a teddy bear, a creator and me

He’s a ratty old thing. I’ve had him for 12 years now. For his age, he’s lookin’ pretty good, with the exception of the 2 ½ inch rip down the seam of his back. It’s a battle wound from childhood. I believe it was during one of his many attempted kidnappings. He was pulled in two directions and I refused to let him go, as did his captor…until he broke. I guess damaged goods weren’t as appealing. Not to mention the wrath she was about to incur from our parents. She was in so much trouble.

Throughout the years I have tried on many occasions to stitch his back seam together again. Yet every time we warred over possession of my favorite black teddy bear, he would pop open in the same place. His scar remains to this day. The white double threaded string hangs the length of his wound as stuffing threatens freedom; a reminder of the battles fought for possession. I’ve given up on fixing him and leave the tread hanging as a mark of ownership. As far as teddy bears go hes not much to look at, just a simple black teddy bear with a cream floral bow (one strand up.side.down). He sits about 18 inches tall and aside from that stuffing overflow spot on his upper back, has no distinguishing marks. I leave the wound open so I’ll always know hes mine.

As I laid in bed this morning, staring at his wound, I wondered about the scars in my own life. Many times I’ve been pulled in conflicting directions, leaving me wounded and confused. The one who fixes my wounds; does he leave them open so he knows which one I am? Does he define me by my scars?

As I pondered these thoughts, unwilling to compromise the warmth of my comforter for the chill that awaited me, I decided that I am not defined by my scars. There is more to me than past failure, future dreams and current standing. It is not what has happened in my life that defines me, but more my response.

Man was not made as a teddy bear. We weren’t made on a production line to be identical items for retail value. We were created and are known separately. We are not defined by our past failures, future goals or current standings. In part these may be a piece of the definition of our lives, but are by no means all encompassing.

love. what is love. what is god's love. what is a father's love.

so many seem to have so many questions about love; I come with just more; no answers.

I wonder if maybe our perception of love isn't off. We dont' recieve hugs and chocolates and flowers from everyone we love, nor do we recripcate the same. Sometimes love is protecting and providing for someone or something.

I think that some of the greatest acts of love can be for someone unknown. Love isn't something you feel. That's an emotion. Emotions confuse me. Love sets me free.

I feel love when I can sit and have a conversation unconcerned with being judged but focused on the other person and our interaction together. No games to play and nothing to hide, but good time with people I love.

I've been told that love isn't something you feel, its an action you take. Love is a commitment to protect and provide. That doesn't completely make sense to me, but I guess that's why I come with many questions and few, if any, answers.