a vision and told her: “You are she who is not.” With these words, this wisdom and knowledge imparted by a supernatural grace to her soul, St Catherine was thus given a remedy for pride.

For as Blessed Raymond of Capua went on to say: “Here is a healing remedy, for what wound of pride can enter into a soul that knows itself to be nothing? Who can glory in anything he does? And thus, all vices are driven out by the words, “You are not”. Then, Bl. Raymond adds: “Here too are many anxieties diminished. For, [as Blessed Raymond says] “whenever I or any of the other friars was afraid of any danger, Catherine would say, “What have you to do with yourselves? Leave it to Divine Providence. However much afraid you are, Providence still has his eyes on you and is always aiming at your salvation.”

This, my friends, is saintly wisdom, given from on high by the Holy Spirit. For many in our age are rapt in pride, and they do not even know it. Many people, for example, appear anxious to save the world, or to save the planet and its environment, or to save the Church, and their anxieties arise not because these causes are not worthy of our attention and care, but because they vaingloriously think that the salvation of the Church, of the world, of other people depends on them and their particular action, and so they become activists and campaigners, and they anxiously can think that the outcome depends on them. But St Catherine and Holy Scripture suggests that this is precisely the dangerous hidden deception of pride: to think that I myself am a saviour. But I am he who is not. So, “look to yourself” says St Paul. “Leave it to Divine Providence” says St Catherine. Hence today’s epistle says: “Let us do good to all men, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.” Our spirit of meekness and gentleness towards our fellow Christians, therefore, overflows into benevolence for all people but especially for those who are also baptised into the true Faith, into the life of grace in Jesus Christ.

Sadly, many interactions among us Christians and particularly between Catholics on social media cannot be said by onlookers to be benevolent or gentle or meek in spirit, and this is true even when the comments are directed towards the Holy Father, the Vicar of Christ! Earlier in his letter to the Galatians, before he lists the fruits of the Holy Spirit, St Paul lists the “works of the flesh”. Among them are “anger… dissension, party spirit” (cf Gal 5:20) – a better translation for the latter might be something like tribalism – and I think one has to honestly and prayerfully reflect on how we behave online, how we speak to one another and about one another, and then ask ourselves: do I exhibit the works of the flesh or the fruits of the Holy Spirit. “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control”, says St Paul (Gal 5:22-23).

Now, don’t get me wrong: sometimes we do need to fight for what is right, and to make a stand for the vulnerable as we did at the March for Life yesterday. Where sin abounds, we should do what we can in justice and in charity to stop it. However, we must do so in all humility, with gentleness and meekness, without judging and condemning the other, because we know that but for the grace of God, we too would and could and often do fall. For as Our Lord says: “Without me you can do nothing.” (Jn 15:5). Indeed, without God, we are nothing, and can do no good.

Therefore, St Paul declared to the Corinthians: “God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, whom God made our wisdom, our righteousness and sanctification and redemption; therefore, as it is written, ‘Let him who boasts, boast of the Lord.’” (1 Cor 1:28-31) So, let us always first look to ourselves in order that in all things we keep looking to the Lord!

#virtue #gentleness #discipleship #mansuetudo #fruits of the holy spirit #meekness #mildness #Twitter mob

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foxofthedesert · 3 years

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So I just finished my 3rd watch thru of Merlin, and yet again am brokenhearted. Not only by Arthur's death and Merlin's grief, but by Morgana's tragic descent into madness. Though I loathed the choice, I always understood why the writers went the direction they did with Morgana. What I did not understand was the way they handled her relationship with Gwen. It just never made any sense to me that Morgana could be so cruel to someone she clearly loved very deeply - even if only in the platonic sense. To me, it seemed like the Morgana that existed at the end of season 2 was replaced by a totally different, inexplicably cruel and insufferably smirky one by the start of season 3.

Still, prophecies need fulfilled and such, and after all it is a fantasy series based on a complicated mythology where Morgana sometimes is portrayed as evil. I just wish it was handled better.

Be that as it may, as a writer I tend to gravitate toward the untold stories within canon. That being the case, Gwen and Morgana's relationship is a natural attraction. I adore their chemistry, which makes them so easy to pair up. Since I am also not necessarily beholden to canon, that means I can imagine whatever the hell I want for them. Such an AU where their potential is realized before Morgause enters the picture to warp Morgana into her father's daughter.

This little piece is part of that. I may or may not add more entries in the future.

As a side note, this was initially supposed to be much shorter, but my fingers wouldn't stop typing words. Silly digits.

Ficlet below the line!

Morgana awoke giggling in an entirely unrefined manner. Her uncharacteristic bubbly mirth, she discovered, was due to a gentle tickling sensation all across her face. Once the wispy haze of sleep was blinked out of her blurry eyes, a familiar shape resolved into an entirely too handsome face wearing such a love-sick expression that her chest reflexively suffused with an affectionate warmth that quickly seeped into her very bones.

“What time is it?” she asked to the person hovering above her, voice still gravelly and slightly slurred from having been roused out of such a deep, blessedly dreamless repose. The pleasant tickling sensation began anew immediately after her half-slurred inquiry, and when she lifted her gaze she was greeted by rich brown eyes she would swear on her life she could live and die in.

“Just after dawn.” The utterly enchanting creature paying her such lovely attention continued to delicately and reverently brush calloused fingertips across the expanse of her jaw. “Sorry I woke you. I meant to let you sleep in a bit longer, I just really couldn’t help myself.”

A pause allowed a full, dusky lip to be pulled rather invitingly between pearly white teeth before her beloved added, “It seems I never can where you are concerned.”

Morgana smiled. A genuine smile, too. Nothing like the false ones she graced her guardian with, full of barely suppressed loathing and rage. Lately she had been consumed by disgust for the man who so many times proclaimed to cherish her, a man who would see her burnt at the stake if he knew who she truly was. Uther Pendragon claimed to be a fair and just king, yet he waged unlawful wars against territories that dared stand up against his brutish rule and relentlessly persecuted innocents whose only crime was to be born different. People like her. People with magic.

Coming to terms with her gifts had cost Morgana both countless nights spent in wakeful torment over horrific visions that plagued her dreams and untold days spent wrestling with throat-clogging anxiety over the possibility of discovery. There were many occasions during that frightening period in which she felt as though tottering precariously over a dark, abyssal chasm at the bottom of which lie only inescapable madness. Every second spent at court was an exhausting exercise in choking down a nauseating terror of the tyrant who held the power of life and death over her and would surely decide upon the latter should he learn the truth about her magic. Meals were a unique form of torture due to the perpetual knot residing in her stomach and every event she would normally revel in was transformed into a dreaded affair during which she could scarcely breathe for the crushing weight resting upon her chest.

Frankly, if it hadn’t been for Guinevere and Merlin she is sure she would have already plummeted headlong into those foreboding depths, right into the waiting arms of a hatred no human heart could withstand without incurring irreparable damage.

If Merlin hadn’t told her the truth about his magic as he lead her to Aglain’s druid camp, the pervasive sense of isolation and desperation worming insidiously through her mind would have inevitably forced her into drastic choices. Even before her magic manifested she had silently nursed treasonous thoughts toward Camelot’s cruel monarch. What might she have done if the walls closed in so tightly on her she felt there was no avenue of escape outside of acting upon those unsavory impulses? It hardly bears thinking about for risk of inviting such evil desires back in to her heart when of all her attributes, it is her heart which makes her most special – or at least that is what Guinevere insists to be the case.

Thankfully, finding a steadfast friend and ally in Merlin had done much to ameliorate the suffocating feeling of helplessness she felt as a member of the court harboring so deadly a secret. With much diligence and patience he was teaching her to control her powers, to harness them for good, and to have faith that better days were ahead for their kind. It was also mostly due to the Merlin’s deceptive wisdom and boundless optimism – and to be fair what reasonable person could resist that impish, dimpled smile? – that she began to view Arthur through a fresh lens.

If she bothered to look deeply, as Merlin insisted, to ignore the chauvinistic bravado and infuriating superiority complex, it was not difficult to recognize Arthur’s innate nobility and compassion that existed despite his monstrous father. And seeing as Merlin was as stubborn as he was convincing, it did not take long for Morgana to accept with a cautiously hopeful heart that with the aid of loyal friends, Arthur had it in him to become to the greatest sovereign Camelot had ever seen, a king who might actually prove himself worthy of the people both common and magical to whom he would be sworn to serve. Of course, she and Arthur still had their mundane squabbles and butted heads frequently over political and legal matters, but in the months since Merlin began her training, Morgana had acquired a new appreciation for the young man who was to her as good as a sibling.

As much as Merlin had done for her, however, it paled in comparison to Gwen’s contributions to her health and happiness.

For as long as Morgana had known Gwen she had held the blacksmith’s daughter in esteem far higher than any Lady should their maidservant. What started out as mutual respect born from shared grief over the loss of a parent soon flowered into genuine friendship. For many years they were the best of friends, each providing for the other a refuge from the storms of life and a confidante more reliable and wise and loyal than could be hired with all of Midas’ gold.

By the time Morgana entered womanhood, her fondness for Gwen had only swelled to become boundless as it was profound. In her eyes, Gwen was the most wonderful person in all the world; none could hope to be her equal in breathtaking beauty, charitable kindness, seemingly endless stores of patience, altogether praiseworthy meekness, a silent strength surpassing steel, or in nearly saintly levels of graciousness. Gwen was the unfailing light to Morgana’s rapidly encroaching darkness, the quickening sun to her deathly pale moon, the Aurora to her Luna. She neither trusted any more deeply as she did Gwen, nor did she desire the company of another so keenly. As a result, they were rarely parted until retiring for bed, and then only by necessity of station. So inextricably attached were they Gwen’s friends often jested that she must have accidentally stitched herself to her lady’s garments at the hip. The noblewomen were not nearly so kind. Some of the more prominent Ladies in the castle questioned the innocence of their arrangement, going so far as to exchange idle speculation which painted them as clandestine devotees of Sappho.

If Morgana could be bothered to care about the rumors, she would have confronted the useless busybodies long ago. But quite frankly, their opinions on her relationship with Gwen mattered for naught seeing as Arthur dismissed them as absurd upon reaching his ears and, beyond even that, Morgana would rather die than provide the snide gossipers ammunition that might serve as tacit confirmation that their unwelcome conjecture was not without merit – which was in fact the case.

All the same, though, she took great pains to prevent them from reaching the ears of the king. Uther already disapproved of their unusual bond and reminded her of such every time she treated Gwen with an ounce of basic human dignity while in his presence. Rather than censure the prejudice as she might have no long ago, Morgana now bore the chastisement with pride. Were it required, she would gladly wear forty stripes upon her skin if that be the price of Gwen’s love. The haughty bigotry of her guardian could never dissuade her from the path her heart had chosen to travel. Gwen was far too precious to ever surrender without a fight, to death if she must.

For what felt like ages, Morgana had believed her feelings would never be reciprocated. And that was perfectly acceptable to her, so long as Gwen remained an integral part of her life. The constant yearning that caused her chest to ache, sometimes almost painfully, was something she could endure so long as Gwen was happy.

That perspective radically transformed the night Gwen’s father died.

The midnight bells sounded in the citadel as Morgana slipped out into the upper town. Her intentions were pure at the time. She had only meant to visit her friend and offer what support she could, no matter the reckless impropriety of her visiting the her maidservant’s home so late at night. Instead, one glimpse of Gwen’s devastation over the pointless tragedy reignited her rage. All too quickly it boiled over, allowing those old, bitter feelings to spill out as impetuous threats of vengeance, and not only on Gwen’s behalf but for all those wronged by the merciless hand of Uther Pendragon. For what felt like hours she railed, heedless of the effect her malicious speech was having on the distraught girl she was supposed to be comforting.

It was only when Gwen – sweet Gwen, kind and thoughtful and selfless to a fault – had been pushed to her limits that Morgana’s perilous vitriol was interrupted.

Casting aside station, Gwen grasped her by the face and made her swear to never utter such dangerous words again.

“My brother has already abandoned me and now both my parents are dead,” Gwen had said, lips quivering and cheeks stained by tears. “I can’t lose you, too. I can’t. I won’t survive it.”

“Of course you would, Gwen. You��re the strongest person I know,” Morgana had replied, grasping reflexively at lean wrists, Gwen’s hands having migrated to the back of Morgana’s neck, thumbs cupped round the front of her ears. It was the first time she had been embraced so intimately, and if it weren’t for her anger she most certainly would have shivered with excitement at the surprisingly welcome contact.

“I’m not,” Gwen had half-sobbed, voice hoarse from hours surrendered to grief. “I’m only standing at all right now because the person I love most in all the world is here with me.”

Morgana hadn’t understood the nature of that declaration at first. Not until Gwen tucked her lip between her teeth, her nostrils flared with what could not be misinterpreted as anything but raw want, and her eyes went impossibly dark. A sharp gasp of realization was all Morgana could manage as a response, so stunned was she that her most secretive and treasured wish was being fulfilled.

But when Gwen nodded, chest heaving with emotion, despair and fear warring with adoration in her eyes, Morgana could no longer contain herself. Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle fused together, revealing the explanation as to why a simple smile from Gwen was able to chase away the storm clouds gathering above her head, or why Gwen’s chiming laughter kicked up butterflies in her stomach and a captivating warmth in her chest, or why even the most airy of touches from Gwen left a wake of goose-flesh in her skin. It wasn’t just love. It was destiny.

In retrospect, Morgana probably should have been as if not more terrified of crossing that final, socially forbidden line between mistress and servant, friend and lover, than she was of being magical. The thing of it was, the only relevant factors in that moment was Gwen willingly offering of herself more than she probably should and Morgana being selfish enough to accept.

They made love that night beneath Gwen’s threadbare sheets, and it was glorious, just as Morgana had imagined it would be.

All of their sorrows and anxieties and animosities drifted away like dandelion seeds upon a crisp summer breeze. Cliches regarding such unions suddenly made sense. Somewhere along the journey that began by laving the stiffened peak of a pert breast then languidly progressed into nestling her face into the delicate, aromatic flower situated between smooth bronze legs, she lost all sense of self. It was as if with each bruising kiss, playful nibble, and greedy draw with open mouth, she and Gwen were merging into one being. Gwen’s throaty noises and keening pleas reverberated through her every muscle fiber, down even into the very marrow of her bones. Gwen’s intoxicating flavor permeated her senses until it was all she could taste or smell. And Gwen’s gratification became hers as her hand slipped beneath her ridiculously extravagant undergarments to relieve the desperate pressure upon a mound so slick with arousal that the sound of her feverish rubbing was positively obscene.

Mere heartbeats after Gwen went taut with a silent scream, stars exploded behind Morgana’s eyes as the most exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain engulfed her mind and set her nether regions aflame. Spent and unable to control her trembling limbs, she collapsed across Gwen’s heaving chest. Strong arms immediately wrapped around underneath her arms to pull her in tight, and as she buried her nose in the damp curls at Gwen’s neck, all she could do was weep, utterly overcome by an unspeakable joy she understood without needing to ask was fully mutual. They fell asleep like that, Morgana stretched across Gwen, encased in an embrace that felt like a subconscious announcement of a claim upon her, heart and soul and body, something she not only welcomed but reveled in.

Wonderful thoughts about publicly belonging to Gwen lulled Morgana into a peaceful sleep that went markedly undisturbed.

In the pale light of morning she was still so drunken upon pure, heady, all consuming bliss to realize she would be missed if she did make an appearance in the castle. Had Gwen not pointed that out, she would have been more than glad to spend the entire day wrapped around her new lover, discovering every last spot that made Gwen’s toes curl ‘til the girl was too exhausted to move the tiniest muscle.

Alas, the constraints of reality marshaled both of them to action, and so once they had dressed, they sneaked carefully into the castle by auxiliary corridors during the changing of the guard. By only the slimmest of margins, they slipped into her chambers just as the fresh patrol rounded the corner in their direction. Once inside, the thrill of the close call and euphoria over their consummated love invigorated Morgana into a passion she could not ignore. Overcome by a need – more like an almost maddening hunger really – to touch, smell, and taste every delicious inch of the skin she had feasted upon last night, she unceremoniously dragged a breathless, ruddy cheeked Gwen straight over to her bed.

After that thorough christening, they lingered together in a tangle of limbs, both sated and happy. At least until the sound of Camelot’s awakening resounded through the chambers from the courtyard below and with it the first doubts crept in. Morgana could recall the subsequent conversation as though it had just happened.

***************

“I should see to my duties directly,” Gwen had said, immediately rustling to exit the bed upon hearing Arthur’s booming voice rattle down the hallway, clearly a response to the latest in an endless string of mistakes by his loyal yet tragically clumsy manservant.

Morgana hadn’t wanted to turn loose quite yet, so she tightened hold around Gwen’s waist, halting the undesired escape.

“They can wait,” she replied between leisurely kisses trailed up a shapely arm. “The laundry isn’t going anywhere, nor is the evening gown that needs mending. Stay with me a while longer.” She paused to nuzzle into Gwen’s shoulder. “Stay with me forever.”

Rather than struggle, Gwen melted the embrace. “You know that is all I wish for. I love you, Morgana. More than anything. But…”

“But what?”

“What if someone catches us?”

Morgana scoffed, having missed the long term nature of the question in addition to the concern pouring off of Gwen in waves she should not have missed. It was not her finest moment. She hadn’t meant to be insensitive, though. The idea had just seemed so preposterous at the time because she had thought Gwen was only speaking about the present.

“Who would be so bold as to enter my chambers without permission?” she had said. “Not even Uther at his most disrespectful would dare venture such a trespass. We are entirely safe here. No need to worry your pretty head.”

Gwen shifted in Morgana’s arms then so that they were face to face. “I do, though. Worry that is. And I have to ask: why aren’t you?”

“Why should I be? For that matter why should you be?” Morgana replied. And then she met Gwen’s eyes. Large, and impossibly dark, and unmistakably upset.

All of the sudden it was impossible for Morgana to ignore how frightened Gwen really was. In response, her stomach twisted almost painfully and her heart fell as the happy bubble she had been floating in abruptly burst.

What in all the world, she wondered in a moment of regrettable obliviousness, had Gwen afraid of them being caught? Her brow furrowed as deeply as it ever had as she mulled around potential causes.

Certainly they were going to have to be careful in the future to avoid exposure, she reckoned, but Gwen was as fully cognizant that there were more perilous secrets both were currently keeping. Morgana’s ability to pull the wool over Uther’s eyes was well established, and no one else besides the two of them had unfettered access to her chambers. Besides all that, Morgana knew every nook and cranny of the citadel and was able to slip out and into the upper town undetected at will, of which Gwen was also very well aware. So there had to be more to it. But what?

Only one other possibility occurred to her, and it was the one she least wanted to entertain. And yet...

“Unless you regret what has transpired between us?” she asked at length, unable to disguise her own fear, which manifested through a faint trembling in her voice. “No!” Shaking her head fervently, Gwen grasped Morgana’s face much as she did the night before. “Not even for a second. I’ve lost so much, and I have much to regret, but not this. This is the best thing to ever happen to me. I just…”

Again Gwen trailed off, her hands retreating to clasp together against her mouth. And although Morgana’s anxiety had quieted with Gwen’s reassurance, there was clearly something still bothering her.

“Just what?” Morgana prompted, then reached out to stroke Gwen’s hair. “I hate seeing you so twisted up. Tell me. Please.”

A single, contrite nibble of a kiss-stung lip later, Gwen averted her eyes and gave her answer, “Don’t you wonder, even just for a second in the back of your mind, if what we did was wrong?”

Morgana very nearly sighed in relief. This was a problem she could easily remedy, as it was a one she had wrestled with for years only for Merlin’s simple yet profound worldview to unexpectedly resolve.

During the incident where Gwen was accused of using sorcery to heal her father, he had stumbled upon Morgana beside herself after a visit to Gwen’s cell. In her anxiety and grief she had confessed to having feelings for her handmaiden that although unseemly nonetheless had taken hold of her. Where she had expected disgust, she was instead given only understanding and compassion. In that endearingly provincial way of his, Merlin ensured her that love – if true and pure and unselfish, which he insisted hers for Gwen surely was – could never be wrong.

Morgana had felt something turn loose inside her at Merlin’s easy acceptance, as if her heart had been tied into a knot being slowly and perpetually tightened. Breathing became a relief once again. And as she learned to accept herself the way Merlin did, she began to hope that perhaps one day in the future a door would open for her to act upon her feelings without destroying what she and Gwen already shared. She could not have anticipated Tom’s death being the impetus for her to do so. Yet as awful as his tragic death was, it birthed something so infinitely precious that Morgana would never cease being grateful. And if only for the memory of that kind, thoughtful, patient man, she would never stop fighting for the love she shared with her beloved Guinevere.

“Gwen,” she had said, unsuccessfully vying for her conflicted love’s attention. Twice more she called Gwen’s name, and after receiving no response pushed up slightly on her elbow. “Look at me, Guinevere.” When large, uncertain eyes, brimming with tears, met hers, she leaned over so that she could press her forehead against Gwen’s. “We have done nothing wrong. Do you hear me? If you trust me, if you love me as you assert to, believe me when I say this. Something so wonderful and beautiful and perfect could never be anything less than rightly divine.”

***************

That phrase that swiftly became Morgana’s favorite answer to Gwen’s occasional concerns. The world at large, and most definitely those housed within the vaunted halls of Camelot’s citadel, would most certainly view their relationship as wicked and immoral and perverse. If that was indeed the case, Morgana did not believe she ever wanted to be either innocent or righteous. Their love was wonderful, and beautiful, and perfectly divine; an immutable fact which Morgana was determined to never allow either of them to forget.

No doubt lurked within Gwen’s eyes this morning, however, only unadulterated affection. And that made Morgana exceedingly joyful indeed.

“I understand what you mean,” Morgana at last said after escaping that precious memory. She sighed contentedly and shuttered her eyelids as yet another reverent brush of fingers smoothed along the crest of her chin. And while the diligent attention felt incredible, she grew increasingly curious why Gwen’s focus appeared to have narrowly fixated on that one specific region of her face.

“What’s the matter?” Gwen said after a bit of easy silence.

“What makes you think something’s the matter?” Morgana replied, still basking in the glow of Gwen’s magical touch.

“You have that telltale crease between your brow which means something is bothering you.”

This time Morgana opened her eyes. “I’m not bothered, merely at a loss as to why you suddenly find my chin so hypnotizing.”

Gwen sucked at her lip momentarily as if weighing whether to answer before a crooked smile bloomed across her handsome features.

“Well, not just your chin, but if you must know it’s all these little hairs…” And then she stroked Morgana’s chin again, this time allowing her fingers to feather over said hairs all the way down her jawline.

“Are you saying my face is hairy, Gwen?” Morgana asked, frowning as a thread of hurt pulled taut.

As should be obvious, she didn’t appreciate it pointed out that her alabaster skin failed to conceal what otherwise would have been a nearly invisible coat of fine hairs that covered all humans male and female alike. Arthur teased her about it relentlessly when she was a blossoming teenager, and even now some of the noble ladies who envied her would snidely comment upon how it clearly indicated that she was a witch destined for a life of barren unhappiness.

Up til now, Gwen had made no mention of that peculiar feature and Morgana would be lying if she claimed she wasn’t wounded that it would be brought up only now that they were in an intimate situation.

“No!” Gwen’s eyes went wide as the full moon. “No, not at all! I mean...well, yes, it sort of is.” A huffed breath of remorse followed Morgana’s gasp of offense. “Not that it’s a bad thing! I swear I meant no insult. I have some too, after all. It’s just less visible because of my skin tone probably. And don’t worry! It’s nothing like Lady Johanna’s fledgling beard. Not even close. On the contrary, they’re so tiny and delicate and wispy and soft, and I really am utterly obsessed with them because they are part of you and you are perfect, so they are also perfect by extension, and I just can’t get over how adorable they are, and I am currently babbling like a lunatic with zero manners. I am so sorry, milady.”

At the end of that adorable ramble, Gwen’s shoulders hunched in as her cheeks darkened and she yet again sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Any insult Morgana felt evaporated as quickly as it formed. How could she be upset with such an enchanting creature?

Reaching across Gwen’s waist, she pulled her abashed lover down until they were flush, skin to skin from shoulders to hips.

“Oh, Gwen, there is nothing to be sorry for,” she said, legs instinctively parting as Gwen’s familiar weight settled against her. “My reaction is habit, I’m afraid, due to Arthur’s derisive mocking. It’s actually quite nice to hear a compliment for a change.”

“Are you sure you’re not cross with me? I’d understand if you were…”

No one with a functioning soul could be cross with those doe eyes staring at them, Morgana decided. She danced her fingers with lighthearted mirth across Gwen’s cheeks and over the ridge of her nose.

“Nonsense, sweetling. It’s no different than me admiring your freckles.”

Gwen’s features relaxed into a flattered smile. “You like my freckles?”

“Like them? I love them! How could I not? It’s like you said, they are a part of you, and you are perfect, therefore they are perfect by extension.”

In response, Gwen gave her an appreciative little smile before arresting her hand to place a kiss upon the inside of her wrist.

“So you won’t mind to be awakened like that again should I fail to curb my weird fascination?”

“Only if you won’t should I wake you by mapping the stars written across your cheeks,” Morgana said, then returned Gwen’s tactile affection with some of her own by again acting out her words with her own fingers. She was pleased when Gwen leaned in to the touch.

“I promise I won’t. I think I’d quite fancy that, actually.”

“Then I promise, too. And if you’re a good girl today, perhaps I will indulge your fancy tomorrow morning.”

“Well, then, I’d better get to work, hadn’t I?”

Eyes flashing with eager anticipation, Gwen threw the covers aside and made to get out of bed – a development Morgana was not prepared to authorize. Not only was she of a mind to lounge abed and cuddle away another hour or two, all of Camelot was blanketed in snow and she was loathe to be deprived of Gwen’s heavenly body...heat.

“Now, now,” Morgana tugged at Gwen, almost desperate with a need to curl right back into Gwen’s warmth and never move again while hoping she sounded at least somewhat the dignified noblewoman she was supposed to be. “Don’t be so hasty. Have you forgotten yourself and your duties to your lady? I haven’t yet had my good morning kiss.”

Gwen tumbled back into bed giggling merrily. “For shame! I have failed my lady most unforgivably. I shall rectify the trespass immediately.”

“See that you do, Guinevere, and promptly,” Morgana said, her eyes twinkling as her own merriment curved her lips into a smile. “As you know, your lady does not appreciate being made to wait.”

After a deliberately silly half-curtsy, Gwen draped herself across Morgana’s body, and once settled whispered her reply against Morgana’s already tingling lips.

“My lady’s wish is my command.”

The brief peck that followed was not enough for Morgana. Fingers winding into dark curls, she pulled Gwen into a much more passionate kiss, which lead to another, and another, until the embrace quickly evolved into tangling tongues and undulating hips. Soon enough, Gwen’s head was disappearing beneath the sheets and Morgana was having to recall how to breathe due to the magnificently excruciating pleasure coursing through her loins.

And that was how she came to be late for her first appointment of the morning, where she was relentlessly lectured about the importance of punctuality over manchet, eggs, sausage, and apples sprinkled with cinnamon. It was worth it, though. Her giddy grin throughout breakfast only made Arthur more bewildered and Uther more angry.

#bbc merlin #gwen #morgana #morgwen

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thedemonstherapist · 3 years

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hello friend!! thanks for your patience with this i really appreciate it 💜 here's stuff about me!

Likes: bunnies, chilly breezes, naps with my partner, chats with my bestie, getting to go home from work on time, learning new things, the colors purple pink and blue, stuffed animals, dancing, the moon, cooking for others, others cooking for me, being invited to things even if i can't go, solvable problems, clear instructions

Dislikes: hot weather, feeling sweaty, dust and how it gets on everything, same for sand, when someone tells me something i was gonna do anyway so now i don't want to, when shirts are too small in the arms but fit everywhere else, feeling disoriented after a sleep, when people think an animal behavior is cute without caring that it might be a stress response or bad for the animal, wasabi peas

I'm a Gemini sun, Scorpio moon, Sagittarius rising, but it's not super important to me, I just read astrology for fun. I really like my data entry job because I know more or less what each day looks like, but there's enough variation to keep it interesting. I'm occasionally forgetful and I'm trying to work on that. I have a lot of crafty hobbies that I pick up and drop occasionally. I can sleep anywhere. Every night I tell my bestie and my partner good night with "good night noodle" and "good night my love" respectively. My gender is best described as "no gender, left bisexual". I refuse to have guilty pleasures in that I refuse to feel bad for something I enjoy. Sometimes I feel like my attempts to communicate clearly by being as specific as possible backfire because instead of making things clear, it makes things too complicated. My goals in life are to be nice and have fun.

Thaaaaaat's all I can think of! Thanks again my friend!!

⋆｡⋆˚Benign Favour.⋆｡⋆

“To win a creature's trust shows grace and patience. To keep their favour is a task that can only be accomplished by even deeper compassion and an inherently kind soul” is a sentence that has stuck to your very core since childhood. As a WATATSUMI ISLAND native, you grew up around the sea, constantly surrounded by magical beings and a mystical, enchanted environment. It is only natural that this fuelled your curiosity towards all forms of life upon this continent, a curiosity that has long since carried over into adulthood.

Now, as an accomplished veterinarian and researcher, you reside in FONTAINE, in one of the smaller communities on the outskirts of the big city. Your day consists of treating new and old patients with endless diligence and kindness, from common pets like cats and dogs to wildlife that gets brought in or brings itself through the doors in search of your help and healing. There is variety in your day to day, but exceedingly rarely can something throw you out of balance and leave you stunted, but even then, you always find a solution in the end. Your small clinic is an overgrown older house, one that used to be a florist shop and whose garden doubles as a small rehabilitation area for any long-term patients. You have helpers, of course, so you can always rest assured when you close for the day and head home to your family that health and safety are guaranteed in your off-time.

A green DENDRO VISION glows at your hip and assists you with your work. Wisdom comes in many forms, and one of them is exceptional emotional intelligence. The day you won the Gods favour is one that should have been one of many - a simple stroll on your way towards town during your years in training caused you to come across a heavily wounded creature making weeping sounds of distress, one that was of no recognition to you. Nevertheless, you crouched down and began to do what you could with limited supplies. It was a fight for their life, and you worked tirelessly, determined to save what you would later realise was a previously undiscovered type of dragon. By the time its breath had become regular, hours and hours into the day, you reached down and your fingers first brushed the cool surface of your vision.

You had learned to fight before, long ago, during your time in your homeland. The POLEARM was the traditional weapon of Inazuma, though yours took a more unorthodox form. More comparable to a scythe, its curved blade in your experienced hand cuts through trouble with ease. You rarely use it for anything but defense, as it comes in handy when you’re gathering wood or herbs in the forest, but your skillful movements pay off when they have to.

Of course, you had to learn to control the elemental energy that had been gifted to you. With help from friends and colleagues, you’d begun to master both the healing and defensive as well as the offensive powers Dendro possessed. NETTLING DEFIANCE causes a quake to run through the earth around you, springing thorns out from under any enemies and causing lasting damage for 5-7 seconds. It has AOE effect and builds a base for your elemental Burst, INCITEMENT OF MERCY. This has a healing effect on any ally in the proximity, one that is lasting and regenerates HP for about 45 Seconds, as well as dealing increased elemental damage to any enemy struck during the 25 Seconds following usage.

As mentioned, you are not the only person on your path of life. You are lucky to count the brilliant and compassionate SANGONOMIYA KOKOMI to your close friends from childhood and always make time for her during your visits back home. Another person that has won your kind heart is the sweet and energetic XIANGLING, with whom you can show a different side of yourself in the kitchen and who always pushes you to try new things.

The Veterinary Clinic you run has truly become a sanctuary for many in need, and your gentle character is truly the right one to guide it. Flowers in your hair and a bunny in your arms, you’re greeted with waves and chirps of pleasure, whether on your way to work or home. After a long day you can look forward to rest and relaxation, dinner under moonlight and good company, secure in your future and knowing what to expect from tomorrow. And with healing hands gliding over scales, feathers, fur and occasionally, even skin, you make an impact each and every day, often, just with a joke and steadyfast reassurance. And those, the things that make the most difference, are ones you have never needed the Gods favour to accomplish.

#revival celebration #rebs my darling!!#I hope you like it!#I spent so long on it because I tried SO HARD #love you muaw #lily writes #my lovely mutuals

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vidalinav · 4 years

Text

Queen of Monsters: Chapter 3

Chapter summary: Nesta worms her way into the infirmaries and friendships are started.

I don't even know what to say right now because you know the state of the U.S. is still up in the air but (shrugs) happy reading I guess!

Chapter List, Masterlist

“You’re going to catch a cold, if you keep coming here looking like a wet dog,” the Illyrian said, raising a brow. “And I don’t treat animals.”

Nesta merely lifted her head in greeting, not at all concerned with the fiery depths of her glare or the deep, authoritative note of her voice. She’d heard harsher, been harsher than the female in front of her. She’d withstood colder days than this one, too.

“I am here to work.” She repeated and the Illyrian scoffed, rolling her eyes at the phrase she’d heard every day since last. Nesta raised her chin at the challenge.

The Illyrian’s shoulders squared, the brown pelt of fur shifting to reveal a plain shirt tucked into pleats, and Nesta noted the chain around her neck with an emblem to match. The necklace decorated in obsidian beads.

“I have no job for you here.”

“Then I’ll wait.” She said, leaning against the tent walls, already prepared with a book in her hand.

The female sniffed and Nesta gripped the book harder. Her knuckles tight against the pages even if she didn’t so much as grimace.

She knew that look. The prideful nonchalance. The I am better than you turn of her lips. Arrogance and conceit. It reminded her of her mother. That stern look that made Nesta remember wanting her room, her door ready to hide her behind its wood, behind the slam of its hinges. Such comforting, familiar anxiety. Nesta wished she had the talent to capture the look, even envied Feyre for her skill to keep memories on canvas and across frames.

Her wings painted the morning in crisp amber veins, and the female seemed to grow taller right before her eyes. Nesta's temper rose to the occasion as she took a step forward.

Her mother always did say her worst trait was that she was stubborn. If Nesta didn’t want the porridge, she wouldn’t eat it, no matter how many times the maids put it in front of her. If she didn’t want to learn to waltz, she would sit on the foyer, crossing her arms, and not even the prospects of extra dessert or the lure of new toys would make her get up from the ground.

Nesta’s father on the other hand had laughed. Her antics reminding him of successful business deals across the sea. This was her best trait, he’d said, because he worked with others less headstrong than her and only, she could come out with an outcome so lucrative. When he had told her this, Nesta had made it a point to be as stubborn as possible.

So, Nesta did not back down even if the female pointedly glared, huffing in annoyance as Nesta refused to leave from her idle threats. She merely walked through the tent flaps, wisps of her dark hair flying behind, untucked from her scarf.

Nesta resumed her position leaning against the green material and began reading once more. Suddenly lost in dreams of ships going out to sea and porridge getting colder.

The infirmary was run by an Illyrian named Ira, Nesta learned. She had hailed from Dunravar, on the coast of the Great Sea and moved to Windhaven when her sister had married. And she had always been like that—no nonsense and just a tad crass.

“I was scared of her when I was young.” Emerie spoke. “Her long witchy fingers, the pointed nose. She’d poke and prod at me and I was certain she was feeling how tender I was so she could cook me later.”

Nesta sighed, resting her chin in her palm. “Whether she’s scary or not, I still want to work there.”

But the look Emerie gave her did not fill her with confidence.

Nesta couldn’t say she was either. She had been sitting outside that tent for weeks and she had yet to be invited inside. The last time she did enter, all she heard were yells from the female about minding her own when she’d inadvertently run in on a rather thorough exam of some war-torn soldier. Nesta didn’t have the patience that day to continue waiting outside.

“Are you still going to the kitchens later?”

She nodded her head, her lips forming a thin line. “Yes, I work in the evenings, now.”

Emerie reached up, dusting the tallest shelf and Nesta couldn’t help but grimace as the flecks of dust sprinkled down on the freshly polished floor.

“And you still have to walk back?” Emerie offered incredulously. “Don’t you think that’s a little bit late for you to work?”

“Why would it be?” Nesta asked, her voice not at all looking for an answer. She’d heard this argument before, and the thought of his voice made her want yell vulgar profanities. So, what if she worked all day? Wasn’t he always complaining that she’d slept all day? Or that she drank all night? It seemed that it didn’t matter what she did, Nesta did everything wrong by his standards, backwards by her sisters’ standards, and thoroughly disgraceful to her sister’s buffoon of friends.

She couldn’t win in any likelihood and so Nesta wouldn’t try. Their approval an impossible task.

“Aren’t you ever afraid of being out at all hours of the night? What if something were to happen to you?”

Nesta snickered, “Like a beast runs out of the forest and eats me.”

“Like a male waits for you to be alone and corners you in some alley.”

Been there, done that, Nesta wanted to say, but she swallowed the remark.

“So, a beast runs out of a tent and eats me? Interesting.”

Emerie jumped down from the chair, stepping towards her as she placed her hands on her hips. The grey feathers still sprinkling dust down and down. Nesta had to resist the urge to kick the trash bin under the brush.

“You should be more careful.” The Illyrian warned sternly. Grumbling as she said, “Why do you even work in the kitchens, it’s not like your obligated to do it?”

Nesta leaned back on the counter, tapping her fingers on the glass.

It was a good question, one Nesta had asked herself many times and one she didn’t think she had the right answer to even now. In the beginning, it had been a moment to get out of the house and in another it was to piss Cassian off, because she’d learned he hated the chores. The obligation of them, and Nesta knew all about obligation. It had been her life for years before it was deemed meaningless women’s work that she shouldn’t be happy to partake in. Not that Nesta ever really did.

“Because one day Lord Devlon had asked why I wasn’t upheld to chores if I lived in this camp and was expected to be treated the same… and Cassian, he had told him I was not like them and I had wondered what he meant by them. By me and... you all. What difference did he see between us?”

“You are not Illyrian.” Emerie stated simply. Suddenly serious and not that female who opened her door and left it wide open the next time, when Nesta pretended she’d lost her gloves. She could see the difference even as Emerie didn’t seem too different before her now. But Nesta could tell.

It was in the eyes, she thought, and Nesta wondered what it all meant to be looked at like that. With bright, furious eyes.

“Does that matter?” She asked lightly.

“It matters to them—to us.” Emerie corrected harshly. “It matters to us because tradition is more important than glory. It is more important than even war though the males are raised to yearn for it and the females to encourage it. Perhaps the males train because that too is a tradition.”

Emerie whipped the duster towards her, pointing it as if it was her finger. The dust sprinkled at her feet, falling like ash and snow and Nesta kicked the dust aside, refusing to be buried under it. She noted the red in her cheeks, the purse of Emerie’s lips. It was a look she’d before in a mirror or two. Something undeniably bitter and angry.

"I say this just in case you believe you can change their minds by being obstinate.”

Nesta huffed a laugh. “Because doing chores is such an honor.” She gestured to the walls, the leather. “And I suppose owning a shop is child’s play. Mother forbid you give it all up now to go boil water and skin tomorrow’s lamb.”

“Many beings here would rather die than give up their ways… Including Ira. She’s one of the oldest beings in this camp. People say she saw Devlon when he was in swaddling.”

Nesta stared at her questioning, wondering for whom Emerie was talking and what exactly she meant by it all.

“A High Fae learning what your kind has always called simple and archaic? If you weren’t standing right in front of me, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I took over this shop, what rightfully belonged to me based on my blood, and still they don’t want to visit. I have every cloth they might need, and no one is at my door. You may think you can go help in the kitchens or wait outside the infirmary at all hours of the day, but... don’t be disappointed if they still don’t let you in.”

Nesta felt the words settle in the pit of her stomach, felt them bubble up as she rose to stand. Emerie crossed her arms and Nesta glared, though she couldn’t say why the words agitated her so swiftly. But it made her nauseous and Nesta did not have time to swallow the bile that had risen up her throat.

“It’s not my fault they don’t want you.” She heard herself say.

Emerie’s gaze turned ferocious. The rims of her eyes turning red, and Nesta wanted to continue. To tell her that she looked equally as likely to cry as she did to attack. But Nesta did not get the chance to say this to the Illyrian whose chest was still heaving, her hands scrunched and shaking.

"Get out.” Emerie spoke. A quiet, stern phrase.

Nesta picked up her coat, as graceful as she could muster, her shoulders still poised and precise. She pretended to wipe the dust off it, though there was none that she could see, and Emerie merely watched her all the way to the door. Some vicious monster in her midst.

Nesta didn’t bother putting on her coat as she left the small shop, as she welcomed the frigid temperatures.

The cold had already become her dearest friend.

Nesta wasn’t sure why she always felt angry when she looked at Cassian. At first, he’d been nothing but a pebble in her shoe—irritating because he brought of things, he knew nothing about. And then, he became someone who made her temper swell into such fine-tuned fury that she’d wanted to scratch out his eyes and feed them to the crows she’d seen pecking away at Elain’s garden.

But somewhere between their cantankerous voices crescendoing into insults and ire, somewhere between all the noise... Cassian had been exciting. Finally, there was someone who could match her blow by blow and wipe it away like dust off an old book. He was in fact as bitter as she was. Even if he did smile and laugh like nothing at all was wrong.

He had cared for her then, promised things she never wanted to hear again, even if she heard those words incessantly. In her nightmares. In her dreams.

And Nesta had liked making him angry. The teasing turn of his lips filled with enough sensuality, she had wanted to reach up and find exactly what those words tasted like coming from his lips. It was fun to see his eyes burn when he looked at her—that look that made him seem to question whether he wanted to push her out the window or wanted to take her to bed. It made her feel... powerful, more so than any of the magic hidden in her veins. More so than even the bitter, rotting hate that allowed her to walk with a crown over her head, though it was indeed made of thorns.

She had gotten used to looking at Cassian, yearning for a glimpse of him. But now...

Now... as she looked him over sitting on the soft grey of the couch, his wings expanding behind as if he’d lounge there for eternity, Nesta could only think that she’d wished he’d suffered more. She didn’t know why she thought of such things, when she laid her body across his. Hadn’t she felt something then? Something other than her veins catching fire. But the thought itched all the way up to her ears, harmonized with the fire’s roar.

Nesta burned with it all, and quite enjoyed the warmth.

Cassian, turning his head to look at her, only wore a solemn face. A look she’d seen plenty.

“You okay?” He breathed.

Nesta didn’t answer his question. She looked at the walls, the shadows forming on the paint as if it oozed out of its crevices. The flames scratching up the wood. And the sound—gnarling animals and who knows what else devouring her whole, chewing on her bones. Emerie had been right to compare beasts and arrogant males.

Here sat one right in front of her. Tall and unknowingly malicious. Hungry, perhaps. Waiting for her to come back so he might just take one bite.

Her eyes scanned him head to toe, her hands bulging into fists, and something in her body snapped awake. Something in her body going, oh that’s right.

I’m here because of you.

Nesta could see her breath puff out before her. What she wouldn’t give to tell her father that she was made of smoke when he always believed she was fire incarnate. Living flames. Always burning. Angry to the core.

She held her palm out, collecting the flakes that settled on her gloves. Each speck of snow completely unaware that it had landed on someone without a home, without a job, and without any meaningful life. How it remained on the leather without melting to get away, Nesta would never know.

She had almost not come to the infirmary that morning, the words of yesterday blurring into tomorrows and she hadn’t gotten much sleep that night. With Emeries gaze still in her mind and Cassian’s... everything else.

It was always like this. It would always be like this, Nesta thought. How she wasn’t used to the disappointment by now, she didn't know. But it was the thought of forever's that made her stomach ache. Her hand pulling at her bodice when it was harder to breathe.

Eternity was a long time to hate oneself. She couldn’t imagine being a hundred, or two, or three, and still be here. Not this place, but in this body. In this head of hers that couldn’t move past yesterday. How she wished to take another one. Another face. Another name. Another being, entirely.

Nesta wondered if perhaps she was still drowning in that cauldron. If she had not actually emerged fae. Maybe she was still being pulled apart in its moving depths. Re-arranged. None of the pieces fitting back together but being stitched sideways and upside down and backwards.

Oh, how Nesta wished she’d only been made backwards. How easy it would be to rip herself open and sew herself correctly. A new name, a new face, a new being entirely.

But Nesta was here.

And though she often felt like she was sinking, the ground was solid as she stepped. The tent green and bright and not the dark, unknown parts of a world she could not hide from. Her toes might have been blue from where the snow seeped into her boots, but Nesta was not being grabbed by the feet, dragged further and further down.

This place was familiar.

Familiar she could handle. The sky a hue of blue with a single streak of orange? Nesta had seen that before. The tent flaps parted at the seams, Nesta recognized. But it was the light of the tent that had Nesta pacing forward. A sudden drop in her stomach that said she was late, late, late.

Ira must have been there already.

Nesta’s shoulders sunk at the thought.

This was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to stand beside the entrance way, a book at the ready and a stubborn expression permanently painted on her face. Ira was supposed to give her a glare, followed by a snarky reply. Nesta would tell her she wanted to work, and Ira would tell her no. Just like every other day she had done this. A comfortable and familiar routine.

Ira was not supposed to get there before her, and Nesta cursed herself for not coming in early, for not anticipating the move of her opponent.

Ira had won this game, Nesta thought, for catching her by surprise.

She looked towards that spot, the spot she’d proclaimed as her own for how often she’d been there. Nesta expected to find it empty. The space eerily cold without her body to fill it, but when her gaze crossed the premises, a stool had taken her place.

Nesta rushed to greet it, her face warming in the frigid air.

Sure enough, a stool marked her position, and she wondered if Ira had put it there to stave her off. If you will stand, you will not stand here, she could imagine her saying with that twisted smirk. Her long fingers tapping away any chances of her being welcomed inside.

But as a stool stood there, so did a book. The leather a deep shade of charcoal.

Nesta picked it up, feeling the symbol etched into the surface, trying to make out a title in a language she couldn’t read. She could hear the bustle coming from inside the tent, but Nesta didn’t care to go inside. She plopped on the stool instead, her own book forgotten as she shoved her bag to the floor.

Nesta flipped through the book, flowers blooming in every page. She traced her hand on the etchings and imagined the unknown words planting themselves like seeds in her mind. Growing such deep roots that Nesta could hear them being whispered in her ears. The language soothed a wound that Nesta could only bandage up, and where a fire once raged, having only left smoldering ash, wildflowers sprung from the dirt.

Try again, the words said.

Emerie’s brows crinkled like crumbled paper and Nesta’s words were tossed to the ground in littered thoughts. She didn’t know what to say to the female who stood on the steps leading down from her room. Her hair tucked into a braid; a simple apron tied at her waist. Emerie didn’t say anything, either. For all intents, they could have been frozen there. The mountainous winds finally catching up with the frigid winter skies.

“I was in the area.” Nesta began, cursing at herself for sounding so odd to her ears.

Emerie only nodded, “Alright…”

Nesta looked towards the book in her hands, some part of her already dreading the idea that Emerie knew more than her. She knew that Nesta had not just walked by. She knew that she was unable to stay away, that she had enjoyed her company even if she wanted to forget it all.

And forget it all, she tried.

The emblem at the front depicted a sickle, the weapon carving away at a plant she couldn’t name growing from the leather. She held it up for Emerie to see.

“I was wondering if you could help me with this.” She spoke, sliding it across the counter as Emerie caught it with little effort.

The Illyrian flipped through the pages, her hands grazing against each picture as if she were in the forest herself, picking them stem by stem. Nesta had done the same, such a mirrored image that she couldn’t help imagining a world where she had met this female earlier. When she’d not been so disastrous and had wanted someone to talk to, to laugh with.

But Nesta knew... There had never been a time like that. She had never been soft.

“What language is it?” Nesta asked in spite of wandering thoughts. For she had not seen such a language before. The letters curving into loops and lines. Such beautiful print for how harsh Illyrians seemed to her.

“It’s called Divumar.” Emerie replied, shutting the book with a thump and passing it back to her. “It means... voice of the sky people. Roughly—In the Common Tongue.”

“Can you teach me to read it?” Nesta asked, her voice edged with enough excitement she could barely hold it in. Just the word Divumar made Nesta want to float in space and she repeated it silently to herself. How amazing it must have been to be free amongst the clouds, so much that the language sounded holy to her ears.

But it was not freedom that had trailed after Emerie, as she went to stand near the window. The snow burdening the dirt. Her wings drooping to the ground.

“Why did you come back?” She asked, her voice reticent and small.

Nesta could only knock her fingers against the counter. The sound pounding in her ears. She’d never been good with talking, even now as out of practice as she was. Her sisters made friends so easily and Nesta couldn't very well now embody sweet, pretty Elain who only needed to bat her lashes, or Feyre whose laugh made people join in.

Even her sister’s rambunctious, elusive friends were able to hold on to each other. Mor with her bright, happy gaze. Too much like the sun Nesta had wanted to hold a hand across her face and shield herself away. Rhys—she'd wanted to roll her eyes at. Her sister’s mate much too flashy and extreme. Much too pig-headed, too, she’d come to learn. And Azriel had been quiet, studious, veiled in ways that Nesta could understand, but could not empathize with. She was sure it could not be easy making friends with him.

No, Nesta had only one person she’d called a friend—or someone close enough to visit—and Nesta had taught Amren to hate her too. She was so good at being cold most days.

Emerie was not like Amren, though. Not like the Inner Circle, or Feyre or Elain... Not like any of them because no one knew her at all.

The thought made Nesta want to keep her—hide her away from the Inner Circle’s antics, from their judging stares, their obligatory smiles. The one person who was similar to her in ways she had only begun to imagine, who would know her and not hate.

But Nesta had to win her over first and she thought of Cassian in that moment. Though on instinct she wanted to curse his name, she’d seen the way he acted. People liked him, she considered. Always teasing, hiding away everything he felt in the brightness of his grin.

She could do that, she supposed. She could laugh to cover heartbreaks, smile to cover fear...

“It must have been the delightful company,” Nesta joked, her voice strained and forced.

Emerie was not amused. Her mouth set in a stern line and Nesta had to force herself not to back away into a corner somewhere. No, she would keep her head raised until the final moment.

Nesta shrugged, gulping down the insecurity like a scratch in her throat.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She spoke, her words so quiet Emerie wouldn’t have heard them had she not been fae. Nesta almost wished she wasn’t.

“I can’t help you read it.” Emerie answered in turn, “I don’t know how.”

“To read?”

Emerie shook her head, “Not even in the common tongue.”

Nesta didn’t know what to say as Emerie shuffled back and forth, her hand clenched around the cream-colored apron. She turned over the book in her hands, the pages some of her finest jewels and Emerie watched her, a touch of envy in those furrowed brows.

Stories had been her solace all these years. The voices, her many friends. It had always seemed a shame that she couldn’t see what worlds lied beyond the sea, but Nesta had books at least. Her world had not been so small.

The deep sorrow in her bones rivaled the feeling of when Feyre told her the same. A heavy weight like sigh drawing from every crevice. Her sister could not share in her joy, and Nesta didn’t remember ever offering her the chance. All the stories lost in their poverty.

There was no beautiful way to say she was sorry for their lives, that there were so many ways that freedom could be taken away from them. Starting from the first story to the simplest cut.

So instead, Nesta extended a hand, Emerie looking at it. A strange proposition in the midst of them that Nesta wasn’t exactly sure she was making.

“Even exchange of services.” She said, smiling as the Illyrian reached out cautiously. “You teach me to speak and I’ll teach you to read.”

Nesta stood outside the tent when two Illyrians were taken into the infirmary. Carried by a group of males, they were lugged through the open, awaiting tent. They groaned charnel tunes, and Nesta smelled the blood before she saw it drip two trails in the perfect snow.

The wind blew harsh around them as if the sky, itself, knew who had made the wreckage, but the Illyrians paid no mind. One simply commanding orders as another nodded swiftly, hitching the male’s body up higher.

Nesta stepped far away.

The first male, clothed in leathers and fur, looked as pale as the winter morning. His foot pouring blood where it was caught in a trap, the mechanics still biting away at his limb. The second, though not making as much noise, hung dazed in his ragged clothing. His eyes empty and lost. Nesta had to cover her mouth as she took in the arrows logged into his back. His wings torn in places that brought back bad memories.

She wanted to throw up, wanted to huddle in the corner and rock herself as she closed her eyes. The picture of broken limbs and snapped necks, and headless bodies following her even now.

But Nesta did none of those things. She merely stood there, watching as she blinked. The world slowing down enough that even the noise was silenced.

She took a seat, the stool still planted by the entrance way, and picked up the book again. The words for plant, herb, and healing still floating through her mind. She repeated the words. Nabata, traven, and saluber. Nabata, traven, and saluber.

It wasn’t long before the space was quiet again, the wind howling but unable to reach her where she sat. Nesta pointedly ignored the shouts from inside the tent, pretending that it was covered by music. The notes playing some tune she could barely remember.

She was lost to it all.

Until Ira walked out the room… a towel tinged pink in her hands. Nesta stood straighter at the female who grimaced but did not shy away from her gaze.

“You,” She pointed, her wings flaring and wide. Her back straight and indignant. She tapped her foot on the ground and Nesta thought she saw regret in her eyes, but Ira still parted the tent flap. “Do not get in the way.”

Nesta simply pursed her lips, raised her nose dismissively and followed her inside.

@my-fan-side @ekaterinakostrova @anastasia-orlov @lord-douglas-the-third @autumnsletters @soitsgorgeous @sjm-things @courtofjurdan

(Let me know if you want to be tagged, I forgot to tag, or you don’t want to be tagged)

I plan to update every Tuesday btw. So far so good. Also more Nesta/Cassian contact in the next chapter, and some Azriel I think. YAY!

Anyways, like, comment, reblog, if you happened to enjoy and want to read more. :D

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian x nesta #acosf #post acofas #acomaf #acotar #acowar #qom #vidalinav

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olliepig · 4 years

Text

Waiting in the Wings ch 3

Finally, I made it through writing this! Many, many, many thanks to @willow-salix for her endless patience, phone calls and editing wizardry.

As always, the full thing can be found on AO3 here.

Chapter 3

Once back at Creighton-Ward manor, the group settled easily on the couches in the private living room, Cat in particular enjoying the chance to finally put her feet up and relax after the performance. The boys had both ditched their bow ties and jackets the second they were through the door and Penny herself had changed from her evening dress into something infinitely more suitable for relaxing.

As Parker poured the first drinks for them before retiring for the night, Scott took the time to take in the surroundings properly as he had no recollection of ever being invited into this area of the building. Even though their families were close, visits tended to be for work purposes and any time he had spent there had been in one of the more formal reception rooms. He didn’t know why, but the idea that Penny had a comfortable sofa and tv like everyone else amused him somewhat. She had always seemed to him to be so other-worldly and different that it was comforting to know that she was actually just like everyone else.

After the performance Cat had changed into a woolen sweater and jeans, managing to somehow look casual and effortlessly stylish all at once and meaning that she was the only one not needing a change of outfits when they arrived. She was immediately at home in the manor, curled up on the sofa next to Scott and making his heart rate rise slightly with just her proximity.

What surprised Scott was that Gordon also seemed completely at ease as he settled himself on the couch next to Penny. His younger brother was known for being unfazed by new situations but something about his demeanour made Scott strongly suspect that this wasn’t the first time he had been here. Filing that thought away for future examination, he turned his attention back to the conversation.

“So, now we're away from the theatre, what did you guys actually think of the ballet? Did you enjoy it?” Cat felt compelled to ask, almost too scared to hear the answers, especially the one from the man sitting next to her.

“It was amazing,” Scott found himself gushing before anyone else could speak. “You were incredible, I’ve never seen you dance like that. It was a great night and you’ll like this, Gordon even got us ice creams in the interval.” “Well, to be fair it’s been a few years since you last saw me. And you’re right, you can’t go to the theatre without an interval ice cream. It’s tradition.” Cat smiled at Gordon, mentally adding another thing onto her list of reasons why she liked him.

“That's exactly what I said,” exclaimed Gordon triumphantly, warming even more to the dancer and very much enjoying watching his big brother trying to navigate a crush for the first time in years. “So, you two were at school together?” he continued, keen to find out more both about Cat and about Penny’s early life.

“That’s correct. We both attended White Lodge for 2 years - ” answered Penny before realising that perhaps the question had been directed at her friend and stopping suddenly with a flush of embarrassment.

“Until Penny decided that a life on the stage wasn’t for her and decided to go into international espionage instead,” added Cat with a grin aimed squarely at Penny.

“Um what’s White Lodge? Is that the name of the school?” clarified Gordon, realising that he was going to have to work hard to keep up with the two women who seemed to finish each other's sentences.

“Sorry, yes it’s the Royal Ballet Lower School. You go there from 11 til you’re 15 and then to the Upper School at Covent Garden. Penny could easily have been a dancer -”

“But it wasn’t for me,” she finished seamlessly, with an elegant shrug. “It’s a hard life and I just wasn’t willing to devote myself completely to one thing at that age.”

Now that Gordon knew the extent of the training Penny had been through, he could see that her graceful way of moving and lithe form had come at least partially from that time. Not that he was supposed to know exactly how lithe she was, but that ship had well and truly sailed and he definitely wasn’t going to forget the images that flooded his head any time soon.

“So was it a boarding school?” Gordon asked, dragging his thoughts back to the conversation, very aware that sitting was about to become very uncomfortable for him if he didn’t stop that train of thought quickly.

“Yes dear, so we were there for most of the year. And during the holidays Cat tended to come and visit us here so we were together most of the time in those first few years.”

“I didn’t have the best home life when I was young so Penny let me come here and stay instead of going back to the house for the holidays,” explained Cat. “That actually continued whenever our holidays coincided even after she’d left the school so I’m very much indebted to her and her family.”

“And your family didn’t mind?” asked Gordon.

“I don’t think they really cared to be honest. My dad walked out when I was little and my step-dad didn’t really like me at all. My mum did, in her way, but ultimately she was more interested in her new marriage than me.” Cat looked up and smiled at the expressions of sadness on Penny and Scott’s faces. Her family was something she rarely talked about, preferring to maintain a safe distance from her past and it now barely bothered her to think of it privately. Somehow though, seeing other people's reactions to her story seemed to trigger an emotional response that she really didn’t want to deal with here.

Scott caught her eyes and Cat was suddenly reminded of how sweet and caring he had always been about her history when they were together and how mindful he had always been of it when talking about his own family. Feeling an ache starting in her chest for his comfort now, she quickly looked away trying her best to maintain her dignity.

As the only member of the group to whom this was new information, Gordon was horrified that someone could be treated that way and his feelings were clear for all to see. Although he obviously knew that it happened and he’d come across others who had been through similar upbringings, there was something about the woman sitting opposite him talking so frankly and openly about her parents not caring for her that broke his heart a little.

“That’s ridiculous! Some people just shouldn’t be allowed to have kids!” he exclaimed loudly, not sure if he was more surprised by his outburst or the sudden feeling of Penny’s hand reassuringly on his arm, its presence instantly calming his temper but leaving him flustered in oh so many other ways. Which were made worse by the fact that his brother was sitting directly opposite him with a strange smirk on his face.

“I know what you mean but you don’t need to worry about me,” Cat continued, taking in the scene being played out in front of her but choosing to let it go without comment, beyond happy that her friend had found someone whom she obviously liked so much but also with a slight pang of jealousy that she didn’t have someone like that in her life. “A lot of people say that they wouldn’t be where they are today without their parents and that’s definitely true for me too, just not in the same way as most others. I threw myself into dancing so I could get away from the house as quickly as possible. It worked - there’s no way we could have afforded the ballet school without financial help but they must have liked me at my audition because I got a full scholarship. I moved away at 11 and that just spurred me on to work harder and harder so I didn’t have to go back.”

Cat risked another quick glance at Scott as she finished speaking and was surprised to find him watching her with something akin to pride in his eyes. She held his gaze for a second and gave him a small smile, enjoying the flutter of excitement that shot through her as he smiled back before she tore herself away and back to the conversation. Mentally, she slapped herself as she looked away. She had promised herself that she wasn’t going to get involved with him and reminded herself again of all the reasons why it couldn’t work. And yet she couldn’t deny that there was something there. Something that she’d been missing for a long time.

“It was at least partially Cat’s work ethic that convinced me that I didn’t want to be a dancer,” chimed in Penny, finally taking her hand back from where it had been resting on Gordons arm, leaving him feeling strangely bereft at its absence. “Do you remember we used to put on ballets in the ballroom during the holidays and make poor Parker watch them?”

“Oh god, yes! The poor man probably still hates me for that, although he did always give us flowers after every show,” laughed Cat, as Gordon and Scott both smirked at the thought of the gruff butler being forced to sit and feign enjoyment through a kids ballet show.

“Well,” Penny turned back to the boys, still smiling at the memory of their childhood escapades, “I used to watch her practicing the same steps over and over again while we were here during the holidays and it was just not something I could ever see myself doing for the rest of my life. Cat used to get the highest marks in the class in our exams and everyone used to talk about her natural talent but I knew exactly how much work went into making that natural ability work for her.”

Cat blushed as she looked up and met Gordon’s russet eyes, filled with knowing appreciation of her dedication to honing her skills. She smiled at the former Olympian, realising that out of all of them, he probably best understood the sacrifices needed to make it to the top of a competitive vocation.

She didn’t even need to look at Scott to know that his eyes would be filled with the pride she could feel radiating out of him. Nevertheless, she couldn’t resist a quick glance and he didn’t disappoint, fixing her with a large grin that left her in no doubt of his feelings and flustering her as she tried to deflect the attention.

“You’re too kind but I didn’t have too much of a choice about working hard - I had to be the best to keep my scholarship. Eventually it just became a habit and it's not something I’ve ever lost. What I remember about school is you absolutely obliterating everyone in the academic exams, Penny. Let's be honest, dancing isn’t the most important job in the world and you’re definitely much better doing, well, whatever it is you do now.” Cat turned to an enthralled Gordon and continued. “Penny was head and shoulders above the rest of us academically and to be honest I think it would have been a waste if she’d stayed there and become a dancer.”

“Perhaps,” Penny conceded, “but I’m glad I had that experience anyway, ” she continued, deciding the conversation needed moving on and looking between Cat and Scott who had up until then been uncharacteristically quiet. “How did you two meet?”

“Oooh, you’ll like this,” Cat exclaimed, immediately sitting forward as Scott dropped his head into his hands with a barely audible groan, instantly piquing Penny and Gordon’s interest. “I was out at a bar in Richmond with some of my friends from the company when a group of guys came in. One of whom was wearing a pair of rather fetching red PVC thigh high boots,” she finished, fixing Scott with a rather devilish grin, as Gordon exploded with laughter.

“Oh, so you’re ‘kinky boots man’?” clarified Penny, somehow managing to maintain her decorum despite Gordon nearly sliding off the sofa next to her in mirth with tears streaming down his face.

“He certainly is,” Cat answered for Scott, who was still trying unsuccessfully to disappear into the sofa in embarrassment. “We reckoned it was a dare of some kind because, other than the boots, everyone was dressed normally. We sat and debated it for a while and some of the girls were trying to find a way of getting the attention of the rest of his friends but it looked like it would take forever to find out the story and I’m really impatient, so I took myself off up to the bar at the same time as ‘kinky boots guy’ to ask. We got chatting, the groups merged for the night and the rest is history.”

“And what exactly was the reason behind the boots may I ask?”

Scott looked over at Cat and shook his head in exasperation, the effect undone somewhat by the smile that he couldn’t quite keep off his face as the memories of that night came flooding back to him. Doing the best impression of innocence she could manage, Cat smiled sweetly back at him but the glint in her eyes gave her away and he genuinely wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle or kiss her. Shifting uncomfortably, he turned his focus back to the occupants of the other sofa as he tried to work out exactly how his life had reached this point.

“It was a dare I had with some of the guys in the squadron,” Scott finally supplied, resigned to his fate now that the story was out in the open. “I don’t even know where the boots came from but we found them and decided that whoever lost the next race we did to the mess had to wear them on the next night out. I was the quickest of the lot of them so I agreed but they ganged up on me and kept shoving me out of the way. One of them managed to knock me over a low wall and by the time I was on my feet again they’d all finished. So the boots were mine.”

“That does make more sense I guess,” Gordon spluttered, reaching for his phone. “We had similar things in WASP. I’d give anything to see pictures of that though.”

“Well unlucky for you, there aren’t any. And not a word to the others. Especially Alan. Please?” Scott warned, hating himself for spoiling Gordon’s fun but unwilling to have this conversation repeated to their baby brother by anyone other than himself. He had learned enough about Gordon’s propensity for embellishment to know that he did not want to take the risk with a story that had as many possibilities as this.

“Well, I could be persuaded…” Gordon sat back expectantly, leaving his phone mercifully untouched.

“We can discuss THAT on the way back home tomorrow,” Scott spoke with more finality that he felt, concerned about the price his brother would expect for his silence but knowing that there was nothing he could do to avoid at least some form of bribery. He had hoped to keep his escapade it the boots private, something he had managed well over the years. He hadn’t factored in Cat however, which he was now realising was a rookie error.

“Well, if that's the best you can do, I think I’m going to turn in for the night, ” Gordon announced with an exaggerated yawn, bringing Scott’s attention back to the conversation from where it had been happily gagging his little brother. “It’s been a long day what with the change in time zones and whatnot.”

Scott’s suspicions were immediately raised. He knew for a fact that Gordon had slept on their journey over to England and that he never willingly took an early night if there was something better on offer and nothing to get up for the next morning. He didn’t miss the look that went between Gordon and Penny as he spoke nor the slight blush that appeared on the Lady’s face in response to it. Suddenly, Scott realised that he may have some leverage against Gordon after all and his worry about everyone hearing about the boots lessened considerably.

“You know which room you’re sleeping in tonight?” Penny checked, making Scott raise a quizzical eyebrow at Cat who smiled and rolled her eyes in response.

“Absolutely” Gordon grinned, holding Penny’s gaze as he stood up and stretched theatrically. Dragging his eyes away from the Lady, goodnight wishes were given along with a hug for Cat. Passing behind the sofa as he headed for the door, he trailed his fingers lightly over Penny’s shoulders making her shiver unconsciously at his touch. A cheery wave from the doorway, another lingering look for Penny and he was gone, leaving the others to continue their night.

Settling back down after Gordon’s departure, Scott was glad to realise that he wasn’t especially required in conversation beyond maintaining a polite level of interested mumblings. It had quickly turned to some of the technicalities of the ballet that evening, with Penny giving a more detailed critique than she had earlier before moving on to more general talk about people he didn’t know so he contented himself instead with sipping his drink and watching the interplay between the friends.

Penny’s formal facade had slipped more and more as the night had gone on, especially since she had become engrossed in conversation with her best friend and he found it fascinating to see the real woman peeking through. He’d always known that she must have a more informal persona underneath the layers of etiquette but it still somehow shocked him to see her with her legs curled up beneath her on the sofa, glass of wine in hand, chatting with her best friend.

As the minutes passed however, he was forced to admit to himself that he was increasingly struggling to focus on anything that wasn’t the woman sitting next to him. Every time he started to form any kind of coherent thoughts about anything, he was distracted by the sound of her voice and her laugh.

It had been clear to him from the beginning that he was still very much attracted to her but he just couldn’t for the life of him work out what was going through her head and whether she felt the same in return.

She was still catching his gaze for a split second longer than would be considered normal and there were a couple of times that he caught her glancing at him and smiling in a way that he would ordinarily read as flirting but he just wasn’t completely confident and didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, especially as she was so close to Penny. Generally, he was very confident of his ability to read people but it felt like he had a total block on understanding the one person in the room that he desperately wanted to and it was frustrating him no end.

Sitting opposite her guests, Penny yawned and finished her drink. She had been enjoying watching the interplay between them and was sure that they thought they were being subtle but she could read Cat like an open book and Scott had spent most of the evening gazing at her like a lovesick teen so it wasn’t difficult to imagine what he was thinking.

Swirling beneath her observations however were more determined thoughts that no amount of distraction could suppress. Thoughts that had her glancing over to where she had last seen the young man who had sat next to her until recently, whose fingers had seared trails across her shoulders as he left. Her sense of duty to her guests meant that she stayed until they were ready to leave. Her glass remained empty in preparation for that moment.

Curled up like her namesake on the sofa next to Scott, Cat was taking great delight at watching her friend shift uncomfortably in her seat as they talked, peeking at the door and clearly wanting to follow Gordon but feeling unable to do so until her other guests had retired for the night. To a casual observer, Penny looked to be completely relaxed but Cat had the advantage of years worth of friendship and could tell that an internal struggle was raging between what upbringing told her was the etiquette with guests and her more immediate desire.

Feeling in the mood for a little mischief, she kept the conversation going, extending it at every natural break and enjoying the sight of Penny becoming more and more desperate to make her escape.

She knew full well that Gordon’s departure was the reason but the fact that neither of them had come clean about their relationship meant that it was possible to plead ignorance if ever challenged. She was so entertained watching Penny’s struggle, she almost missed the look Scott gave when Mark, her partner from the ballet that evening, was mentioned.

She wasn’t unaware of how outsiders might view her close friendship with her fellow dancer but it surprised her to see a flash of hurt in his eyes before it was quickly concealed as they returned back to their previous studied calm. Having spent the entire evening hyper aware of the man next to her, she couldn't help but smile at the thought that it might not just be her that was feeling their old attraction again.

Despite her awareness of his every move, as the evening had progressed Cat had become more and more at ease with the man sitting next to her. Being a dancer, she was used to physical contact and, as the temperature dropped with the passing hours, she thought nothing of it when she shifted her position to be ever so slightly closer to him, finding his warmth to be comforting in its familiarity.

As Cat shifted to lean on him, Scott instantly stiffened before forcing his muscles to relax again, despite his brain going at a million miles an hour trying to work out if it meant something. He just had no idea how to act and what was expected of him, caught between not wanting to make a scene in the middle of Penny’s house if he got things wrong and every nerve in his body screaming at him to wrap his arm around her and pull her in against him.

Eventually, after artificially extending the conversation for as long as she dared Cat finally conceded that it was time for her to go to bed too. Scott, who had not been oblivious to what she had been up to agreed readily that bed sounded like a good idea and so the group disbanded for the night, with Penny heading upstairs to her suite while Cat and Scott made their way through the mansion to the guest wing where their bedrooms were situated.

As they walked, Scott took the time to admire the effortless grace of his companion. On the stage she was elegance personified but now, with only the barest smudge of makeup on and her long hair cascading in waves down her back, she looked even more beautiful to him if that was possible. How he longed to run his fingers through that hair again, maybe brushing it gently away from her face before leaning down for a gentle kiss… Pulling himself back to reality for the millionth time that evening, he cleared his throat making Cat look up at him in expectation.

“What’s going on between those two do you think?” Scott wondered, realising that they were out of earshot of anybody who would care. He felt strangely unable to start the conversation he had been desperate to have all night so he had settled on the next best thing available and silently kicked himself for it.

“Scott Tracy, you are a gossip!”

“I am not,” he protested half heartedly.

“Yes you are, and I love it,” Cat countered, catching his eyes and smiling, enjoying once again the flutter in her chest when he smiled back. “But I have no idea what’s happening there I’m afraid. She told me about a ‘Gordon’ who she had taken a liking to a year or so ago and there was something about a moment they had in a temple but she wasn’t very specific. Most likely because she wasn’t telling me exactly who he was.” “I wonder if that was when they got trapped?” Scott mused, more to himself than anyone else, remembering the day they thought they had lost Penny and Gordon on an exploratory study of the Tomb of the Laughing King as it collapsed around them. The memory triggered a flash of anger at that old coot Professor Harold for callously suggesting that they should be sacrificed for the good of archaeology before quickly dousing it with the shame of having to be pulled away by Virgil before he did something he would have almost certainly regretted.

“They got what? She didn’t tell me that part!” Cat exclaimed, completely missing the emotions playing out over Scott’s face thanks to her surprise at his revelation. She had always understood that Penny’s involvement with International Rescue meant that there would be large parts of her life that she wouldn’t be privy to, but somehow it was still shocking to be confronted with evidence of it. “Well, I guess she plays her cards close to her chest, does our Penny. Even with me.”

“I’ve never known Gordon willingly take an early night when there’s nothing on the next day so something has to be up. And did you see the way they were looking at each other?” enquired Scott, giving Cat exactly the sort of look that his brother had been aiming at Penny all evening.

“Oh I completely agree about the looks,” Cat smiled, her heart rate quickening at the sudden tension that had sprung up between them. Something intangible had just shifted and she felt unaccountably nervous, knowing that despite all her promises to herself that she wasn’t going to let anything happen with him, now her mind was filled with desire and not much else. “There’s definitely something going on. I’m sure between the two of us we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“We sure will. Well, this is me here, ” Scott admitted as they slowed to a halt outside one of the many doors. “Thanks for inviting me tonight. I had a great time.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m just glad you enjoyed it, I was worried you’d be bored.” Cat broke his gaze and looked at the floor at her admission, embarrassed that she still felt that she needed his approval. It had been years since she last thought about him before he waltzed back into her life and now here she was again, desperate for him to notice and appreciate her.

Seeing Cat standing looking so unsure of herself, it was all Scott could do not to scoop her up in his arms. The difference in her from earlier was startling to him - mere hours before, she had been completely at ease alone on the stage in front of 2500 people, but here in the corridor she seemed so fragile that he longed to hold her tight and protect her from the world.

“You really didn’t need to be. And if you ever want another supporter at one of your shows then I’d be honoured to be there,” Scott added sincerely. He had enjoyed his night at the ballet much more than he had expected and the thought of having more experiences like that at the theatre was something he was very happy to explore. Especially if it meant spending more time with Cat.

“I’d be careful what you wish for if I were you,” Cat joked with a wicked smile, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders now she knew he was serious about his enjoyment of the ballet. “But seriously, thank you. It was really nice knowing you were there tonight.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Scott was at a loss for words. He desperately didn’t want to say goodnight but he couldn’t think of any plausible reason to keep talking either.

“I guess this is goodnight then,” Cat said, smiling ruefully, wishing that there was some way of prolonging the night. If she was honest with herself, what she wanted to do was reach up and kiss Scott, but her fear of being rebuffed was keeping her paralysed.

“I guess so…”

“Goodnight, Scott. I’ve had a really good time tonight. I’m glad we met each other again”

“Me too. Like you wouldn’t believe. Night night, Cat,” he replied softly.

Knowing that she wouldn’t forgive herself if he didn’t take the chance but steeling herself for rejection, Cat could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she reached up to wrap her arms around him. Taking a chance, she brushed his cheek with her lips and Scott felt it like a bolt of lightning. After holding the hug for as long as she dared, she pulled back slightly and felt Scott’s arms stay securely around her waist, just as they had 2 weeks previously.

“Can I ask you something before we head to bed?” he started, more sure of the answer now he could feel her kiss seared onto his cheek but knowing he wouldn’t forgive himself if he proceeded without checking first.

“Of course. Ask away.”

“What’s going on with you and Mark?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Cat laughed. “He’s my best friend besides Penny. I’ve known him since I joined the company and we’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since.”

“Ah, right. I just wasn’t sure when I saw you walking back to the dressing rooms tonight...” Scott tailed off, feeling suddenly stupid for even considering it.

“Well, well, well. Are you jealous, Mr Tracy?” Cat teased, raising an eyebrow as their eyes locked together, the smoulder she found there making her breathing ragged.

“No, I just, um…” The relief Scott felt for knowing that there was nothing stopping him from acting on his feelings was tempered by a sudden indecision as to how to proceed. He was desperate to kiss her but he wanted to take things at her pace. However, a glance down at her slightly parted lips just as she licked them as if in anticipation was enough to burst the dam he had been holding back all night.

Before he knew what he was doing his lips had found hers, crushing them and surprising even himself with the force of his reaction. But what surprised him even more was that Cat hadn’t kneed him in the groin and actually seemed to be kissing him back. Despite that, when he broke the kiss he was still quite prepared to apologise if he had made some massive error in judgement. Instead, he was met by flushed cheeks and a pair of sparkling eyes.

They stilled for a moment, taking in the sudden change in their relationship before Cat reached up for another kiss, barely brushing his lips with her own and making him moan with a delicious mix of pleasure and frustration as she teased him, knowing that he longed for more but unwilling to let him have everything his own way. His lips were perfectly soft, just as she remembered and his kisses generated a burning heat which slowly spread out across her body, leaving her aching to feel his skin against hers.

Gradually she relented to his desire, slowly increasing the pressure and deepening their kisses as she snaked her tongue along the seam of his lips, encouraging them to part. Her lips felt smooth and firm beneath his own as his world ceased to exist beyond the woman in his arms. Memories and sensations from all the other times he had held and kissed her flooded back and he felt his body respond, sending all his blood south and leaving him lightheaded.

Her breathing ragged, Cat pulled back to meet his eyes again, the burning desire in their blue depths ripping through her, stripping away any defences she had built; she could no longer deny that she wanted him and she wanted him right now. A look passed between them that they had shared many times in the past and they simply fell on each other, all caution thrown to the wind.

Scott kissed her again and again, harder and with more urgency which she met with an immediate response. Totally lost in the moment, his knees suddenly went weak and he staggered slightly as her hand slid up to the back of his head, her fingers entwining themselves in his hair and pulling slightly. She was the only one who had ever discovered the way to drive him completely to the edge and it was nearly the end of him right then. Tightening his grip, he was completely lost to her.

Cat smiled to herself at Scott’s reaction, enjoying the sensation of his hand now tangling itself in the long strands of her own hair as he drew her closer to him and pressed his hips against her, letting her feel the unmistakable bulge against her stomach. Desperately, she clawed at his shirt, pulling it out from his waistband and sliding her hands up the smooth skin on his back making him moan again as he kissed her harder while he fumbled for the door handle.

Thinking of nothing but their aching need for each other, they practically fell into the bedroom, not caring who heard the door slamming behind them.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #Scott Tracy #Penelope Creighton Ward #Gordon Tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction

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heavenward-blog · 4 years

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How to become a Christian?

If we are to be saved and have a place in God’s kingdom, we must accept God’s way of salvation.

Steps to Become a Christian

Remember, all the help we shall ever get will be from above, not from this earth. Salvation is from God. Do you want to be a Christian? Would you like to be a Christian, but do not know how to begin?

The steps to Christ are few and plain and easy to understand, and we shall just turn to God’s Guidebook now for our information. What must one who would come to God do first of all? The answer is found in Hebrews 11:6: “Without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him.”

Believe

1) We must believe God exists and that He rewards those who seek Him. That’s the first step. But you say: “I don’t have faith. How can I get this faith in God?” Well, here’s the way as described by the apostle Paul in Romans 10:17: “Faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ.” The word of God, then, as found in the Bible brings faith when we study it and receive it into our hearts. So begin at once to follow the Bible path.

Repent

2) Now we come to the second step, which leads us to a change of life. It is here in Romans 2:4: “Do you show contempt for the riches of His kindness, tolerance and patience, not realizing that God’s kindness leads you towards repentance?”

So the second step is repentance. First, belief in God; second, repentance. But you ask, “Are you sure God will forgive me?” The answer to that question is found in 1 John 1:9: “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” We read the same thing in Exodus 34:6,7: “The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin.”

So you see, our heavenly Father treats us better than we deserve.

So you see, our heavenly Father treats us better than we deserve. Yes, He desires to forgive us. “For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” — John 3:16

That’s what God’s love and goodness led Him to do for us. So. first of all, we must believe in God. Then we must realize that we are sinners and repent. “Repent, then and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out.” — Acts 3:19

Now, no one is going to repent if he isn’t sorry for his sins. We read in 2 Corinthians 7:9: “Now I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance.” Repentance is simply being sorry for our sins and putting them away. It is not a sorrow for fear of punishment, but a hatred of the sin itself because we know it grieves the heart of God, whether or not we suffer for the sin here on earth. Is it natural for us, of our own selves, to repent? No. In Acts 5:31 we read: “God exalted Him to His own right hand as Prince and Savior that He might give repentance and forgiveness of sins to Israel.”

You know, friends, conviction is not repentance. It is one thing to be awakened at five o’clock in the morning, but it is another thing to get up. It has been said, “Repentance is being so sorry for sin that you quit sinning.”

Across the great Zambezi River in Africa, just below the Victoria Falls, there is a great bridge spanning the chasm over the most terrible turmoil of waters on earth. It was built by engineers working from both sides of the river. They extended on through the single span until the two arms met above midstream, thus completing the bridge.

Repentance and faith are the arms of the bridge that enables us to pass from earth to heaven.

Repentance and faith are the arms of the bridge that enables us to pass from earth to heaven. They unite to make our salvation possible. Neither of itself is sufficient. We must believe in God and we must repent. It is useless, friends, to try to be Christians if we do not repent of our sins. We cannot change ourselves from sinners to believers in any other way. We read in Jeremiah 13:23: “Can the Ethiopian change his skin or the leopard its spots? Neither can you do good who are accustomed to doing evil.” Repentance is absolutely necessary. One reason why we have such unhappy lives is that we do not repent. Many who carry on a form of Christianity have never truly repented, and therefore have never been happy in their Christian experience. One reason why some religious workers never have a revival is that they have not repented of their sins—they are still unconverted. Friend, have you repented? Will you repent?

Revival

Dr. F. B. Meyer tells of a revival meeting that was dragging along with no signs of success. Finally one of the leading elders arose and said, “Pastor, l don’t think we’ll have a revival here as long as Brother Jones and I won’t speak to each other.” Then he went over to Jones and said: Brother Jones, You and I haven’t spoken to each other for five years. It’s time to bury the hatchet. Here’s my hand.” Just then a sob broke the silence. Another elder arose in the audience and said, “Pastor, I don’t think there will be revival here until I repent. We can’t have revival as long as I say mean things behind your back and nice things to your face. I want you to forgive me.” Soon others arose and confessed their sins and tried to set matters right. It wasn’t long before the revival broke out. Then the blessing of God came upon them and swept over the community for three years.

Confess

3) The next step in becoming a Christian is confession. “Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” (James 5:16) “He that conceals his sins does not prosper, but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy.” (Proverbs 28:13) Confession that leads to the forsaking of sin is the real kind. But, in addition to this, what else is necessary on the part of the repentant sinner? “If the wicked gives back what he took in pledge for a loan, returns what he has stolen, follows the decrees that give life, and does no evil, he will surely live; he will not die,” — Ezekiel 33:15.

Real repentance and confession mean not only to stop sinning, but to do everything possible to make right past wrongs.

Real repentance and confession mean not only to stop sinning, but to do everything possible to make right past wrongs. No man can steal ten dollars and expect God to forgive him unless he tries to pay back what he has taken. Otherwise it wouldn’t be real repentance or real confession.

But when a person truly repents and confesses, God forgives, for we have already read in 1 John 1:9. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” Forgiveness is God’s work, not ours. When we confess, we simply believe that God forgives, and He does. That's the end of it. We may or may not feel that our sins are gone, but they are. We are not to depend upon feeling, we are to believe God.

The son of a minister strayed from the straight and narrow way into a life of debauchery and sin. He made a name and great fame for himself in the world of affairs, but allowed himself to slip down to the lowest places. He described his own condition as that of a drunkard, a dope fiend, and a down-and-outer. But, after fifteen long years, he gave God a chance to redeem him and he was gloriously saved. Then he returned home, but only to find that his poor father had died of a broken heart, calling his name, that through all those years his mother had kept a lighted lamp in the window every night and all night.

Friends, God has a light in His window for all His wayward children; and, while the lamp holds out to burn, the wandering sinner may return. Won’t you come back now, for God will forgive you? So we have these three important steps: To believe in God, to repent, and to confess our sins.

Baptism

4) Now the next step is baptism, and the proof for this found in Acts 2:38, 39: “Repent, and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off—for all whom the Lord our God will call.”

The change which comes through faith, repentance, confession of sin, and following the Word of God in all obedience, is called the new birth. Jesus said: “You must be born again,” John 3:7. This is spoken of also as regeneration. It’s new life, a re-creation by the power of the Holy Spirit in the heart of the one who believes. This is not something that we can work up, not a form of psychology. It’s not a by-product of education or culture, but it’s a miracle wrought by the power of the Holy Spirit of God. Then Christ lives His life within us, a life of perfect obedience.

Can we obey in our own strength? No, for in John 15:5 we read, “Apart from Me, you can do nothing.” But how much can we do with Christ’s help? The answer comes to us from Philippians 4:13:“I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.” But if we do sin after we have made a start for Christ, should we become discouraged and cease to follow Him? Never! We read 1 John 2:1: “My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But If anybody does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One.”

What if I Keep Falling as a Christian

A saint, or follower of Jesus, is not necessarily one who never sins, but one who, as soon as he does sin, asks forgiveness of God, believes himself forgiven and goes on rejoicing to grow in grace and in the knowledge of the Lord. He may stumble and fall, but he gets up and presses forward again. Such a fall is not counted against him when he repents and asks forgiveness and divine help to live the right life. But he is to grow stronger and stronger. Is it possible to be kept from falling? Jude 24 answers that question: “To Him who is able to keep you from falling, and to present you before His glorious presence without fault and with great joy!”

The Final Word: On Becoming a Christian

So we have clearly outlined the steps that we need to take in order to become a Christian: (1) To believe in God, (2) to repent, (3) to confess our sins, (4) to be baptized and obey the Lord.

#God #Jesus #Jesus Christ #Messiah #Yahweh #Lord #King #Christian #Christianity #Religion #hope #love #wisdom #faith #grace #mercy #saint #bible #bible verse #scripture #Christ

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mokonalikescake · 4 years

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Our Love Was Foretold in the Stars! (WIP)

Shallura Week Day 7: WIP

A big thank you to @shalluraweek for organizing a successful event, and for all the wonderful writers and artists who flooded the tag! It was wonderful!

Here’s a snippet of chapter 4 from my Tanabata-inspired fic:

The air was cool in the early morning. Allura had stayed up the night before, mulling over the flaws of her quintessence battery; her device was able to hold quintessence for a full day now, but with the amount of quintessence it absorbed, what came out of it was barely a trickle.

Allura woke up on her bed, barely remembering making the trip from the lab to her bedroom. The bags under her eyes were deep and dark, belying the few hours of sleep the princess was able to muster. Her mind was filled to the brim with calculations, models, and static.

The princess begrudgingly got out of bed, mentally cursing her internal body clock for waking her up at this hour. She pulled a deep burgundy dress with golden accents over her body and sat in front of her vanity. She looked at her face in the mirror and cringed. Her dark circles could be hidden under a few swipes of makeup, but she couldn't erase the ring of pink lining her tired eyes; however, it was the best she could do right now.

Allura snuck into the kitchens, swiping a pastry. The lone baker in the room happened to catch her and bowed, a little amusement in his eyes. The princess blushed and gave a nod back. She took a bite, immediately immersed in the sugary sweetness of juniberry jam bursting out of the flaky crust.

Allura hummed. She definitely needed the treat after the rough night she had.

“This is delicious!” she exclaimed,”Wonderful as always, Fraylen.”

The baker smiled at the princess's approval.

Allura quietly walked her empty hallways as she finished her breakfast. The first traces of sunlight started peeking through the windows, slowly growing bigger and brighter as she went to the training grounds.

The grass squelched under her feet, dew still coating each blade. The grounds were peaceful and quiet, a rare but welcome sensation.

The kingdom was in the midst of a week-long festival honoring the creation of the world by the goddess. King Alfor had suspended court, and he permitted many of the servants to go back home during the holiday. Even the knights had suspended their training. Very few people would be up this early.

Captain Shirogane just happened to be one of the few who were.

His shirt, a rag, and a flask of water were placed carefully on the grass. Allura picked them up and watched. The man was without his shirt, and the princess admired the view.

The man’s body was pure muscle, sculpted through years of discipline and training. He moved gracefully and deftly around the training grounds, and Allura committed every part of his body to memory, for future daydreaming.

The captain finished all of his drills, his stance wide and his sword pointing towards his sole audience member. His eyes grew wide.

“Princess!” He quickly sheathed his sword. Allura could see him flush a deep red all the way down the column of his neck. The man stood stock still as she approached him.

“Captain, please,” she teasingly reproached him, “we are alone. I told you before that you can call me Allura.”

Those words seemed to appease the captain, who immediately relaxed and gave her a small smile.

“If that’s the case then, Allura, you can call me Shiro.”

“Shi-ro,” Allura tested the way it sounded, “Shortened from your last name, I presume?”

Shiro gave her a nod. “Everyone but my commanding officer has called me Shiro since I was training.”

The princess hummed in understanding. She was still holding the items he left on the grass, and she offered them back to him. Shiro thanked her as he took the rag. He quickly wiped the sweat off his face and neck, once more pulling Allura’s attention back to his body.

From the moment she saw them during the drills, Allura’s attention was most captured by Shiro’s scars. They varied in size and color; some were faded scratches, while others were more angry looking, swathes of pink scar tissue on his chest from wounds that haven’t completely healed yet. Some might feel repulsed by the marks on his body, but the princess felt fascination and appreciation, twinged with a pinch of sadness. Her father said Shiro had went through a lot to become the Captain of the Black Lion Forces, but she could hardly imagine what he had to face.

Her eyes quickly mapped the contours and ridges of his body before looking back up to his face, only to meet his onyx-colored eyes, Her face felt warm again. Allura quickly looked away while shaking her arm holding his shirt.

The captain grabbed the shirt, one again murmuring his thanks, and put it on. Allura silently thanked the Goddess for Shiro not commenting on her ogling.

He then took the flask out of her hands. Their fingers brushed each other for a moment. Allura felt as if someone zapped her with quintessence, and she wondered if Shiro felt the same. If he did, he had no reaction; instead, he hastily opened the flask and gulped the water down. A drop of water escaped his lips, sliding down his jaw. Allura traced the droplet with her eyes as it moved down his neck. She noticed that the scratches there were, thankfully, few and faint in color.

Quickly realizing she was ogling again, the blushing princess stared at the grass, trying to gain her composure.

“Given how my father suspended training, I thought you would be taking a break,” Allura remarked.

“The best time for me to train is when I have no one else to teach. Besides, this is how I relieve stress from breaking up these two knights who keep bickering,” Shiro groaned at the mention of his two worst students.

Allura knew the two whom Shiro was referring to. They were skilled, and they were pretty good when paired together, but eventually one of them would turn a simple drill into a contest.

“I can only imagine,” the princess replied, “You must have all the patience in the world.”

Shiro shrugged, “Patience yields focus. There’s a time and a place to release my frustration, and it’s never when I’m training others. How would I get my men to trust me if I yell without thinking?”

The pair lapsed into silence as Shiro wiped his brow.

“Are you finished with your training for the day?” the princess inquired.

“I am. I’m going to take a bath and then go down to the village for the festival.”

“Perfect! I have to make an appearance there myself. Would you be my escort?” Allura asked, hope quickly morphing into horror that she brazenly asked the Captain of the Black Lion Forces to be with her on his sole day off.

“N-not that you have to! You’re off duty today and you should enjoy it however you like -”

Shiro cut her off by giving her a bow. She noticed the small smile gracing his handsome face.

“It would be an honor.”

#shallura #shalluraweek2020 #shallura week #I read a lot of romance novels #can't you tell?#stay thirsty my friends

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tawakkull · 4 years

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Forgiveness and Tolerance in Islam: Tolerance in the life of the individual and society: Part1

First of all, I would like to indicate that tolerance is not something that was invented by us. Tolerance was first introduced on this Earth by the prophets whose teacher was God. Even if it would not be correct to attribute tolerance to God, He has attributes that are rooted in tolerance, like forgiveness, the forgiveness of sins, compassion and mercy for all creatures, and the veiling of the shame and faults of others. The All-Forgiving, the All-Merciful, and the All-Veiling of Faults are among the most frequently mentioned names of God in the Qur'an.

The golden era when tolerance was represented at its apex was the Age of Happiness, and I would like to give some true examples from that historical time, events that extend in a line from that “period of roses” until today.

An Example of Forgiveness

As is known, in the historical “Event of Slander” the hypocrites made slanderous accusations against ‘A'isha, the chaste wife of the Prophet and the spiritual mother of all believers. 'A'isha has a special place among the pure wives of the Prophet because the Prophet was the first man she saw when she awakened to womanhood. In a period when she became fully conscious of her womanhood, 'A'isha became a member of the Prophet’s pure household and there she breathed only an atmosphere of chastity and honor. 'A'isha, an exemplar of chastity, became subjected to a planned slander campaign during this period. Both herself, her family and the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, suffered much because of this slander. However, the verse revealed approximately one month later declared 'A'isha’s unadulterated purity and innocence. However, her father Abu Bakr, who had been giving financial support to one of those who was involved in the slander, took an oath not to give any more support to this person. But, the verse that was revealed warned that the most faithful friend of the Prophet, Sultan of Tolerance, should be more lenient.The verse reads:

Let not those among you who are endowed with grace and amplitude of means resolve by oath against helping their kinsmen, those in want, and those who have left their homes in God’s cause: let them forgive and overlook. Do you not wish that God should forgive you? For God is the All-Forgiving, the All-Merciful. (An-Nur 24:22)

I want to draw you attention in particular to the expression at the end of this verse: Do you not wish that God should forgive you? For God is the All-Forgiving, the All-Merciful. In reality, the All-Merciful God Whose mercy is unequalled and compared to which all the mercy in the world is but a drop in the ocean, continually secrets Himself and, in spite of everything, forgives us, forgives everything, from the unbecoming words that enter our ears and darken our spirits to the filth that flows into us from the universe and back to the society that we have polluted. His question, Do you not wish that God should forgive you? directed at people like us who are always in need of purification, is very fine and sincere and worthy of being coveted. By means of this verse, God indicates that just as He forgives us, so too should we forgive one another for the mistakes we make, and this is illustrated to us as a Qur'anic virtue in the character of Abu Bakr.

Forgiveness and tolerance are given great importance in the messages of the Prophets, which are from divine and celestial sources.

A prophet has the duty of educating and training others. In order for the truths that he is conveying to influence the hearts of others, his own heart must beat with forgiveness and tolerance. When some faults that are the result of a person’s nature collide with the tolerant atmosphere of a person of truth, they melt and disperse like a meteor. Instead of splitting open someone’s head, the legions of light, which resemble the lamps lit on nights of celebration, will soothe the eyes and give joy to the heart. As I mentioned before, there is in actual fact such a divine virtue recommended in our Prophet’s hadith, “Take on the virtue of God."Does not God Himself always forgive those who deny Him? On the cosmic plane this crime is unforgivable murder and rebellion. But look at the vastness of God’s forgiveness and pardon. In spite of the ungratefulness of His servants, He says:

Without doubt My Mercy precedes My Wrath.

My Mercy extends to all things. (Al-Araf 7:156)

With His attribute of Mercy, without showing any bias, He nurtures and protects all human beings and, indeed all animate creatures, and He continues to give sustenance even to those who deny Him.

Here it is possible to view all the prophets from the same perspective and present some examples from all of them, but let it suffice to give a few from Prophet Muhammad, the essence of existence, peace and blessings be upon him.

Hamza was one of the Companions whom the Prophet loved most. He was not just an ordinary Companion, he was also the Prophet’s uncle and they had both been nursed by the same wetnurse. Suppressing his honor and pride, this lionhearted giant of a man entered the spiritual atmosphere of the Pride of Humanity, peace and blessings be upon him. Supporting his nephew and saying "I am with you” at a critical time when the Muslims were weak in numbers raised his value manifold. Thus, by demonstrating the qualities of his closeness on the spiritual plane as well as on the physical plane, he was able to reach what seemed to be an unattainable height of greatness. Of course, the loyalty of this great hero was rewarded by the Prophet. He was martyred one day while fighting at Uhud; his bloody murderers had sworn to raid Madina and to run every man and woman through. At the hands of his murderers, their hands, eyes and thoughts bloody, Hamza was chopped into pieces. His sacred eyes were gorged out, his ears and lips cut off, his chest was split open and his liver was torn out and bitten into. The Messenger of God, peace and blessings be upon him, whose bosom was full of compassion and mercy, looked at this horrifying scene and his eyes filled with tears like clouds of rain. There were seventy martyrs at the battle of Uhud—twice as many again had been wounded—women were widowed and children were orphaned. When he looked at this scene with the compassion of a prophet, it was almost unbearable. The children of Hamza and the children of other martyrs appeared before the Prophet, shivering like newly hatched chicks. As related in his biographical works, no sooner than the thought “In retribution for what they have done …” had crossed his mind was the following verse revealed:

And if you have to respond to any wrong, respond to the extent of the wrong done to you; but if you endure patiently, this is indeed better for he who endures. (An-Nahl 16:126)

In this verse he was being directed to a horizon of understanding according to his level, and in other words he was told, “You should not think like that.” That sun of leniency and tolerance, peace and blessings be upon him, buried all the pain in his chest and chose the road of patience.

Actually, the Prophet interwove the whole of his life, not only that moment, with tolerance. The polytheists did not spare him any torture or trouble. They drove him out of his homeland, formed armies, and attacked him. But even after the conquest of Makka, when the pagans were anxiously waiting to see how they would be treated, as a sign of his vast compassion and mercy the Prophet said:

I speak as Joseph spoke to his brothers: There is no reproach for you today (because of your previous acts). God will forgive you also. He is the Most Merciful of the Merciful. Go; you are free.[ Ibn al-Athir, Usd al-Ghabah, 1:528-532. ]

The Qur'an is the source of leniency and tolerance, and because these concepts have flowed to us like an exuberant stream from the Conveyor of the Qur'an, peace and blessings be upon him, we cannot think any differently on this matter. Any contrary idea would mean that we do not know the Qur'an and God’s Messenger. From this perspective, because tolerance derives from the Qur'an and the Sunna, it is a Muslim’s natural virtue and, because of the sources it is derived from, it is permanent. The covenant that the Messenger of God presented to the Christians and Jews is truly worthy of attention (the original text of the covenant is preserved today in England). Compared to the principles that our Prophet put forth, humanity today has not attained his level, neither with the declarations of human rights put forth in The Hague or Strasbourg nor that in Helsinki. That Man of Great Forbearance lived together closely with the People of the Book in Madina. In fact, he was even able to find points of agreement with the dark souls who, even though they said, “We are Muslims,” continuously caused friction everywhere and tried to play those with clear consciences one against another. He embraced them by means of forbearance. Upon the death of Abdullah ibn Ubayy, who had been a lifelong enemy, the Prophet even gave his shirt as a burial shroud. Saying, “As long as there is no revelation forbidding me, I will attend his funeral,” and he showed his respect to the deceased.There is no message similar or equal to the message given to humankind by Prophet Muhammad. Thus, it is not possible for those who try and follow “the Most Beautiful Example” to think differently from what he thought.

In this respect, it is not possible to think of tolerance as something that is separate from us; it is a different color and tone of our feelings and thoughts. From this time on platforms for tolerance should be developed in our society. Tolerance should be rewarded, it should be given precedence at every opportunity, and those who behave with forgiveness to others should have a chance to express themselves.

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harajukumasked · 5 years

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Who is this wife of yours? - True story related by a cardiovascular surgeon.

This story was recounted by a consulting cardiovascular surgeon, in one of his lectures:

Once I operated on a two and a half year old child. It was Tuesday, and on Wednesday the child was in good health. On Thursday at 11:15 am – and I’ll never forget the time because of the shock I experienced – one of the nurses informed me that the heart and breathing of the child had stopped. I hurried to the child and performed cardiac massage for 45 minutes and during that entire time the heart would not work.

Then, ALLAH decreed for the heart to resume function and we thanked HIM. I went to inform the child’s family about his condition. As you know, it is very difficult to inform the patient’s family about his condition when it’s bad. This is one of the most difficult situations a doctor is subjected to but it is necessary. So I looked for the child’s father whom I couldn’t find. Then I found his mother. I told her that the child’s cardiac arrest was due to bleeding in his throat; we don’t know the cause of this bleeding and fear that his brain is dead. So how do you think she responded? Did she cry? Did she blame me? No, nothing of the sort. Instead, she said “Alhamdulillah” (All Praise is due to ALLAH) and left me.

After 10 days, the child started moving. We thanked ALLAH and were happy that his brain condition was reasonable. After 12 days, the heart stopped again because of the same bleeding. We performed another cardiac massage for 45 minutes but this time his heart didn’t respond. I told his mother that there was no hope. So she said: “Alhamdulillah. O ALLAH, if there is good in his recovery, then cure him, O my Lord.”

With the grace of ALLAH, his heart started functioning again. He suffered six similar cardiac arrests till a trachea specialist was able to stop the bleeding and the heart started working properly. Now, three and a half months had passed and the child was recovering but did not move. Then just as he started moving, he was afflicted with a very large and strange pus-filled abscess in his head, the likes of which I had never seen. I informed his mother of the serious development. She said “Alhamdulillah” and left me.

We immediately turned him over to the surgical unit that deals with the brain and nervous system and they took over his treatment. Three weeks later, the boy recovered from this abscess but was still not moving. Two weeks pass and he suffers from a strange blood poisoning and his temperature reaches 41.2°C (106°F). I again informed his mother of the serious development and she said with patience and certainty: “Alhamdulillah. O ALLAH, if there is good in his recovery, then cure him.”

After seeing his mother who was with her child at Bed#5, I went to see another child at Bed#6. I found that child’s mother crying and screaming, “Doctor! Doctor! Do something! The boy’s temperature reached 37.6°C (99.68°F)! He’s going to die! He’s going to die!” I said with surprise, “Look at the mother of that child in Bed#5. Her child’s fever is over 41°C (106°F), yet she is patient and praises ALLAH.” So she replied: “That woman isn’t conscious and has no senses”. At that point, I remembered the great Hadith of the Prophet (Sallallaahu Alaihi Wa Sallam): “Blessed are the strangers.” Just two words… but indeed two words that shake a nation! In 23 years of hospital service, I have never seen the likes of this patient sister.

We continued to care for him. Now, six and a half months have passed and the boy finally came out of the recovery unit – not talking, not seeing, not hearing, not moving, not smiling, and with an open chest in which you can see his beating heart. The mother changed the dressing regularly and remained patient and hopeful. Do you know what happened after that? Before I inform you, what do you think are the prospects of a child who has passed through all these dangers, agonies, and diseases? And what do you expect this patient mother to do whose child is at the brink of the grave and who is unable to do anything except supplicate and beseech ALLAH? Do you know what happened two and a half months later? The boy was completely cured by the mercy of ALLAH and as a reward for this pious mother. He now races his mother with his feet as if nothing happened and he became sound and healthy as he was before.

The story doesn’t end here. This is not what moved me and brought tears to my eyes. What filled my eyes with tears is what follows:

One and a half years after the child left the hospital, one of the brothers from the Operations Unit informed me that a man, his wife and two children wanted to see me. I asked who they were and he replied that he didn’t know them. So I went to see them, and I found the parents of the same child whom I operated upon. He was now five years old and like a flower in good health – as if nothing happened to him. With them also was a four-month old newborn. I welcomed them kindly and then jokingly asked the father whether the newborn was the 13th or 14th child. He looked at me with an astonishing smile as if he pitied me. He then said, “This is the second child, and the child upon whom you operated is our first born, bestowed upon us after 17 years of infertility. And after being granted that child, he was afflicted with the conditions that you’ve seen.”

At hearing this, I couldn't control myself and my eyes filled with tears. I then involuntarily grabbed the man by the arm, and pulling him to my room, asked him about his wife: “Who is this wife of yours who after 17 years of infertility has this much patience with all the fatal conditions that afflict her first born?! Her heart cannot be barren! It must be fertile with Imaan!”Do you know what he said? Listen carefully my dear brothers and sisters. He said, “I was married to this woman for 19 years and for all these years she has never missed the [late] night prayers except due to an authorized excuse. I have never witnessed her backbiting, gossiping, or lying. Whenever I leave home or return, she opens the door, supplicates for me, and receives me hospitably. And in everything she does, she demonstrates the utmost love, care, courtesy, and compassion.” The man completed by saying, “Indeed, doctor, because of all the noble manners and affection with which she treats me, I’m shy to lift up my eyes and look at her. So I said to him: “And the likes of her truly deserve that from you.”

The End…

ALLAH says: "And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give good tidings to the patient; Who, when calamity strikes them, say, “Indeed we belong to ALLAH, and indeed to HIM we will return.” Those are the ones upon whom are blessings from their Lord and mercy. And it is those who are the [rightly] guided. (Surah Al-Baqarah 155-157)"

via Telegram channel, And if you turn away, He will replace you.

#sabr #īmān #tawheed #Surah Baqarah

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 4 years

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6th June >> Mass Readings (USA)

Saturday, Ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Saint Norbert, Bishop

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Saturday, Ninth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green)

First Reading

2 Timothy 4:1-8

I am already being poured out and the crown of righteousness awaits me which the Lord will award to me.

Beloved: I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who will judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingly power: proclaim the word; be persistent whether it is convenient or inconvenient; convince, reprimand, encourage through all patience and teaching. For the time will come when people will not tolerate sound doctrine but, following their own desires and insatiable curiosity, will accumulate teachers and will stop listening to the truth and will be diverted to myths. But you, be self-possessed in all circumstances; put up with hardship; perform the work of an evangelist; fulfill your ministry.

For I am already being poured out like a libation, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith. From now on the crown of righteousness awaits me, which the Lord, the just judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me, but to all who have longed for his appearance.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 71:8-9, 14-15ab, 16-17, 22

R/ I will sing of your salvation.

My mouth shall be filled with your praise,

with your glory day by day.

Cast me not off in my old age;

as my strength fails, forsake me not.

R/ I will sing of your salvation.

But I will always hope

and praise you ever more and more.

My mouth shall declare your justice,

day by day your salvation.

R/ I will sing of your salvation.

I will treat of the mighty works of the Lord;

O God, I will tell of your singular justice.

O God, you have taught me from my youth,

and till the present I proclaim your wondrous deeds.

R/ I will sing of your salvation.

So will I give you thanks with music on the lyre,

for your faithfulness, O my God!

I will sing your praises with the harp,

O Holy One of Israel!

R/ I will sing of your salvation.

Gospel Acclamation

Matthew 5:3

Alleluia, alleluia.

Blessed are the poor in spirit;

for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Mark 12:38-44

This poor widow has given more than all others.

In the course of his teaching Jesus said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to go around in long robes and accept greetings in the marketplaces, seats of honor in synagogues, and places of honor at banquets. They devour the houses of widows and, as a pretext, recite lengthy prayers. They will receive a very severe condemnation.”

He sat down opposite the treasury and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, “Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

—————————

Saint Norbert, Bishop

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Ezekiel 34:11-16

As a shepherd tends his flock so will I tend my sheep.

Thus says the Lord God: I myself will look after and tend my sheep. As a shepherd tends his flock when he finds himself among his scattered sheep, so will I tend my sheep. I will rescue them from every place where they were scattered when it was cloudy and dark. I will lead them out from among the peoples and gather them from the foreign lands; I will bring them back to their own country and pasture them upon the mountains of Israel in the land’s ravines and all its inhabited places. In good pastures will I pasture them, and on the mountain heights of Israel shall be their grazing ground. There they shall lie down on good grazing ground, and in rich pastures shall they be pastured on the mountains of Israel. I myself will pasture my sheep; I myself will give them rest, says the Lord God. The lost I will seek out, the strayed I will bring back, the injured I will bind up, the sick I will heal, but the sleek and the strong I will destroy, shepherding them rightly.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 23:1-3a, 4, 5, 6

R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

In verdant pastures he gives me repose;

Beside restful waters he leads me;

he refreshes my soul.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

Even though I walk in the dark valley

I fear no evil; for you are at my side

With your rod and your staff

that give me courage.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

You spread the table before me

in the sight of my foes;

You anoint my head with oil;

my cup overflows.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

Only goodness and kindness follow me

all the days of my life;

And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord

for years to come.

R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

Gospel Acclamation

Matthew 5:3

Alleluia, alleluia.

Blessed are the poor in spirit;

for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Luke 14:25-33

Everyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.

Great crowds were traveling with Jesus, and he turned and addressed them, “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. Which of you wishing to construct a tower does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if there is enough for its completion? Otherwise, after laying the foundation and finding himself unable to finish the work the onlookers should laugh at him and say, ‘This one began to build but did not have the resources to finish.’ Or what king marching into battle would not first sit down and decide whether with ten thousand troops he can successfully oppose another king advancing upon him with twenty thousand troops? But if not, while he is still far away, he will send a delegation to ask for peace terms. In the same way, everyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

———————————

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Genesis 3:9-15, 20

I will put enmity between your offspring and the offspring of the woman.

After the man, Adam, had eaten of the tree, the Lord God called to the man and asked him, “Where are you?” He answered, “I heard you in the garden; but I was afraid, because I was naked, so I hid myself.” Then he asked, “Who told you that you were naked? You have eaten, then, from the tree of which I had forbidden you to eat!” The man replied, “The woman whom you put here with me– she gave me fruit from the tree, and so I ate it.” The Lord God then asked the woman, “Why did you do such a thing?” The woman answered, “The serpent tricked me into it, so I ate it.”

Then the Lord God said to the serpent:

“Because you have done this, you shall be banned

from all the animals

and from all the wild creatures;

On your belly shall you crawl,

and dirt shall you eat

all the days of your life.

I will put enmity between you and the woman,

and between your offspring and hers;

He will strike at your head,

while you strike at his heel.”

The man called his wife Eve, because she became the mother of all the living.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

1 Samuel 2:1, 4-5, 6-7, 8abcd

R/ My heart exults in the Lord, my Savior.

“My heart exults in the Lord,

my horn is exalted in my God.

I have swallowed up my enemies;

I rejoice in my victory.”

R/ My heart exults in the Lord, my Savior.

“The bows of the mighty are broken,

while the tottering gird on strength.

The well-fed hire themselves out for bread,

while the hungry batten on spoil.

The barren wife bears seven sons,

while the mother of many languishes.”

R/ My heart exults in the Lord, my Savior.

“The Lord puts to death and gives life;

he casts down to the nether world;

he raises up again.

The Lord makes poor and makes rich,

he humbles, he also exalts.”

R/ My heart exults in the Lord, my Savior.

“He raises the needy from the dust;

from the dung heap he lifts up the poor,

To seat them with nobles

and make a glorious throne their heritage.”

R/ My heart exults in the Lord, my Savior.

Gospel Acclamation

cf. Luke 1:28

Alleluia, alleluia.

Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you;

blessed are you among women.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

cf. Luke 1:45

Alleluia, alleluia.

Blessed are you, O Virgin Mary, who believed

that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

cf. Luke 2:19

Alleluia, alleluia.

Blessed is the Virgin Mary who kept the word of God

and pondered it in her heart.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

Luke 11:28

Alleluia, alleluia.

Blessed are those who hear the word of God

and observe it.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia.

Blessed are you, holy Virgin Mary, deserving of all praise;

from you rose the sun of justice, Christ our God.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia.

Blessed are you, O Virgin Mary;

without dying you won the martyr’s crown

beneath the Cross of the Lord.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Either:

Gospel

Matthew 1:1-16, 18-23

For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her.

The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.

Abraham became the father of Isaac, Isaac the father of Jacob, Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers. Judah became the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar. Perez became the father of Hezron, Hezron the father of Ram, Ram the father of Amminadab. Amminadab became the father of Nahshon, Nahshon the father of Salmon, Salmon the father of Boaz, whose mother was Rahab. Boaz became the father of Obed, whose mother was Ruth. Obed became the father of Jesse, Jesse the father of David the king.

David became the father of Solomon, whose mother had been the wife of Uriah. Solomon became the father of Rehoboam, Rehoboam the father of Abijah, Abijah the father of Asaph. Asaph became the father of Jehoshaphat, Jehoshaphat the father of Joram, Joram the father of Uzziah. Uzziah became the father of Jotham, Jotham the father of Ahaz, Ahaz the father of Hezekiah. Hezekiah became the father of Manasseh, Manasseh the father of Amos, Amos the father of Josiah. Josiah became the father of Jechoniah and his brothers at the time of the Babylonian exile.

After the Babylonian exile, Jechoniah became the father of Shealtiel, Shealtiel the father of Zerubbabel, Zerubbabel the father of Abiud. Abiud became the father of Eliakim, Eliakim the father of Azor, Azor the father of Zadok. Zadok became the father of Achim, Achim the father of Eliud, Eliud the father of Eleazar. Eleazar became the father of Matthan, Matthan the father of Jacob, Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary. Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ.

Now this is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about. When his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found with child through the Holy Spirit. Joseph her husband, since he was a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame, decided to divorce her quietly. Such was his intention when, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet:

Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son,

and they shall name him Emmanuel,

which means “God is with us.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

Matthew 1:18-23

For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her.

This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about. When his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found with child through the Holy Spirit. Joseph her husband, since he was a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame, decided to divorce her quietly. Such was his intention when, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet:

Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son,

and they shall name him Emmanuel,

which means “God is with us.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23

Take the child and his mother and flee to Egypt.

When the magi had departed, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Rise, take the child and his mother, flee to Egypt, and stay there until I tell you. Herod is going to search for the child to destroy him.” Joseph rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed for Egypt. He stayed there until the death of Herod, that what the Lord had said through the prophet might be fulfilled, Out of Egypt I called my son.

When Herod had died, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, “Rise, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who sought the child’s life are dead.” He rose, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go back there. And because he had been warned in a dream, he departed for the region of Galilee. He went and dwelt in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, He shall be called a Nazorean.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

Matthew 12:46-50

Stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he said, here are my mother and my brothers.

While Jesus was speaking to the crowds, his mother and his brothers appeared outside, wishing to speak with him. Someone told him, “Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, asking to speak with you.” But he said in reply to the one who told him, “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?” And stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my heavenly Father is my brother, and sister, and mother.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

Luke 1:26-38

Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son.

The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary. And coming to her, he said, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.” But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his Kingdom there will be no end.” But Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” And the angel said to her in reply, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God. And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren; for nothing will be impossible for God.” Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

Luke 1:39-47

Blessed is she who believed.

Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the infant leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, cried out in a loud voice and said, “Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”

And Mary said:

“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord;

my spirit rejoices in God my savior.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

Luke 2:1-14

She gave birth to her firstborn son.

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that the whole world should be enrolled. This was the first enrollment, when Quirinius was governor of Syria. So all went to be enrolled, each to his own town. And Joseph too went up from Galilee from the town of Nazareth to Judea, to the city of David that is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David, to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. While they were there, the time came for her to have her child, and she gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

Now there were shepherds in that region living in the fields and keeping the night watch over their flock. The angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were struck with great fear. The angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was a multitude of the heavenly host with the angel, praising God and saying:

“Glory to God in the highest

and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

Luke 2:15b-19

Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.

The shepherds said to one another, “Let us go, then, to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went in haste and found Mary and Joseph and the infant lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known the message that had been told them about this child. All who heard it were amazed by what had been told them by the shepherds. And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

Luke 2:27-35

You yourself a sword will pierce.

Simeon came in the Spirit into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus to perform the custom of the law in regard to him, he took him into his arms and blessed God, saying:

“Lord, now let your servant go in peace;

your word has been fulfilled;

my own eyes have seen the salvation

which you prepared in the sight of every people:

a light to reveal you to the nations

and the glory of your people Israel.”

The child’s father and mother were amazed at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted and you yourself a sword will pierce so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

Luke 2:41-52

Your father and I have been looking for you.

Each year Jesus’ parents went to Jerusalem for the feast of Passover, and when he was twelve years old, they went up according to festival custom. After they had completed its days, as they were returning, the boy Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Thinking that he was in the caravan, they journeyed for a day and looked for him among their relatives and acquaintances, but not finding him, they returned to Jerusalem to look for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions, and all who heard him were astounded at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him, they were astonished, and his mother said to him, “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.” And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” But they did not understand what he said to them. He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart. And Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and favor before God and man.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

Luke 11:27-28

Blessed is the womb that carried you.

While Jesus was speaking, a woman from the crowd called out and said to him, “Blessed is the womb that carried you and the breasts at which you nursed.” He replied, “Rather, blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

John 2:1-11

The mother of Jesus was there.

There was a wedding in Cana at Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the wedding. When the wine ran short, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, how does your concern affect me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servers, “Do whatever he tells you.” Now there were six stone water jars there for Jewish ceremonial washings, each holding twenty to thirty gallons. Jesus told them, “Fill the jars with water.” So they filled them to the brim. Then he told them, “Draw some out now and take it to the headwaiter.” So they took it. And when the headwaiter tasted the water that had become wine, without knowing where it came from although the servers who had drawn the water knew, the headwaiter called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves good wine first, and then when people have drunk freely, an inferior one; but you have kept the good wine until now.” Jesus did this as the beginning of his signs in Cana in Galilee and so revealed his glory, and his disciples began to believe in him.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

or:

Gospel

John 19:25-27

Behold, your son. Behold, your mother.

Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his home.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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dearestmichaella · 5 years

Text

Why I Want to Become a Good Doctor

Today, we just had our ward discussion with our consultant regarding the patient we saw last last week (Feb 13) in Pasay City General Hospital with our main clinical impression of stroke. He is a 74/M, obtunded, not oriented to time, place and person, non-coherent, non-fluent with dysphasia and dysphonia. GCS 9. If you are from the medicine world, you will probably have a picture of him on your mind most especially about the severity of his presentation. In simpler words, he is most of the time sleeping but whenever he is awake, it’s as if he is confused and not really receptive about the things happening around him. He only conveys his message through moaning most especially if he is feeling any pain in his body. The consultant in our ward discussion is somehow strict but in a constructive way. I find it helpful because he wants us to learn through his clinical experiences. What he usually do is he have our index cards, each with our name on it, calls a random person to present each part of the case. He would ask anything under the sun and we will be graded on that. I usually try to peek on what he is writing in our index cards but he has these random codes. He has his phone on his side with a random series of numbers, he looks at it every time we answer and then he writes it in our index cards. There’s random letters, series of numbers that somehow made me felt like it’s as if a morse code (or maybe it really is?! ty parasite for letting me appreciate morse codes ahhaha). He also focuses on what we really think as doctors as to diagnosis, differentials and therapeutics.

I really enjoy studying for any case discussions but only when I transferred to a new school. In my previous school where I went in, there’s no much time learning everything. Now that my new school has a different approach on activities like this, it gives me more time reading my medical books. It thrills me finding and getting answers on questions I have on my mind. So I must say prior to our ward discussion a while ago, I really really studied hard. My friend who is also part of the group asked me why I gave so much effort studying for this even on the smallest details. I also asked myself the same question especially during times of frustration and tiredness. I can just actually sleep the rest of the night or perhaps study for other subjects I need to. Last night got me thinking and I just assumed that maybe, I am just like this. I just really wanna know more and I hate myself for that.

Why do I really study hard?

My father whom I loved so much despite and in spite, had a stroke when I was just a first yr med student, supposedly 2nd yr but I got irregular. I only had the basics back then - anatomy, physiology, physical diagnosis & etc. When my father presented with right sided numbness of his upper ext progressing to lower ext, I thought of stroke but not with much conviction. Papa claims that maybe he excessively strained his muscles when he was doing some chores. Papa is generally healthy, not even hypertensive with no known heart problems. Although he is a smoker. We immediately consulted to a physician, an Internist-Cardiologist, whom I can say is good since he has a specialty. He is also affiliated with good hospitals around the metro. Our consult took only for more or less 5 minutes, asked what’s Papa’s chief complaint, took his BP, typed something on his computer, gave us a request for some labs and CT scan. We had it done but results from the hospital takes days and the doctor was clear that he cannot say anything at the moment without the labs and ancillaries. We had a follow up 3 days after, the CT scan was cleared. At that time, I was already nervous I even asked the doctor if we should be referred to a neurologist or if we should just go to ER dept of the hospital cause it might be stroke to which he just replied with, “I need to first the duplex scan but if you wish to consult a neuro, you may do so.” Having said that, my dad who found me so annoying that I am insisting to consult a neuro, trusted the doctor that it could be something else. Because again, who am I compared to a specialist. I understand Papa, he was also scared because who wouldn’t it be. But that night, I talked to him with my book on the side, did some neurologic test, in which there are some that he cannot do. I convinced him finally to see a neurologist despite his normal CT scan. The next morning we went to a neurologist and the doctor said it could be a stroke based on his presentation and he needs to be confined immediately. I was devastated.

Papa is okay now though, to the lay what he had is just a mild stroke (medically, there’s no, mild stroke). What he had is an ischemic stroke to brain small vessels hence the, “milder presentation”.

I found myself devastated again today most especially when our consultant a while ago was discussing about stroke. I was amazed because I didn’t expect he would share so much about “stroke” since he is an expert in Gastro. When we were sharing our differentials, he emphasized why in our case, the first think you’ll think of is stroke. Hemiparesis. One sided weakness. Even without laboratory tests/ancillaries, it’s like a bell ringing in your mind. Stroke, an acute onset of focal neurologic deficit commonly due to vascular pathology - the theoretical definition. He even gave us scenarios aside from the case we presented such as, “What if, despite thinking of stroke, patient did a CT scan and found to be normal. No history of other diseases. There’s only one sided weakness. Would you still think of it as a stroke?” It is a challenging question on what should be the next best step for the patient. My classmates were answering - MRI could be requested but Doc asked, “What if the patient doesn't want to do an MRI anymore due to financial problem or what if the patient got mad cause you as doctor said that the CT scan is enough to confirm it’s stroke.” I was just listening, deeply. It is a question not seen on books but often seen in a clinical setting. Moreover, I remembered Papa. Doc said then that it should be a pertinent negative, meaning from there you would think that probably the stroke is ischemic rather hemorrhagic which usually presents in a CT scan, at least days after. The next best step is to administer immediately treatment because again, with stroke, timing is everything.

I did not expect that after this case discussion, I will have the answer to my friend’s question, “Why do I really study hard?”. The answer was simple, deep down in my heart, I want to become a good doctor. I want to save people, more so my family in times of like this. I don’t wanna become the cardiologist who saw my father twice and didn’t give much importance to what my Papa’s feeling. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame him but I am certain I felt like he wasn’t at his best when he saw Papa for whatever reason I don’t know of. Imagine how many patients are being seen by doctors who doesn’t pay much attention. Our mentors would always say to us, ‘Treat all your patients as if they are your relatives.’ They say, being a doctor, is really a calling. It is true that it requires us so much time, patience, hard work, mental and emotional torture but when life and death comes into your table, as humans, what the very least thing you can do? For now, as a medical student, the very least thing that I can do is to study hard with more than I can to become the good doctor I want to be.

Maybe, it’s too idealistic of me saying I want to become a good doctor because soon in the clinical practice, there would be so much challenges. Soon, all patients would become merely cases & numbers. You can’t let all this consume you or else, you wont be at your best for your next patients. It is a situation we can’t help from happening. But why does it seem wrong or hard to become human in a situation we need to be one?

As doctors who have been through a lot. We are made out of the extremes of the extremes situation that humbled us to become more human. And for us to treat another human, we have first to become one.

May I be, when the time comes of burn out and verge of giving up, reminded of this - on why I want to become a good doctor. And hopefully, soon, even I know it’s a long way to go, become one. With God’s grace.

*this blog is made out of tears and extreme passion*

#med school #dreams

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historyman101 · 5 years

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Time to leave the nest.

I think I speak for everyone when I say that, regardless of how you view Eureka 7: AO or Hi-Evolution, the community is not what it once was. I’m not going to make this a diatribe about what’s wrong with Hi-Evo (since my friends and I dissected it quite thoroughly in the podcast) or AO or even PFOR, but I will say that the lackluster reception of Hi-Evo has doused a lot of the passion this community once had, or at least it played a role.

As I’ve said in the podcast and elsewhere, I’ve been a part of the Eureka 7 fan community really ever since it first aired in the US in 2006. I’m what you would call an OG. I’ve been here since the very beginning, and I’ve seen so much happen to this beloved IP and this community, not all of it good.

When I joined the tumblr scene in 2012 when AO was airing, there was still a high level of enthusiasm and energy in the community. Even if AO wasn’t well-received by many, we still had the motivation to do some great things. The passion people had was really inspiring, and it was a major factor in me continuing my historical fanfiction series. Knowing people still cared about what I wrote kept me going. I’ve said this a million times, but to all those people who followed me and kept up with my historical series, thank you so very much. I wouldn’t have finished it without you.

As I was writing my historical series, other people made great contributions as well. Artists on tumblr made fanart that is still well-loved to this day. Users made and shared remixes of classic E7 songs. We organized weekly chats and Secret Santa events each Christmas. Some of us even tried to make a visual novel based on Eureka 7. To me, that is nothing short of remarkable.

As time went on, interest died down. It’s only natural that people would fall away from it. By the time 2017 rolled around, I was well aware that enthusiasm was waning and, as I’ve said before, were it not for Hi-Evolution being announced, I would have quietly made my exit from the community upon completion of my fanfiction series. That’s not to say I was bitter about it, either; I figured it was the best course of action since I made it clear in past anonymous asks that I wasn’t going to add more to the fandom once it was done.

When Hi-Evolution was announced, I was initially excited. The community went through a brief resurgence as hopes ran high. There was a genuine belief that this would be the franchise’s saving grace. I thought this was a chance to rekindle interest and learn from past mistakes.

Boy, was I wrong.

All the hopes I had were shattered at Otakon, and while I can only speak from my own perspective, it seems like Hi-Evo 2 as well as the delay of Hi-Evo 3 killed any remaining interest in the fandom. Instead, it’s left a splintered community, one where people no longer have the enthusiasm to write fanfics, make fanart, or even do special collaborative projects like the visual novel.

Many of the friends I made in the community tell me point blank that they are either fed up with the franchise entirely or are done after Hi-Evolution 3. If people are saying that, then I genuinely fear we are facing the death of a once-proud, tightly-knit community. And that makes me beyond sad.

I know I come off as abrasive and some people sling the word “hater” at me for my opinions, but people who know me will tell you that I’m only speaking from a place of love for Eureka 7. For all the problems I have with Hi-Evolution and the franchise writ large, I don’t want to live in a world where this anime doesn’t exist. It made me into an anime fan. I have made some of my closest friends through this, some of whom I still keep in contact with to this day.

I believe the bonds we make are stronger than whatever Bones throws our way, but I can’t help feeling saddened that the thing which united us is now turning us against each other. If the sometimes vitriolic asks I’ve received and the horror stories we shared in the podcast are any indication, the fandom is split, possibly beyond repair. We’ve reached the stage where you can’t have a conflicting opinion and be treated with respect anymore; instead, you’re viewed as the enemy. A hater. A troll whose views should be discounted.

If you voice anything other than a positive opinion about anything E7-related, be it AO, the manga, the games, or Hi-Evolution, you’re shut down and cast out. It’s not enough to just like E7; now, we all have to be comfortable and build a hugbox. That’s not the message E7 originally imparted.

Eureka 7 is a show about accepting reality in all its ugliness. Anyone who has watched the anime knows it can be very uncomfortable at times. Some moments are hard to sit through, but that’s the whole point. Renton had to learn the hard way that the life he dreamed of was just that: a dream. The people he looked up to weren’t the idealized heroes he thought they were. The world is ugly, and he had to accept that. I think we need to take the same approach when looking at this franchise.

It’s okay to dislike Hi-Evolution, AO, or anything else that’s come after the original. Fuck, the original isn’t perfect by any stretch. What anime is? What’s not okay is to disrespect others for a differing opinion or (in my case) harassing them. I hardly think that’s the message Eureka 7 wanted to leave its viewers.

What makes me sad is that it was never like this before. Even in the AO days, people were willing to let it all go. We still had fun together because we thought that the bonds we made were more important than a show that didn’t turn out well. But something changed between then and now. I don’t even know what, but the community and how it dealt with differing views changed. And I don’t like what it’s become.

Now, our community is all but dead. Not just on Tumblr, but everywhere I go, the story is the same. When Hi-Evo was announced, the Subreddit was abuzz with activity and excitement. Now, it’s practically a ghost town. The Discord server, which I left some time ago, has gone the way of disco according to all my friends. I think it’s because many of us are just bitter about what’s happened or are fed up. I’m not surprised people have gotten bored with Eureka 7; I have too.

To be perfectly honest, I wish Hi-Evo was never made. It would have been better if our fandom just slowly faded away from inactivity instead of splitting into ever smaller, squabbling camps. At least then it would have ended on a positive, happy note. Now, based on everything I’ve seen, heard, and read, it’s ending on a note of bitterness. It’s doubly sad, because Eureka 7 is optimism: the anime.

So where am I going with all of this? I don’t know. Honestly, I just wanted to vent because I needed to get this off my chest. It’s been a drain to watch something I loved and cherished for so long slowly fall to pieces and the friends I once had in this fandom turn against each other.

Eureka 7 has been such a touchstone in my life for so long that to see it crumble away like this is heartbreaking. Revisiting this franchise’s fall from grace just leaves me depressed. It’s like a blood-sucking vampire, and I can’t fucking take it anymore.

That’s why this is my last post about Eureka 7.

As much as you guys think it’s interesting, I can’t keep doing this. I don’t have the patience to wait until 2021 for the final film, and I don’t suspect many others do, either. I don’t care if it will be all hand-drawn; I’m sick and tired of even talking about it. It’s like I’m beating up a disabled person; nothing I say is going to change what we’ve already gotten or alter the reality of where the fanbase is now. It’s really sad, but I just need to move on from this.

Almost 15 years have passed since I first watched Eureka 7. Back then, I was just a lonely 16 year old kid trying to find out where to go in life. I will be 30 in January, I have a full-time job, my life is much more hectic now than it ever was, and it’s turned out better than I ever dreamed. Eureka 7 Hi-Evolution didn’t turn out too well, but there will be more disappointments to come, no question. Life is full of them. Why focus on them forever?

I don’t think that harping on the past is productive. Time only moves forward and it waits for no one. I have limited time on this earth, and I don’t want to spend it kicking this turd around forever. Life is too short to waste it on small things like an anime franchise that didn’t end well. I want to start the new decade fresh, and that means letting go of the things that have weighed me down.

I’m going to grab my future with my own hands. Because I learned from Eureka 7 a seminal lesson that’s guided me through life:

Don’t beg for things. Do it yourself, or else you won’t get anything.

#eureka seven #eureka 7 #eureka 7 hi-evolution #e7hievo #anime #favorite anime #favorite character #e7 #i can't keep doing this #I need to move on

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lovecatalog · 4 years

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D25-D28

Esther 9:1-10, Joshua 21:44; 23:9, 1 Peter 2:24

The Jews... did as they pleased. They took full advantage of the opportunity to defeat their attackers, as they were allowed to do, laid no hands on the plunder. They had been given permission to take the property of those whom they conquered, but they did only what was necessary to defend themselves.

God’s people were on the road to annihilation, but then the opposite happens and they change places with their enemies.

Hints that God is still working behind the scene:

1. Everyone was afraid of the Jews. (not just the people, but also the power of their God)

2. “No one could stand against them” points back to the OT, to God as the one fighting for His people and giving “all their enemies into their hands”.

Joshua 21:44 talks about how all of God’s good promises has all came to pass -- The Lord has been utterly true to his good promises.

To think about it, we are all also saved by an ultimate reversal. When the king of the Jews is hung on a cross, it may look like Satan has won but by His stripes, we are healed, by His nail pierced hands, we’re free, by his blood, we’re washed clean, now we have the victory, He defeated the great enemy and opens the way to eternal life.

Qn1. Why is it that everyone, including you and I, are on the road to death and destruction (Romans 5:12)? How are we delivered from the penalty and power of sin (1 Peter 2:23)? Praise God that in Jesus, we too can enjoy a wonderful reversal.

According to Romans 5:12, sin came into the world through one man, Adam and death through sin. Death is “the last enemy” and will be conquered forever at Christ’s return. “Death” in these verse would mean both physical and spiritual death. We have all sin would mean that we have all participated in Adam’s sin because he represented all who would descend from him.

But also, look at it in another way, this is just as Christ’s obedience counts for all his followers. In 1 Peter 2:23, it is a crucial verse that emphasises on Christ sinlessness and his substitutionary death for sinners.

We are delivered from the penalty and power of sin when we realised that it is through Christ obedience, we are saved. Yet that does not allow us to sin further.

Hebrews 10:26-31 NIV

“If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left, but only a fearful expectation of judgment and of raging fire that will consume the enemies of God. Anyone who rejected the law of Moses died without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses. How much more severely do you think someone deserves to be punished who has trampled the Son of God underfoot, who has treated as an unholy thing the blood of the covenant that sanctified them, and who has insulted the Spirit of grace? For we know him who said, “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” and again, “The Lord will judge his people.” It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.”

Christ’s obedience should impact us in a way where we would also do the same for God, knowing that because Christ power now lives in us, how Jesus overcame every single thing, we too possess the same power to do so. Knowing at the end of the day we would be reunited with Christ once again, we can hang in there and persevere till the end.

Qn2. Consider your own deliverance from Satan, sin, and death. Where in this can you identify God’s fingerprints?

Relationship, indulge in the worldly affections but now i know that Christ love lives in me, I no longer seek my identity and love from the world but instead I allow God’s will to be done by seeking Him time and again when I catch myself falling into such a pit hole.

Esther 9:11-16, Romans 12:19, Hebrews 2:14-16

“tomorrow also”, because probably there were still armed men in Susa committed to carrying out the first edict. The ten sons of Haman were hanged. In keeping with Persian royal practice, the king wipes out the conspirator’s family publicly, to prevent further trouble.

Relief and peace can only be experienced if the enemy is completely removed.

Now the Jews can celebrate relief from enemies and the fear of death because of their deliverance.

Reminded of Mordecai’s being a mouthpiece to God’s words “relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise” (Esther 4:14)

Qn1. Are we sometimes tempted to take revenge? What advice does Paul give us (Romans 12:19)?

Romans 12:19 actually talks about how we should not repay evil, Jesus’s teaching said that vengeance (punishment) is his. But i think actually alot of times we downplay the word “revenge”, we look at it in a way whereby it is an eye for an eye, which means doing the same thing back to the person but alot of times, revenge comes in different forms, it can be doing a different thing to obtain the same result to someone.

eg. lowkey justifying ourselves and causing our classmates to think we are actually the innocent side etc...

And yes of course we are always tempted, sometimes we don’t even realised that we are tempted, it just subconsciously comes out of our mouth so naturally, and this is why we always reflect on what we do to realised our true motivation behind our actions. Why is it so self-seeking and self-justifying when we have our Lord, our God on our side to justify for us? Could it be we actually don’t put our full trust in God? If so, how can we learn to trust in God better?

If you are interested and willing to walk and journey in this walk, would be nice for you guys to tell me about it one to one when we meet so I can journey with you guys in your very personalised walk. (: I’m sure it’ll be worth it!

Qn2. Do you fear death? If so, why? As Christians, why is it that we can live a life free from the fear of death (Hebrews 2:14-16)?

NOOOO, actually I don’t fear death because God ultimately rules over life and death, He has the power even though Satan claims it.

I think for me i fear more of the opportunities I missed out on telling the people around me how much I love and cherish them, the opportunities for special memories with my loved ones before it is too late. That would mean i should live everyday with a new found purpose for God’s kingdom and not just wasting my days away.

Esther 9:17-22, Exodus 15, Judges 5, Colossians 1:9-14, 1 Peter 1:8

These two different dates arose for celebrating the deliverance of the Jews. In rural areas the fighting was completed on the thirteenth day of Adar, so they celebrated on the fourteenth.

But in Susa, it did not finish until the fourteenth, so they celebrated on the fifteenth. The celebration was still occurring on this date when Esther was written.

God’s deliverance is such an important event, they made sure all members of God’s community can celebrate, not just the wealthy by sharing food. God’s deliverance always brings about “happiness”, “joy” or “gladness.

As Christians, we too should live a life bursting with gladness and joy! We too have been delivered!

We should celebrate in trials and struggles because we know that God is on out side, yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Qn1. Meditate on Colossians 1:9-14. What has God delivered or rescued us from? How should we live our lives in response?

Colossians 1:9-14

For this reason, since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you. We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his wills through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light. For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

God has delivered and rescued us form our old self, our spiritual being is now no longer dead but filled with the Holy Spirit. This will then lead to changed lives, with the wisdom and understanding, it will enable us to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord. (to walk, meaning to conduct and behave oneself).

We are called to walk in a way fully pleasing to the Lord Jesus Christ. Christians are completely justified from the moment of initial saving faith, but we can do things that either please or displease God everyday, (bearing fruit and increasing)

And in this, God has given us “all power” for all endurance and patience with joy. He has given us power to help us continue in the faith, resisting temptations and deceitful teachers in our life and to know the joy of the Lord.

We are no longer who we were, each and every day it is a dying to self to Christ, we are buried with God in baptism and raised with him, how Christ died and rose again symbolises how we have the power against sin and satan as well as strength to live a new life.

Qn2. Do people more often describe you as grumpy and mournful or happy and joyful? Read 1 Peter 1:8. How can we be “filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy”?

HAPPY & JOYFUL hahah.

1 Peter 1:8

Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy,

9:23-32

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pamphletstoinspire · 5 years

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Prodigal Son Sunday: 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time

This past Sunday marks one of only two times in the main Lectionary cycle that we hear the Parable of the Prodigal Son proclaimed (the other being the 4th Sunday of Lent Cycle - [C]). The Readings are marked by the theme of repentance and forgiveness.

1. Our First Reading is Ex 32:7-11, 13-14:

The LORD said to Moses, “Go down at once to your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt, for they have become depraved. They have soon turned aside from the way I pointed out to them, making for themselves a molten calf and worshiping it, sacrificing to it and crying out, ‘This is your God, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt!’ “I see how stiff-necked this people is, ” continued the LORD to Moses. Let me alone, then, that my wrath may blaze up against them to consume them. Then I will make of you a great nation.”

The context of this First Reading is immediately after the “Golden Calf” incident. To recap, God had sent Moses to the Israelites as they were enslaved in Egypt, and through might miracles brought them out of Egypt and into the Sinai desert, to Mount Sinai itself, where he entered into a solemn covenant with them (Exod 19-24, esp. ch. 24). A covenant is the extension of kinship by oath, so God’s covenant with Israel at Sinai (Exod 24) formed Israel into God’s children, his family. A blood ritual solemnized the covenant, as Moses splashed blood on both God’s altar and the people, symbolizing that God and the people were now one blood. But the blood ceremony also had a more ominous symbolism: “if I break the covenant, may my blood be shed, like this shed blood now being splashed on me.”

Forty days later, while Moses was on Mt. Sinai receiving instructions for the building of the Tabernacle, the people of Israel defected from the covenant and broke their whole relationship with God. They built themselves an idol of a bull calf, probably representing the Egyptian god Apis whom they had once worshiped along the banks of the Nile. By breaking the covenant, they triggered on themselves the curse-meaning of the blood of the covenant: “may my blood be shed if I break my commitment…” That is why God says, “Let me alone … that my wrath may … consume them.” It is not the loss of God’s temper. It is God enforcing the terms of the covenant, which He is bound in justice to do. God tests Moses in this situation, creating the opportunity for Moses to intercede for the people, the opportunity for Moses to be like Christ. God says, “I will make of you a great nation.” This was the promise given to Abraham (Gen 12:2) so long ago. Thus, God is offering to “rewind” salvation history and start over with Moses as a new Abraham.

But Moses implored the LORD, his God, saying, “Why, O LORD, should your wrath blaze up against your own people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt with such great power and with so strong a hand? Remember your servants Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, and how you swore to them by your own self, saying, ‘I will make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky; and all this land that I promised, I will give your descendants as their perpetual heritage.’” So the LORD relented in the punishment he had threatened to inflict on his people.

Moses rises to the opportunity to be a Christ-like intercessor for the people of God. Moses’ main argument is significant: “Remember your servant(s) Abraham … how you swore to them by your own self…” There is only one place earlier in Scripture where God explicitly swears by his own self, and that is Genesis 22:15-18, the great oath which God swears to Abraham after Abraham offers to God his “only begotten son” (RSVCE2). That is the great passage of the near-sacrifice of Isaac, called “the Aqedah” (“the Binding [of Isaac]”) in the Jewish tradition. It is the most important type or foreshadowing of Calvary in the Old Testament. One might just call it “the Calvary of the Old Testament.” It is crucial to recognize that at this pivotal moment in the history of God’s people, where they face deserved destruction for apostasy from God, Moses’ succeeds in his intercession by pleading Calvary, by appealing to the covenant that was re-affirmed after the willing sacrifice of the “only begotten son.” God affirms the validity of Moses’ appeal, and “relents” from punishment. God knew in his foreknowledge that he would do this, but he chose to include Moses in his plan of mercy for Israel, allowing Moses to take an active role in the administration of God’s forgiveness. He does this for us, too.

2. The Responsorial Psalm is Ps 51:3-4, 12-13, 17, 19:

R. (Lk 15:18) I will rise and go to my father.

Have mercy on me, O God, in your goodness; in the greatness of your compassion wipe out my offense. Thoroughly wash me from my guilt and of my sin cleanse me. R. I will rise and go to my father.

A clean heart create for me, O God, and a steadfast spirit renew within me. Cast me not out from your presence, and your Holy Spirit take not from me. R. I will rise and go to my father.

O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise. My sacrifice, O God, is a contrite spirit; a heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn. R. I will rise and go to my father.

Psalm 51 is THE great psalm of repentance in the entire psalter, used in the Lectionary and the Liturgy of the Hours at those times in the Church calendar that most call for acts of contrition. Psalm 51 is attributed to David, upon the occasion of his repentance after having been rebuked by Nathan the prophet for killing Uriah and taking Bathsheba as his wife by force.

David’s words have resounded on the lips of repentant believers down through the centuries, unrivaled for bluntness and sincerity. David prays for “a clean heart” which God alone can “create” for him—it is not possible by human power. David had acted like Israel at the Golden Calf. Both David and Israel were recipients of covenants: Israel in Exodus 24, David in 2 Samuel 7. Both had the status of “sons of God” (Exod 4:22; PS 89:20-27). Both succumbed to sexual temptation (David with Bathsheba, 2 Sam 11; Israel when they “rose up to play,” a sexual euphemism Exod 32:6). Unlike Israel, David repents when rebuked. He returns to seek the LORD, whereas Israel would have continued astray had it not been for Moses. In this way, David represents an advance in spiritual understanding over against the behavior of Israel as a whole.

3. The Second Reading is 1 Tm 1:12-17:

Beloved: I am grateful to him who has strengthened me, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he considered me trustworthy in appointing me to the ministry. I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and arrogant, but I have been mercifully treated because I acted out of ignorance in my unbelief. Indeed, the grace of our Lord has been abundant, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. This saying is trustworthy and deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. Of these I am the foremost. But for that reason I was mercifully treated, so that in me, as the foremost, Christ Jesus might display all his patience as an example for those who would come to believe in him for everlasting life. To the king of ages, incorruptible, invisible, the only God, honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.

The Lectionary is marching through St. Paul’s letters to individuals right now, and last week we read from Philemon. This week we read from the beginning of his first letter to Timothy, and the selection could scarcely fit better the themes of this Sunday’s Mass. Here we are reminded that St. Paul himself—like David, like Israel—was a great offender against God, who received mercy. Paul calls himself “the foremost” of sinners. Truly the company of the saints is better thought of as the assembly of those who embraced mercy, rather than of those who never needed it.

Gospel Luke 15:1-32:

Tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to listen to Jesus, but the Pharisees and scribes began to complain, saying, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So to them he addressed this parable.

The Pharisees are offended that Jesus associates with “sinners,” not recognizing it to be a God-like trait, since God associated with sinners all through the Old Testament. In fact, Judah and his descendants included some of the worst of sinners.

“What man among you having a hundred sheep and losing one of them would not leave the ninety-nine in the desert and go after the lost one until he finds it? And when he does find it, he sets it on his shoulders with great joy and, upon his arrival home, he calls together his friends and neighbors and says to them, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep.’ I tell you, in just the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance.

“Or what woman having ten coins and losing one would not light a lamp and sweep the house, searching carefully until she finds it? And when she does find it, she calls together her friends and neighbors and says to them, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found the coin that I lost.’ In just the same way, I tell you, there will be rejoicing among the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

Jesus prefaces his great parable of the “lost son” with two smaller, down-to-earth examples from everyday life about the joy of finding something that was lost. The phrase “there will be rejoicing among the angels of God” is actually a bit of a mistranslation. It is literally, “there will be rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God.” It is not the angels who are rejoicing, per se. Someone else is rejoicing in front of the angels. Who is that? God Himself. But in keeping with Jewish piety, Jesus using circumlocutions to speak of the divine rejoicing.

Then he said, “A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, ‘Father give me the share of your estate that should come to me.’ So the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation. When he had freely spent everything, a severe famine struck that country, and he found himself in dire need. So he hired himself out to one of the local citizens who sent him to his farm to tend the swine. And he longed to eat his fill of the pods on which the swine fed, but nobody gave him any. Coming to his senses he thought, ‘How many of my father’s hired workers have more than enough food to eat, but here am I, dying from hunger. I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.”’ So he got up and went back to his father. While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him. His son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.’ But his father ordered his servants, ‘Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.’ Then the celebration began. Now the older son had been out in the field and, on his way back, as he neared the house, he heard the sound of music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what this might mean. The servant said to him, ‘Your brother has returned and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’ He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out and pleaded with him. He said to his father in reply, ‘Look, all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends. But when your son returns, who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for him you slaughter the fattened calf.’ He said to him, ‘My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’”

This parable may be read in two ways. On the basic level, it is a story of forgiveness and reconciliation that teaches us about the character of God and his love for sinners. On a secondary level, it is a parable about the history of Israel. Israel divided into two kingdoms: the northern kingdom of “Ephraim” (the adopted youngest son of Jacob) and the southern kingdom of “Judah” (the son of Jacob who inherited the rights of the oldest son). Ephraim went astray and was taken into exile by Assyria (a far country). Judah, however, was only exiled for 70 years and then returned to stay by God’s “side” in the land of Israel. However, in the end it is “Ephraim” who returns to embrace God, while “Judah” resents God’s mercy.

This fits a theme through Luke-Acts, in which Luke shows that Samaritans (direct descendants of the northern kingdom “Ephraim”) and Gentiles (among whom other northern Israelites had assimilated) respond to the offer of God’s forgiveness in the Gospel, whereas the “Judeans”, descendants of southern Judah, resist the Gospel out of pride, and resent the Christian offer of a the “new covenant” to Samaritan and Gentile “sinners.”

Today’s Gospel speaks to us in two practical ways, depending on which “son” we are. Some of us at Mass this Sunday are the younger son, who have been going astray rather self-consciously. We “younger sons” need to be reassured of God’s forgivness. We need to pick up and leave the pig slop we’ve been wallowing in (whether that be substance abuse, porn, financial corruption, promiscuity, manipulation, etc.) and return to God, who is waiting to embrace us.

[Let us notice that the Father does not run after the son to the far country and pull him out of the muck. There is an act of repentance and renunciation that we must undertake before we can return to the Father. We do have to leave the pig sty.]

Others of us at Mass are the older brother. We think we are good, not in need of forgiveness, and God owes us something. We resent riff-raff hanging around, and in particular don’t want them in our churches or other places where we hang out.

We older brothers have no joy in our lives, because we really aren’t motivated by love, and don’t understand the God of love and joy. We need conversion as much as the younger son. We need to recognize “younger sons” as siblings, as family members, and share God’s joy at their repentance and reconciliation. God is not a businessman rewarding service in a tit-for-tat or quid-pro-quo manner. God is a father, who wants all his sons to share his love and joy.

From: https://www.pamphletstoinspire.com/

#24th sunday in ordinary time

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