If you can fill your heart with compassion for friend, foe and stranger alike; if you can out of your soul hatred strike and instead resolve kindness to fashion… If you can embrace with every fibre of your being empathy for each suffering living thing; if your soul can of love and tolerance sing and vow to only the good in all be seeing… If you can sincerely forgive and forget every slight and slur hurled like words of stone darts; if you succeed in mending broken hearts and offer solace to those running in fright… Then have you conquered your nature cynical, Raised your mere humanity to heaven's pinnacle.

How would life be without you? I struggle to imagine What would i do Without you guiding my footsteps Life is filled with ups and downs, but you have gotten me through them Roads with broken lanes, but you have helped me climb all the hurdles My past was pitiful I didn't have a direction nor did i have a plan but you came along and led me through the darkness Doubts resurface at times because i haven't seen you, but i know you're here with me Your wonders and glory are beyond what man can comprehend and see So marvelous, so true I cried unto you, and you answered my cry You turned my frown upside down and gave me a million reasons to be thankful I open my eyes I'm in awe of your love and compassion towards us I can't thank you enough, but i'll keep on thanking you I may not be able to express my thoughts very loud and clear, but i express it in the way i know to show my appreciation Father , i love you Always and forever. This is actually a poem i wrote for quite some time, but i was waiting for the right moment to post it. It talks about our Faith in Our Lord Jesus christ and generally of the journey of Christian faith. At times we as christians doubt, and that's human, but Jesus hasn't given us any reason to doubt us, as He shows it from His actions. He loves us with all our imperfections and flaws. I have gone through my fair share of never feeling good enough and like i was too damaged to even acknowledge God, but God doesn't see us as broken. He sees us as His children. As a christian, doubts comes but the only way we can overcome them is to pray. Jesus died for us, and there's no doubt about that. No matter how imperfect we think we are, He assures us that we are perfect and we are His children and that he'll always be there, in both good and bad times. This reflects genuine love and i'm happy that i can call Him my father. Follow christ and you'll genuinely experience the true meaning of happiness and the future Jesus has planned just for you, his child and remember, Jesus loves you.

To Biopage contest THE PURPLE BIKE By Penny Robichaux-Koontz As told to H L Ford I had just taken over a condemned property in Texas, a homeless shelter in a rural area, pitch-black at night except for the light from a lonely, passing train. I had 42 youngsters and 30 adults staying with me in our shelter and no money. The only ornaments for the tree were those I had collected for my own children over the years until this year, 1991. As we were putting the tree up, the children were grumbling. “Miss Penny, how is Santa ever gonna find us out here in the dark?” I encouraged them to sing carols loudly when we heard a knock at the door. There stood the jolly old elf himself, Santa, in full red velvet and white fur trim. The children's eyes widened. I could have heard a snowflake drop. Santa leaned over to whisper, “I'm on my way to a Christmas party and heard you may need a Santa tonight.” “Thanks,” I answered in grateful amazement. He took a seat and talked with the children. Then, laying a finger aside of his nose, up the chimney he did not go but left through the door leaving big smiles behind him. I was delighted; however, as they shared the excitement of Santa's visit, to my dismay, I learned each child had asked Santa for a bike. Suddenly, the magic was gone and the reality of needing 42 bicycles settled on me. “How Lord, will I ever get that many bikes when just getting enough food is stretching my faith?” Articles appeared in the local paper, and people began to visit our shelter. They brought sweatshirts, warm clothing, blankets, and supplies. The word about our needs spread throughout the community. And yes! The bikes also started coming. We stored them in the secret workshop, where we assembled the new bikes at night while the children slept. Christmas morning came and the paper and ribbon flew amid laughter, singing, and a few tears of joy. And oh, the bikes…bikes everywhere! Emotionally spent and tired from playing Santa's helper all night, I headed outdoors to go to my room when I heard a child running behind me, calling “Miss Penny, Miss Penny!" Cedric, a precious little five-year-old boy caught up, his cheeks streaked with tears. I got down on my knees. “Why are you crying, honey?” “Miss Penny, I didn't git me no bike!” Dismayed, I thought, how could we have been off by one bike?! Thinking quickly, I said, “Cedric, did you ask Jesus for a bike?” “No, Miss Penny. I asked Santa Claus.” “Well, that explains it,” I said. “Santa is only a one- Day-a-year wonder. But Jesus, He is our Gift from heaven and He is also our gift-giver, not just one time a year, but today and every day. He loves you and hears you when you pray. You know He is the reason we celebrate this day, so let's talk to Him." With that, Cedric made quite a noisy plea to Jesus for a purple bike someday soon. “Amen!” Struggling to get up off my knees, I saw a pickup truck coming up the dirt drive toward us. The driver pulled to a halt, throwing Texas dust all around. “Are you Miss Penny?” he asked, stepping out of the cab. “That's me,” I said, “Can I help you?” “I'm sorry to be so late. My wife and I planned to be here yesterday,” he said while lifting a bike out of the truck bed. He placed a purple two-wheeler on the drive right in front of Cedric, whose eyes widened with amazement. “Hope you can use a bike like this. Sorry, I was late,” he grinned. I never got the name of that man. A great woman of faith that I am, I stood there speechless as I watched God make Himself absolutely real to a very excited little boy. That moment is as fresh in my heart and mind today as it was that 1991 Christmas. I had only been out of the wheelchair a short time then and had wanted to say "thank you, Lord" for healing my body from the paralysis of childhood polio. From that moment I was on my way to faith adventures with thousands more children over the years who came and went from Jacob's House a home for children in need of rescue. Like little Cedric, I was also on my way to many more miracles as I watched these children grow. Penny Roubichaus-Koontz has now retired from ministering at Jacob's House, but she never tires of sharing her faith, her joy, and her stories of God's children.

I saw something in the distance Beneath the pale moonlight. It was a fleeting, translucent figure - Something of sheer white. I strained my eyes to see it, but It vanished in thin air. I wondered about my sanity: Did I see it? Was it there? The moon struggled with its brightness Through the thickening of the woods. I recalled every silent movement, As best my memory could. But alas! As I had given up The dream I thought I'd seen, There stood a beautiful Lady Where the image had once been. As she smiled I felt a comfort, Instead of threatening harm; I felt no apprehension Only peaceful calm. Although she never spoke a word, She pointed out the way To take me from the forest Into the light of day. And as I walked, I realized, She'd been there all the while – This Lady with the simmering gown And the saddened but beautiful smile. She's the Lady of the Forest; She's there to help us see The light that's in the distance Beyond the tall dark trees.

In the wake of the horrific Pennsylvania Grand Jury report detailing the sexual abuse of over 1,000 children by more than 300 Catholic clergy in our state, my Facebook feed lit up. Friends were outraged, mortified, saddened, shocked. In their dismay, several friends posed the question of how I can still be a Catholic. How can I seemingly condone the behavior of the Catholic Church by continuing to attend Mass on Sunday mornings? How can I fund the corrupt and criminal behavior of these low-life pedophile priests with my fundraising efforts? Why would I defile my children by sending them to a Catholic school where such abuse has occurred? Doesn't that make me an enabler, equally as culpable? It's a hurtful stance, like telling the mother of a school shooter that she may as well have pulled the trigger herself. Or it's like holding all of the American populace up to scrutiny for the acts of our elected officials who have, over the decades, cheated, lied, stolen, raped, and performed any of a vast array of illegal activities, and who, after all, we the people willingly voted into office. How can I still be a Catholic? Because my faith is not rooted in men. It's rooted in God. It's rooted in my belief in Jesus Christ and the Immaculate Conception, in the Holy Spirit, in the consecration and the resurrection. My faith has nothing to do with the people who run the church, just as my patriotism has nothing to do with the people elected to run this country. I am able to separate the organization from the doctrine, the leadership from the congregation, the sins of the leaders from my own salvation. How can I still be a Catholic? Because Catholicism has been a cornerstone of my life from birth. My grandparents, all Eastern European immigrants, brought their Catholic faith with them when they had little else. My grandfather, devoted to the Blessed Mother for all of his 97 years, was a pillar of the Croatian Catholic Church that served our town for decades. We helped to clean that church as children—never running, never messing around, always reverent because that was God's house. My church is God's house. Like in all of our houses, not everything that happens there is pretty. Not all of our family members are people we would choose to associate with given the option. Not every action is good and wholesome and pure. Few of us would opt to have cameras running in our homes, capturing our every move every day for everyone to see. God's house, unfortunately, is no different. There is no question that priests behaved monstrously, and the fact that their behavior was hidden by church leadership rather than punished is more monstrous still. Those individuals need to face justice. I, like many others, hope that justice is swift and decisive—both for those who did the unspeakable and those who hid it. We—the faithful of the Catholic Church—did not commit these crimes. But neither did we fight to drag them out into the open. Our church leadership failed us, yes, but we as a church body failed, too. We should have been more vigilant. We should have been more observant. We should have spurned our role as passive sheep and instead confronted head-on the wolves cleverly disguised as shepherds. It's too late for the victims described in the report (and countless unnamed others), but it's not too late for our children today. I want to be a part of a revolution in the Catholic Church that champions that transformation. How can I still be a Catholic? Because I believe in the people of the Catholic Church. The pierogi-pinching, paczki-frying, stuffed-cabbage-rolling ladies in the church hall. The members of the St. Vincent de Paul Society and the Ladies of Charity who selflessly deliver much needed help to those less fortunate. The choir directors and musicians who lift their congregations in song, bringing them ever closer to God. The Catholic school teachers who dedicate themselves tirelessly to providing a loving, faith-based education to children growing up in a world largely devoid of faith. I believe in the truly good priests who honestly and sincerely strive to lead their trusted flock to God, and do so with a smile, an inspirational homily, a prayer over a sick family member, a sacrament lovingly bestowed upon the faithful. They do exist, and I'm grateful to know them. And I believe in redemption. I believe that the Catholic Church, properly guided, can commit itself to change—serious, earth-shaking reform—and, as a result, can redeem itself. It can never make whole those who have been wounded, but it can become the beacon of light and salvation Jesus meant it to be from the beginning. How can I still be a Catholic? Because every priest is not a pedophile any more than every gun owner is a mass shooter. Because the church body is greater than the sum of its parts. Because my faith in God transcends my faith in the men who run the organization created in his name.

Southern Virginia, circa summer 2016. Beautiful warm days mixed in with just the right amount of extremely hot days to make the summer perfect. Long days merge to short nights, each day better than the last. In the town of Danville, Virginia, at Averett University, a Christian summer camp takes place. Campers spend their days studying the Bible, their afternoons working on mission sites, and their nights partying in worship. A small youth group from the next county over, Halifax, spends the week as they usually do: having the time of their lives. They spend their time bonding over the time they get to spend together and with God. In July 2016, my youth group spent a week in Danville doing mission work for Passport Missions, a camp dedicated to bringing teens closer to Christ. Christian teenagers spending a week dedicated to the worship of God. I, however, was an anomaly. At the time, I was a devoted atheist. The God I had known my entire life had abandoned me, left me to the wolf, Satan. He had let me fall away from Him. The question permanently on my mind was “How could God, the creator of the universe, the lover of all, the Father and Hope of my so-called Christian life, have abandoned me?” I blamed Him for my depression, for my anxiety, for everything that was wrong with me. Hatred coursed through my veins as if it were my blood, anger taking the prime seat in my temporal lobe. Three years later, I have grown to understand why God had put me in that camp, no matter how much I didn't want to be there. He knew I needed a push, something to bring me to the edge and push me so close to Him I could never not put everything in Him again. This push would show me that He had me, and wouldn't be letting go anytime soon. The last night of worship, I was a mess. It had been hard to be surrounded by good Christians all week, a perfect model of what I should have been. Of what I could have been. These people were so filled with love and patience, and I had none of it. I wanted it all, but something was holding me back. The only thing in the world I wanted was to be loved, and God had offered but I hadn't accepted. Silently, I started crying and praying. Mutters of helplessness came from me, tears flowing like never before. I asked God for everything. I needed something, even the smallest thing in the world, to show me His love. Three years later, and I still don't even know if this really happened. I don't know if the Spirit has convinced me that it did, or if my mind played tricks on me to push me that last step of the way. But in my heart, in my soul, deep down I know what happened. I was seated on the far left of the auditorium where they held worship, no one to my left but the wall. Through my tears and prayers, I felt a weight on my left shoulder. Where no one was standing. At that moment, God Himself had touched my human body, as if to tell me, “Look up, kid. I've got you. As I said, my brain wasn't sure what it was. But my heart and soul knew. God had spoken to me. He knew me and wanted me to know that everything was going to be alright. He spoke right to my soul and said, “Be still and know that I am God.” My youth leader had made her way over to me when she saw me crying. She held on to me and let me cry on her shoulder. She didn't know that I wasn't sad or upset, but happy. She comforted me and held me and treated me like her own child. I'll never be able to put how much my youth group means to me in words. Those people mean more than the world to me. We've been through a lot together, and I love them with everything I have. One thing has changed tremendously throughout the years for me: my love, hope, and faith in God. I've been through a lot in sixteen years of life, but that not only has made me stronger but has grown my faith to levels I didn't think was possible. I'm planning a future in ministry, hoping to one day become a preacher or a missionary. This all started because of my lack of faith but has left me with so much more. I thank Him every day that I got the chance to redeem myself, that one day I will get the chance to say these things to Him in person, that one day I will lay everything at His feet and live in the Promised Land. “Throw your burden upon the Lord, and He will sustain you. He will never allow the godly to be upended.” Psalms 55:22 NET.

Imagine that you are on an old war ship. You are in a battle, and the enemy ship is headed right for you at ramming speed. The call comes out from the Captain, “brace for impact.” One sailor ignores the order, because he refuses to accept what is about to happen. The enemy ship slams into you. Those who braced themselves for the attack are battered and bruised, but are alive. That one sailor is lost. Why? He refused to face the reality of the situation. Sadly, many of us never truly prepare ourselves for the inevitable. Loss is inevitable. Our lives begin with loss. We are born, and we lose the warmth and comfort of our womb. We would likely be traumatized if we could remember the ordeal. We grow. We lose our bottle. We grow. We lose our innocence. We have to answer for what we do now. We grow. We lose excuses. We lose the cocoon we call school, and step into the real world. The real loss begins. We lose money to bills. We lose touch with friends. We lose grandparents. We lose youth. We lose abilities because we age. We lose energy. We lose parents. Time goes on, and the losses keep piling up. During the entire process, we have either been bracing for impact, or we have been refusing to accept reality. If we have prepared ourselves, we soldier on. If we have not, we lose even more. We lose our joy. We lose our hope. We lose our sanity. We lose our faith. My personal faith does my bracing. Loss is inevitable, but if you lean on God and realize that you will never lose Him, loss is much less terrifying. Prepare yourself for losses in your life, not because of fear, but for the sake of strength. If you have given your life to Lord, you have lost the chains of sin and you have gained eternity. Hold tight to your faith, it will surely help you brace for impact.