#he's my beloved my sun in the sky my north-point compass

[wildsaltair]

fun fact: Maximus goes with me everywhere because I carry him in my heart at all times <3

[dfroza]

Love will turn the dial back to innocence and pure trust

by moving forward with a new start, an end of what is the past (tense) to shape a new beginning.

and we have to be as children before our heavenly Father no matter what this world acts like, and this is our humility. we are not to fear man and the craziness that exists here, and this is our bravery to trust and believe. and this since this world is not our True Home, but earth is promised to be restored to fully cleanse all that has been done here.

and so for now, we have to keep letting go and keep moving on…

but also remembering the pure genesis root of how our Creator made us on earth in His image, equally as male & female to inhabit garden earth.

and we need to share these truths which is why we have these Scriptures documented.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 14th chapter of the Letter of First Corinthians where Paul describes church meetings and prayer, both in unknown tongues and language that is understood:

It is good that you are enthusiastic and passionate about spiritual gifts, especially prophecy. When someone speaks in tongues, no one understands a word he says, because he’s not speaking to people, but to God—he is speaking intimate mysteries in the Spirit. But when someone prophesies, he speaks to encourage people, to build them up, and to bring them comfort. The one who speaks in tongues advances his own spiritual progress, while the one who prophesies builds up the church. I would be delighted if you all spoke in tongues, but I desire even more that you impart prophetic revelation to others. Greater gain comes through the one who prophesies than the one who speaks in tongues, unless there is interpretation so that it builds up the entire church.

My dear friends, what good is it if I come to you always speaking in tongues? But if I come with a clear revelation from God, or with insight, or with a prophecy, or with a clear teaching, I can enrich you. Similarly, if musical instruments, such as flutes or stringed instruments, are out of tune and don’t play the arrangement clearly, how will anyone recognize the melody? If the bugle makes a garbled sound, who will recognize the signal to show up for the battle? So it is with you. Unless you speak in a language that’s easily understood, how will anyone know what you’re talking about? You might as well save your breath!

I suppose that the world has all sorts of languages, and each conveys meaning to the ones who speak it. But I am like a foreigner if I don’t understand the language, and the speaker will be like a foreigner to me. And that’s what’s happening among you. You are so passionate about embracing the manifestations of the Holy Spirit! Now become even more passionate about the things that strengthen the entire church.

So then, if you speak in a tongue, pray for the interpretation to be able to unfold the meaning of what you are saying. For if I am praying in a tongue, my spirit is engaged in prayer but I have no clear understanding of what is being said.

So here’s what I’ve concluded. I will pray in the Spirit, but I will also pray with my mind engaged. I will sing rapturous praises in the Spirit, but I will also sing with my mind engaged. Otherwise, if you are praising God in your spirit, how could someone without the gift participate by adding his “amen” to your giving of thanks, since he doesn’t have a clue of what you’re saying? Your praise to God is admirable, but it does nothing to strengthen and build up others.

I give thanks to God that I speak in tongues more than all of you, but in the church setting I would rather speak five words that can be understood than ten thousand exotic words in a tongue. That way I could have a role in teaching others.

Beloved ones, don’t remain as immature children in your reasoning. As it relates to evil, be like newborns, but in your thinking be mature adults.

For it stands written in the law:

I will bring my message to this people with strange tongues and foreign lips, yet even then they still will not listen to me, says the Lord.

So then, tongues are not a sign for believers, but a miracle for unbelievers. Prophecy, on the other hand, is not for unbelievers, but a miracle sign for believers.

If the entire church comes together and everyone is speaking in tongues, won’t the visitors say that you have lost your minds? But if everyone is prophesying, and an unbeliever or one without the gift enters your meeting, he will be convicted by all that he hears and will be called to account, for the intimate secrets of his heart will be brought to light. He will be mystified and fall facedown in worship and say, “God is truly among you!”

Beloved friends, what does all this imply? When you conduct your meetings, you should always let everything be done to build up the church family. Whether you share a song of praise, a teaching, a divine revelation, or a tongue and interpretation, let each one contribute what strengthens others.

If someone speaks in a tongue, it should be two or three, one after another, with someone interpreting. If there’s no one with the interpretation, then he should remain silent in the meeting, content to speak to himself and to God.

And the same with prophecy. Let two or three prophets prophesy and let the other prophets carefully evaluate and discern what is being said. But if someone receives a revelation while someone else is still speaking, the one speaking should conclude and allow the one with fresh revelation the opportunity to share it. For you can all prophesy in turn and in an environment where all present can be instructed, encouraged, and strengthened. The spirits of the prophets are subject to the prophets. For God is the God of harmony, not confusion, as is the pattern in all the churches of God’s holy believers.

The women should be respectfully silent during the evaluation of prophecy in the meetings. They are not allowed to interrupt, but are to be in a support role, as in fact the law teaches. If they want to inquire about something, let them ask their husbands when they get home, for a woman embarrasses herself when she constantly interrupts the church meeting.

Do you actually think that you were the starting point for the Word of God going forth? Were you the only ones it was sent to? I don’t think so! If anyone considers himself to be a prophet or a spiritual person, let him discern that what I’m writing to you carries the Lord’s authority. And if anyone continues not to recognize this, he should not be recognized!

So, beloved friends, with all this in mind, be passionate to prophesy and don’t forbid anyone from speaking in tongues, doing all things in a beautiful and orderly way.

The Letter of 1st Corinthians, Chapter 14 (The Passion Translation)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 49th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah that unveils the promise of God’s restoration:

Listen to this, everyone—near and far:

The Eternal One singled me out, even before I was born.

He called me and named me when I was still in my mother’s belly.

Even then, God was preparing my mouth to speak like a sharp sword.

He kept my purpose quiet, kept me safe in the shadow of His hand,

He crafted me into a sharp-tipped arrow and tucked me away in His quiver;

God said to me, “You are My servant, Israel.

Through you, I will be glorified.”

I said, “I’ve worked hard for nothing.

I spent my strength, and what have I accomplished—nothing,

Yet my justice and reward are secure with my God, the Eternal One.”

And now the Eternal who watched, shaped, and made me His own servant

from the womb has determined to restore Jacob’s family;

Israel will be made right with the Eternal again.

For God has counted me worthy and He has been my strength right along.

Eternal One: As My servant you will do even more than this,

even more than restoring Jacob’s family to Me

And making Israel right with Me again.

I will make you a light for the nations,

And You will illumine them until My salvation reaches to the ends of the earth.

This is what the Eternal One, the Redeemer and Holy One of Israel,

told to the one who is despised and loathed by the nation,

To the servant of national leaders.

Eternal One: At the sight of you, kings will rise and princes will bow down,

for I, the Eternal, faithful and true, the Holy One of Israel, have chosen you.

The Eternal has this to say:

Eternal One: When the time was right, I answered you;

on the day you were delivered, I was your help.

I will watch over you, and give you

as a promise, a binding covenant to the people.

Through you, My gift to the people, the land of promise will recover.

Ancestral ground, once deserted, will be entrusted to them.

Through you, My gift to the people, I will declare to the prisoners,

“Come out. Now you are free”;

To those who are held in darkness, “Come out into the light.”

They will find sustenance wherever they are—

Along the roads or in the open hills—

with peace of mind, in comfort and security.

Wherever they are, they will be fine, never hungry nor thirsty.

They will be protected from oppressive heat and the burning sun

Because the One who loves them—as a mother loves her child—will be their guide.

God will lead them to restful places, rejuvenating springs of water.

I will make their going easy, level the mountain road

and smooth the path that leads them home.

Look! Even now, they are coming from lands far away,

some from the north, others from the west, these from the land of Sinim.

Oh joy! Be glad—sky! Take joy—earth! Burst into song—mountains!

For the Eternal, moved to compassion, has comforted and consoled His people.

Zion: The Eternal One has abandoned me. God has walked out the door;

my Lord left me alone. He has forgotten all about me.

Eternal One: Is it possible for a mother, however disappointed,

however hurt, to forget her nursing child?

Can she feel nothing for the baby she carried and birthed?

Even if she could, I, God, will never forget you.

Look here. I have made you a part of Me, written you on the palms of My hands.

Your city walls are always on My mind, always My concern.

Now sweet Zion your children are running pell-mell back to you

Just as fast as those who destroyed you are leaving.

Raise your head, lift up your eyes,

and watch your heart’s desire come—

All your children, gathered and returning to you. As I live, so I promise.

You will wear them with pride all like shining ornaments;

you will put them on as a bride on her wedding day.

Because of all of your destroyed land—the barren fields and abandoned farms—

you are now too small, too cramped for all your citizens;

And those who tried to swallow you whole will be far, far away.

The children you mourned, those born in exile, will return and say,

“It is too cramped and crowded for us;

We’re going to need more room if we are to live here.”

You’ll say to yourself, “Where in the world did all these people come from?

Could these really be mine?

I thought I’d been desolated, left empty.

Where have you all been? Where did you come from?”

This is what the Lord, the Eternal, has to say:

Eternal One: I will lift My hand and signal every nation that holds your people

And they will bring your children back again:

boys bundled in their arms, girls riding on their shoulders.

Kings will tend the children of Zion, and their queens will nurse and nurture them.

These greats will humble themselves before you.

They will bow and lick the dust off your feet,

and in the course of it all, you will remember that I am the Eternal.

Whoever trusts in Me will never be put to shame.

Jerusalem: Can the spoil of war be taken from the mighty?

Can the captives be freed from the hand of a tyrant?

Eternal One: Hard to believe, but it shall be so.

The captives will be taken from the hand of the mighty,

And the spoil of war will be rescued from the tyrant.

I will liberate them from their captors and contend with your enemies.

I will save your children.

I will turn your enemies’ violence back on themselves,

and they will suffer their own atrocities:

They will feed on their own flesh and drink their own blood like wine.

Then every person on earth will know for certain that I, the Eternal, am your Savior.

I am your hero, the strong One of Jacob from whom you come.

I will rescue you, whatever the price.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 49 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

There are many kinds of love—and not enough words to tell the differences. Hebrew has a word for “love” that is related to its word for a woman’s womb. English has no such word. It is too bad, for it is difficult to describe womb-love, the bearing-and-birthing love of a mother, the kind of love that the Lord has for the people of God’s promise, Jacob’s children. God shaped this people as His own and bound them with no ordinary promise. God loves them in the same way a mother loves the child growing in her womb. It can’t be said so neatly and completely with one “love” word, but that is the idea that threads its way through this text.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, july 27 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the need of having eyes that are open to the wonders of life:

"Only watch yourself, and watch your soul diligently, lest you forget..." (Deut. 4:9a; Deut. 8:11). We are in constant and great need to remember the greatness of God, for when we forget the truth, we lose sight of who we are and why we exist... Therefore we are earnestly admonished to guard our hearts with all diligence, for from the heart flows the streams of life (Prov. 4:23). Forgetfulness leads to apathy and indulgent thinking - a sure recipe for idolatry and despair... On the other hand, as we "practice the presence" of God, we encounter daily miracles and realize that our life comes from above: "In Him we live and move and have our being" (Acts 17:28). If we do not know God in all our ways, we lose touch with the purpose for our lives. If we close our eyes to the wonders of life, we forget both their source and the source of all that exists...

C.S. Lewis related that during his college years he "played with" philosophy as way to show off or gain prestige among his fellow students. One day, however, he overheard a conversation between a Christian acquaintance who was discussing Plato's thinking with another person. As he listened, it suddenly dawned on him that they were discussing philosophy as if it really mattered, as if it could somehow change their lives. Questions about reality, truth, beauty, justice, and so on suddenly became weighty and existential - matters of life and death - and that realization marked a key point in his conversion to Christianity. [Hebrew for Christians]

7.26.21 • Facebook

and another about facing truth:

Just as grace is inaccessible for someone who refuses to be honest with himself, so is forgiveness. If a person refuses to confess the truth about his condition, salvation itself is impossible, since God literally cannot save the soul that denies its need for Him. Therefore the Scripture does not vainly declare: "Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but the one who confesses and forsakes them will find mercy" (Prov. 28:13).

A person who “conceals” his sin denies it, either by outright disavowal or by explaining it away by offering self-deceptive excuses. This person simply cannot prosper – in the spiritual sense of the word – because he is not living in reality... Indeed, his conscience is burdened with a “secret ban,” an inner voice of condemnation that must be suppressed and squelched. It is only the person who comes to the light, who acknowledges the truth of his sin and who is anxious to be free of its effects, who will be shown mercy (i.e., rachamim (רַחֲמִים), which comes from the word rechem (רֶחֶם), “womb”).

Note that God alone has the prerogative to cover or atone for sin, as an expression of His grace, but it is never fitting for someone to atone for his own sin in order to exonerate himself. God’s anger over sin is not appeased when sin is minimized, dismissed, excused, or rationalized away (though the LORD delights when we overlook the offenses of others). This is because all sin is an offense against God and represents a breach of the relationship between the sinner and God. Your sin, in other words, hurts not only yourself and other people, but most significantly, it wounds the very heart of God Himself by causing a breach or separation in your relationship with Him. Therefore we see Yeshua forgiving others for sins they have committed against other people as if He were the offended party in the sin. As C.S. Lewis once wrote, “He told people that their sins were forgiven, and never waited to consult all the other people whom their sins had undoubtedly injured. He unhesitatingly behaved as if He was the party chiefly concerned, the person chiefly offended in all offenses. This makes sense only if He really was the God whose laws are broken and whose love is wounded in every sin” (Mere Christianity, 1952).

In this evil world, it may sometimes seem that crime “pays,” but certainly not before the Divine Presence, and in the world to come, every word and deed will be fully accounted before the bar of God’s justice and truth. But even in this world, the sinner is secretly haunted by his conscience; he is driven to madness, hidden despair, and lives in dread and anxiety over the truth he conceals... It has been said that the problem with “getting away with it” is that you indeed “get away with it,” meaning that your sin will follow you as doggedly as your own shadow in this world... Ultimately sin is a form of cowardice, since it hides in fear from the light of truth. Unconfessed sin leads to anxiety, paranoia, and weakness of the soul...

I have mentioned that one of the reasons God announced the Ten Commandments was because it was His way of saying, "I know who you really are, I see you..." This is why the people drew back in terror, because they realized that God saw the inner condition of their heart, exposed it, and shined the light of moral truth upon it. Nonetheless it is a great and ongoing credit to the Jewish people that they were willing to receive the revelation at Sinai, since it demonstrates that they were genuinely willing to be honest with themselves. Despite their many subsequent failures, they still revered the truth of God’s Torah and meticulously preserved the revelation for future generations (Rom. 3:1-2).

Again, a person who denies or excuses his sin simply cannot prosper – in the spiritual sense of the word – because he refuses to live in reality... Confessing the truth about yourself – owning your behavior, taking personal responsibility, refusing to blame others, and so on, leads to real prosperity, spiritual blessing and true inner peace. [Hebrew for Christians]

7.27.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

July 27, 2021

A Debtor to Grace

“For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not.” (Romans 7:18)

All too often we find ourselves as frustrated as the apostle Paul in that we often know to do the right thing, to abstain from a particular sin, but we quickly fall right back into that sin. We must daily recognize our sinful habits and determine in our hearts, with strength from the Holy Spirit, to withstand the sin, to overcome temptation. “I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord. So then with the mind I myself serve the law of God; but with the flesh the law of sin” (Romans 7:25). The writer of “Come Thou Fount” had the same frustration.

O to grace how great a debtor daily I’m constrained to be!

Let thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love;

Here’s my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above.

Scripture tells us we are secure in Christ, never to be separated. Christ informed His disciples that “my sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father’s hand” (John 10:27-29). We are safe in Christ’s hand surrounded by the Father’s hand. And then the transaction is sealed by “the Holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption” (Ephesians 4:30).

Take courage. We are secure in Him. JDM

[ceaselessly-into-black-tea]

Yourself

Under the vast blue sky, Lucille breathed in the rich atmosphere of childhood. It was just past noon on a summer Saturday, and she was engaged in a vicious game of tag. Weaving between the various poles that supported the month-old playground, she felt a small hand clap her shoulder. She whipped around, but her attacker, a small but quick boy she knew to be called Peter, had already fled. Lucille grinned. Her time had come. Scanning her surroundings, she quickly spotted an ideal target. On the opposite side of the playground, she saw John bent over with his hands on his knees. His brown t-shirt, a size too large, flapped in the light wind. All Lucille really knew about John was that he had something called asthma, which apparently meant he could only run for a brief period of time before giving up. During games of tag, he usually claimed he was "not playing," but she knew he was lying. Nobody sits out a game of tag.

Lucille wasted no time in beginning her hunt. Kicking up a flurry of woodchips, she bounded toward her prey. She could almost see a trail of blood, sweat, and tears guiding her toward John, a wispy vapor hanging in the air. John must have felt it too, as his head shot up, and he glanced over his shoulder. Terror immediately overtook his face. Stumbling over his first step, he recovered--barely--and broke into a run. But Lucille was faster. Having closed the gap, she could make out the individual goosebumps on John's pale neck. His pace slowed as he began to wheeze. Her grin curled wider as the thrill of the hunt overtook her, and she let out a primal roar as she finally pounced upon her poor, defenseless prey.

In her raging bloodlust, Lucille had forgotten to hold back and leapt onto John's back, sending them both cascading to the warm grass beneath. Lucille, successful in her hunt, rolled away and sprung to her feet. She turned, expecting to meet John's smile with a grin of her own, but was startled to find him still laying on the ground, crying.

The mothers, stirred by the John's wailing, descended upon him. A tangle of hands fawned over him, helping him up, stroking his hair, and rubbing his back. Each mother competed, forcefully yet civilly, against the other for a piece of John upon which they could lavish their affection.

The other children reacted in various manners. Some, so moved by this display of tenderness and motherly compassion, broke down into tears themselves, prompting a few mothers to break off from the group and deliver upon them a chorus of "It's okay, sweetie."

Other children stared blankly, until one kicked woodchips at the other, prompting an immediate retaliation that quickly drew the entire group's attention.

Lucille, standing alone and confused, stepped towards the mob of mothers. She didn't understand why John was crying. Acting out her most primal desires without a care in the world brought her the greatest joy. If she was happy, why wasn't John happy? If hunting was fun, being hunted must be just as fun, if not more.

"Tell him you're sorry." One of the mothers had paused her tender stroking of John's back to address the party at fault.

"Why?" Lucille wore a gaze of genuine bewilderment. Her eyes squinted as she peered upward into the mother's face, a dark silhouette against the blinding sun.

"It doesn't matter. Just say it to him," she replied curtly.

The sea of mothers parted before Lucille. John turned his head towards her and she saw that only a few remnants of tears still stained his cheeks. Seeing her, he cowered like a rabbit before a wolf.

She slowly walked toward towards him, aware of the rows of motherly stares bearing down on her. She kept her head turned down. When she finally stopped, staring intently at the tiny dandelion near John's left foot, Lucille muttered the sacred words: "I'm sorry."

Instantly she was relieved of the mothers' stares as they snapped onto John. Also staring at the ground, he let out his reply: "I forgive you."

The ritual was complete. Immediately the sea of mothers fell to low tide. Leaving the children isolated in the world of the playground, they dispersed back to their slick park benches and shady picnic tables, where their beloved fashion magazines lay sprawled in anguish, having pined desperately for the mothers' return.

Lucille turned slowly around, staring at each group of playing children, hoping someone would look up and invite her to join. But by the time she had turned back to her original orientation, none had.

She wandered over to the north edge of the park. Spotting her favorite tree, she ran over and took a seat beneath it, leaning against the trunk. It was an old oak that towered above the surrounding trees. Broad branches stuffed with healthy green leaves created a wide radius of shade. Halfway up the trunk a crude target had been inscribed. It consisted of only two circles, dividing the target into the two decisive zones of "bull's-eye" and "not bull's-eye."

Lucille closed her eyes and remembered how she and other children would battle for absolute superiority over each other by throwing rocks at the target. It was a treacherous challenge only undertaken by a brave and skilled few. A single miss could send a stone careening through the windshield of a car in the parking lot, a minefield of adults and consequences that lay just behind the tree. Lucille was undefeated. Having achieved an incredible three bull's-eyes in a row, her legend would be persist through all time. Each new child, their eyes wide and voice meek before the crowd of playground regulars, was told her tale. The fact that she walked to the playground alone each day, no mother tightly gripping her hand, only further deified her in the eyes of the other children. At the playground, she was a god among small men.

"Do you want some candy?" A clear, high voice called to Lucille from the parking lot behind her. She got up and turned to look at the source.

Standing next to a dark red Mercedes was a tall woman clutching a bulky purse. Her thin figure was clothed in a white sundress with a red floral pattern. Locks of curly brown hair hung just above her shoulders. As a result, she looked like a doll, but due to her manic expression, she looked like one that had suffered an unfortunate manufacturing defect. In her outstretched hand was a fistful of candy. The red and purple lollipops and amber candy sticks poking through her fingers created a lopsided bouquet of sweets that Lucille found irresistible.

Her gaze was fixated on the candy. The sight of candy--forbidden in her household--had left her stupefied. She imagined the sweet red lollipop melting in her mouth. A bit of drool leaked out of the corner of her mouth.

"Well, you sure seem like want some. Why don't you come over here?" The woman pulled the bouquet of candy toward her in a beckoning motion.

Lucille didn't answer with words. She let her sugary fantasies guide her across the path into the parking lot. Her wide, hungry eyes tracked every slight movement of the bouquet. The woman let her hand drop to her side. The candy had fallen out of sight, hidden from Lucille by the long green station wagon parked on the other side of the woman. Lucille held her breath. Her heart beat faster and her step quickened as she began to panic, fearing the worst.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the park. It tossed a section of the woman's hair into her face. She raised her hand up to push it back where it belonged and Lucille finally let out her breath. Glinting in the sun was the candy bouquet, still intact.

She now stood only a few feet from the woman. The scent of a thousand thorny roses overpowered her senses and left her in a mild daze. Lucille could now make out, under thick layers of makeup, the outlines of rivers and estuaries running through the woman's face. Her eyes had a determined self-assurance to them that assuaged Lucille's bloodlust.

"What's your name?" the woman asked.

"Lucille."

The woman's eyes shifted to look over Lucille's shoulder. "And where is your mother?"

"At work."

The woman looked up at the sky in disgust. "Parents these days! You know, if I had children, I would never let them go to the park alone." The pitch of her voice sharpened as it lingered on the last word. "You're bound to get stolen by one of those bad men you hear about on the ten o'clock news."

Lucille could think of nothing but the purple lollipop dangling from the woman's uncertain grasp.

"But that's besides the point. I'm Ms. Lindquist." Looking back at Lucille, Ms. Lindquist noticed the eyes fixated on the candy, and extended the bouquet toward the drooling child. Lucille looked longingly into her eyes.

"Go ahead."

Lucille delicately extracted the purple lollipop from the woman's pale, veiny fingers. She ripped off the wrapper and shoved the glimmering ball of purple candy into her mouth. Immediately the flavors of grape and sugar danced a waltz together in her mouth.

"Why don't you come back to my home and I'll make you some lunch?" Ms. Lindquist said as she pulled open the rear door of her shiny sedan.

Lucille pondered whether or not candy was considered lunch. Based on how wonderful it tasted, she concluded that anybody had that much candy would surely eat it for lunch. Satisfied with her reasoning, she accepted Ms. Lindquist's offer by climbing into the rear seat of the car.

The car's rear interior was pristine. Not a single crack or stress mark was to be found in the tan leather of the rear seats. Looking at her feet, Lucille spotted only a few flecks of fresh dirt in the otherwise perfect floor mat. She struggled to pull the seatbelt over herself, its fibers stiff and rigid in her small hands.

"Lucille, do you realize just how fortunate you are?" Mrs. Lindquist asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Lucille briefly snapped out of her candy-induced euphoria. She had missed her cue. "Thank you for the candy, Ms. Lindquist," she replied in practiced monotone.

"Oh," Ms. Lindquist said, her eyes relaxing. "You're welcome, dear." Only a few moments passed before her self-assuredness came trickling back into her eyes and she resumed where she had left off. "But really, the children these days are so ungrateful." She let out the final word with a palpable indignance.

The grand waltz in Lucille's mouth finally drew to an end as she was now left with only the bland paper stick of the lollipop. She tried to lean forward, reaching for the gleaming bundle of candy on the car's center console, but the seatbelt held her fast against the soft leather back.

Noticing the struggling child, Ms. Lindquist tossed an orange-and-cream-twisted candy stick into the back seat. Her eyes remained locked on the road ahead of her the entire time.

Again, Lucille ripped off the cellophane wrapping and brought the candy to her lips. She felt the sweet orange and smooth cream flavors perform an intricate tango on her tongue. Its tangy taste was the perfect encore to the succulent lollipop.

"All the children would rather play games and run in circles rather than absorb the wisdom of their elders. But you're not like that, are you, Lucille?" Ms. Lindquist continued. Her voice began with an accusatory tone, but spiralled into one of such gratuitous affection that even Lucille, unable to comprehend any language besides the sweet music of candy, recognized the response she must give.

She nodded.

As the car came to a halt at a stop sign, Ms. Lindquist turned to face Lucille. Her lips were curled into a thin smile that was dwarfed by the overwhelming pride in her eyes. "I'm glad. We wouldn't want my time to be wasted, would we?" She turned back forward and gripped the steering wheel more tightly. "We're almost there."

Just as the candy stick had taken its final bows on Lucille's tongue, they pulled into a narrow concrete driveway. Through the window Lucille could make out the first floor of a small house. A small plot of assorted flowers seemed to have been copied and pasted several times to create an organic demarcation between the immaculately trimmed bright green lawn and the white siding of the house.

Stepping out of the car, Lucille spotted the rest of the candy. Ms. Lindquist held it casually in her right hand as her left fumbled with the keys at the red front door. In a small triumph, she managed to unlock and open the door without risking the safety of the precious remaining lollipops.

Lucille followed her through the door. She stepped into a kitchen furnished with white cabinets surrounding a dark brown drop leaf dining table, set for one.

"Have a seat, Lucille. I'll get your lunch ready." Ms. Lindquist set the candy down on the counter next to the stove, across the table from where Lucille took her seat.

Lucille's gaze never left the lollipops. As her mind entertained sugary fantasies, her hands absentmindedly began stuffing her napkin into the empty crystal glass at the side of her placemat.

"No, no, no." Ms. Lindquist shook her head and plucked the napkin out of the glass, placing it on Lucille's lap. "Like this, child." She turned back and opened the cabinet nearest to her. Standing on her toes, she peered inside before coming back down and letting out a sigh. "Well, it seems we're out of bread, so we'll have to skip lunch. Take this instead." She handed Lucille another purple lollipop.

Lucille wasted no time in placing it in her mouth and succumbing to the now familiar bliss.

"Lucille, do you know why I brought you here?"

Lucille shook her head.

"That's what I thought." At this point she broke eye contact and stared out the window behind Lucille. "Last week, while I was doing the dishes, I was listening to this radio program on NPR, and they had just the most wonderful guest on. She was a professor at an Ivy League university, and she talked about how your generation is the most at-risk of any so far. Of course, I was concerned immediately. Lucille, are you listening?"

Lucille's candy-fueled daze had evidently been noticed. The sudden silence prompted her to nod.

"Okay, good. As I was saying, I felt a great concern for the youth. The guest went on to explain how it was the responsibility of us, the adults, to guide the youth with our wisdom. It was at that moment that I realized how I could give back to my community. As a woman in business, I've seen quite a bit of this world, you know. Though it may be vain, I really believe I am gifted when it comes to wisdom. The lessons just came naturally to me when I put my mind to it. Lucille, are you asleep?"

Lucille's mind had been romping in a world of sweet purple pleasure. Again, the sudden lack of speech had pulled her out of it, and she nodded instinctively.

"Well, I guess you just look tired. I'll get to the point. Doing the dishes that day, I had a moment. It came to me. The most important lesson. The words just came to me and despite not having children of my own, I had to share. It was my duty." She leaned over the table and yanked the lollipop out of Lucille's mouth. She held it just beyond the reach of Lucille's lips.

Lucille stared into the manic eyes only inches away from her. The removal of the lollipop had opened a void within her. She sat staring into Ms. Lindquist's eyes looking for something with which to fill it.

"Lucille, you are so fortunate that I came into your life. The wisdom you are about to receive can be found nowhere else. Listen carefully."

Lucille gave no answer, but kept her gaze unbroken.

"Lucille, be yourself."

Lucille felt the lollipop being reinserted into her mouth as she collapsed back into her chair. Though she tasted the sweetness, the music was gone. In its place were Ms. Lindquist's words:

Be yourself.

***

As Ms. Lindquist drove away, Lucille made her way back toward the playground, passing by her favourite tree without so much as a glance in its direction.

    "Lucille!" As she approached the mob of children, a tall boy with messy brown hair and welcoming eyes called to her.

    "I'm not Lucille." She stood staring intently into the boy's eyes. His warm expression had morphed into confusion.

    "What?" He had stopped walking toward her. The entire mob of children had turned, in unison, to face her. "What do you mean?" he asked.

    "I am Yourself," she replied.