last night had troubles taming the sleep

so I started thinking.

the cold floors after the shower,
the nights when we run to the other side of the road without shoes to see a movie,
how paul burned a black mark on the carpet with the kettle,
the feeling of shame after realizing how naive we were,
the roofs of the old city,
ruut driving her car,
listening to backstreet boys on our way away from poryya,
the awful cockroach in the bath tub,
the fact how much and how often we laughed ourselves exhausted,
and how we were so irritated without really knowing why.
the feeling when you know you are really holding the life you should.
israel, how good it was to be there, then.

and yes, how good to be here, now.
(but oh how blessed to own a yet one more home,
the one besides mediterranean)

its precious that sometimes God opens ones eyes to the easyness
of guidance and his kingdom.

to have and to hold

yes, I know.
who am I to question you
I am the clay to whom
you owe no explanations.
yes, even in the mutiny of my heart
only your will fills.

keep me believing.

just asking

what if Jesus would actually ask me to love someone who is totally inapproriate

like to really love

a criminal
a druggie
to lay my life down?

for a bad smelling homeless
for an evil dictator

to abandon my reputation
for a muslim, hindoo,
a newager?

instead of my friends to invite to a party
the poor, wretched and unknown.

how far he could ask me to go
and how far would I follow?