When God Gave Me Fairies

How many of you truly feel like a daughter of the King? How many of you know that God delights in you? That nothing gives Him more pleasure than being with you and granting you the desires of your heart. God’s heart is the heart of a father. He sees you as His precious daughter. He sits in heaven plotting and planning divine encounters and surprises to make you laugh and smile. Because He loves your smile and He loves the sound of your laughter. He can not help Himself but to do something new to make you smile and laugh again and again and again. He loves it and He can not get enough of hearing you laugh and seeing you smile. The Fathers heart is to delight His daughters.

One of the pictures I took of the fairies God gave me.

I was going through a really hard time in my life a little over a year ago. I didn’t have friends, I was struggling with depression, I was facing a massive struggle and my walk with God was crumbling. My spiritual parents had just moved across the country and I had no one left that I could really lean on anymore. I told God that I would trust Him, but that He had to do something. And God came through for me. Amongst the many things He did, two especially stuck out to me. He sent me a mentor and He gave me fairies. The first is a story for another post and the latter probably has you convinced I’m crazy (and that again is a story for another post). He really did though. God gave me fairies. I was taking a walk with my camera and on the way home the sight that was before my eyes took my breath away.

The sun was hanging low in the sky just before sunset, casting everything in a golden light. And in the light were fairies. Hundreds of thousands of these little bugs (probably midges and mosquitoes) were lit up and aglow in the light. Holy Spirit started speaking to me, reminding me of His love for me. He told me I was going to be ok, I was going to make it through this. He brought back to memory a night from years ago when I was at our church youth group. They had passed around a question box and told everyone to put a question in. The only thing I could think of off the top of my head was, “Are there bugs in heaven.” I was in junior high, I was goofing off with friends, it was a stupid question (the youth leaders even used at as their example of the stupid questions they received in the parents meeting along with their example of good questions). I never expected an answer. But God answered anyway. And when He brought that question back to mind He started telling me how He made everything perfect and beautiful.


The little bugs that I was seeing were created to be creatures of light. They were affected by the fall like all creation, but the purified versions were in heaven. Yes there were bugs in heaven (and I dearly hope by posting this none of you girls decide you don't want to go to heaven, but if it makes you feel any better hell has bugs too and they are nasty and gross there, as the Bible says the worm never dies in hell. Heaven is a much better choice). He answered the stupid question that I asked back in junior high, that I cared nothing about, because it mattered to Him. He heard my voice then, and it mattered to Him that I knew I was heard. That my every cry and question were heard by God and meant something to Him. He told me that He loved me and that He still cared. Though all others had forsaken me, He would carry me through the struggle I was facing. And so I smile every time I see a midge or a mosquito (and unfortunately the mosquitoes still bite me, though not often) because I remember that God loves me, and He cares. I feel like it’s my little secret with God, I see a mosquito and while everyone else gets annoyed my face lights up, because I know what they were created to be. And then I swat the mosquito anyway. :p

This is just one example of something He has done in my life that made me smile. The ways God devises to make you smile and laugh are probably very different from how He makes me smile and laugh. But I know He does do things just to see you smile. Next time you catch yourself smiling, maybe stop and thank God for that moment and know that He loves you. (Then come and comment so we can share the joy with you!) :D

Thoughts on Abortion

So this is a very important topic, one I am certain that I am not qualified to speak about. Therefore, I'll leave the actual arguing against it to the people who know what they're doing over at abort73 .
This story and what I've concluded from it, however, is mine.

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April 12, 2006. A happy, growing family of eight is expecting their seventh child, due in September. They recently purchased a bright red fifteen passenger van, which they named "Big Red" (for obvious reasons) so as to accommodate all of them. They are very excited, from the oldest to the youngest, for "Peanut's" arrival.

The kids and dad are working out in the garden while mom is at her doctor's appointment. When the phone rings, the blonde eight-year-old runs to answer it and bring it to her daddy.
"Get Daddy," her mom's strangely urgent voice commands.
After a few minutes, the dad breaks the news to the children. "Peanut is dead."

The world stops.
What could this mean?
How could a little baby, not even born, die?
To me, it made no sense.
At eight years old, I believe I was too young to even really grieve properly.
My great-grandmother had died recently, but that was different. I had known her. I had talked to her. I had loved her.
I hadn't really loved "Peanut," in the same way, I suppose.
But it hurt. A lot. It still does sometimes.

On April 15th, 2006, the day before Easter, my mother delivered her dead child, my little brother.
He was eighteen weeks old.
We named him Joseph, after a man in the Old Testament who claimed the promise of Romans 8:28 for himself. We trust that although his death was a terrible thing, God would use it for good. We also had hope through Easter that year, that death is nothing to fear now that our risen Savior has conquered it. I look forward, Lord willing, to someday meeting my little brother in heaven.
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I have pictures of him, you know.
At only eighteen weeks, he had a little nose.
Little toes.
Little fingers.
Little eyelids.
He fit into my dad's hand.
And yes, I firmly believe that he was alive. He was a human being, just like you and me.
I may not be a scientist, or a doctor, and I don't claim to be really knowledgeable at all about this topic.
But to look at his little face, the face of a fetus, and say, "If he's going to have a bad life, if his mother doesn't want him, if he was never expected or wanted by anyone in the first place, if his family will have a hard time caring for his handicap, then he doesn't deserve to live. He's not human yet, anyway."

Excuse me? 

You can't honestly be telling me that I am any more human than that little boy, that I have more of a right to live than my little brother simply because I have already been born. You can't be telling me that he's not a person yet simply because he hasn't yet taken his first breath. I believe that Joseph was a person, even in his  eighteen short weeks of life.
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     "Like toddler and adolescent, the terms embryo and fetus do not refer to nonhumans but to humans at various stages of development. It is scientifically inaccurate to say a human embryo or a fetus is not a human being simply because he is at an earlier stage than an infant. This is like saying that a toddler is not a human being because he is not yet an adolescent. Does someone become more human as he gets bigger? If so, then adults are more human than children, and football players are more human than jockeys. Something nonhuman does not become human or more human by getting older or bigger; whatever is human is human from the beginning, or it can never be human at all. The right to live does not increase with age and size; otherwise, toddlers and adolescents have less right to live than adults." ---Randy Alcorn, quoted from his article "Abortion" in the April 2013 edition of Tabletalk Magazine.
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This is my story.
These are my thoughts.
What are yours?