Please Accept My Gift Quotes

Mel? Mel, I love you. Mel, come back . Mel, Mel, Mel." It's Jared's voice, trying to call me back the way Wanda called back the Healer's host, the way she taught Kyle to call to Jodi. I can answer him. I can speak now. I can feel my tongue in my mouth, ready to move into whatever shape I ask it to. I can feel the air in my lungs, ready to push out the words. If I want this. "Mel, I love you, I love you." This is Wanda's gift to me, paid for with her silver blood. Jared and I, put back together again as if she'd never lived. As if she hadn't saved us both. If I accept this gift, I profit from her death. I kill her again. I take her sacrifice and make it murder. "Mel, please? Open your eyes." I feel his hand on my face, cradling my cheek. I feel his lips burn against my forehead, but I don't want them, not at this price. Or do I?

I surrender to the pain because it pleases my Master and I know he enjoys giving it to me and that he needs to give it to me in order for him to feel content. That, Dylan, is what appeals to me about BDSM. Pleasing you, my Master, owner and husband, and cherishing you for the Dominant that you are, and feeling a sense of pride in the pleasure and joy that I give to you when I’m obedient and things are perfect and just the way you want them to be. BDSM gives me that sense of purpose and that purpose is to submit to you completely and to accept your gift of submission to me.

Rallick will kill you,” Murillio said levelly. “Nonsense.” Kruppe placed the mask over his face. “How will the lad ever recognize Kruppe?” Murillio studied the man’s round body, the faded red waistcoat, gathered cuffs, and the short oily curls atop his head. “Never mind.” He sighed. “Excellent,” Kruppe said. “Now, please accept these two masks, gifts from your friend Kruppe. A trip is saved, and Baruk need not wait any longer for a secret message that must not be mentioned.” He replaced his mask in its box, then spun round to study the eastern skyline. “Off to yon alchemist’s abode, then. Good evening, friend—” “Wait a minute,” Murillio said, grasping Kruppe’s arm and turning him round. “Have you seen Coll?” “Why, of course. The man sleeps a deep, recovering sleep from his ordeals.’Twas healed magically, Sulty said. By some stranger, yet. Coll himself was brought in by yet a second stranger, who found a third stranger, who in turn brought a fifth stranger in the company of the stranger who healed Coll. And so it goes, friend Murillio. Strange doings, indeed. Now, Kruppe must be off. Goodbye, friend—” “Not yet,” Murillio snarled. He glanced around. The street was still empty. He leaned close. “I’ve worked some things out, Kruppe. Circle Breaker contacting me put everything into order in my mind. I know who you are.” “Aaai!” Kruppe cried, withdrawing. “I’ll not deny it, then! It’s true, Murillio, Kruppe is Lady Simtal connivingly disguised.

This was not going the way I wanted it to. I felt a desperate need to escape before I said something that would screw up my plans. Ren was the dark side, the forbidden fruit, my personal Delilah-the ultimate temptation. The question was…could I resist? I gave his knee a friendly pat and played my trump card…”I’m leaving.” “You’re what?” “I’m going home to Oregon. Mr. Kadam thinks it will be safer for me anyway, with Lokesh out there looking to kill us and all. Besides, you need time to figure out…stuff.” “If you’re leaving, then I’m going with you!” I smiled at him wryly. “That kind of defeats the purpose of me leaving. Don’t you think?” He slicked back his hair, let out a deep breath, then took my hand and looked intently into my eyes. “Kells, when are you going to accept the fact that we belong together?” I felt sick, like I was kicking a faithful puppy who only wanted to be loved. I looked out at the pool. After a moment, he sat back scowling and said menacingly, “I won’t let you leave.” Inside, I desperately wanted to take his hand and beg him to forgive me, to love me, but I steeled myself, dropped my hands in my lap, then implored, “Ren, please. You have to let me go. I need…I’m afraid…look, I just can’t be here, near you, when you change your mind.” “It’s not going to happen.” “it might. There’s a good chance.” He growled angrily. “There’s no chance!” “Well, my heart can’t take that risk, and I don’t want to put you in what can only be an awkward position. I’m sorry, Ren. I really am. I do want to be your friend, but I understand if you don’t want that. Of course, I’ll return when you need me, if you need me, to help you find the other three gifts. I wouldn’t abandon you or Kishan in that way. I just can’t stay here with you feeling obligated to pity-date me because you need me. But I’d never abandon your cause. I’ll always be there for you both, no matter what.” He spat out, “Pity-date! You? Kelsey, you can’t be serious!” “I am. Very, very serious. I’ll ask Mr. Kadam to make arrangements to send me back in the next few days.” He didn’t say another word. He just sat back in his chair. I could tell he was fuming mad, but I felt that, after a week or two, when he started getting back out in the world, he would come to appreciate my gesture. I looked away from him. “I’m very tired now. I’d like to go to bed.” I got up and headed to my room. Before I closed the sliding door, I asked, “Can I make one last request?” He sat there tight-lipped, his arms folded over his chest, with a tense, angry face. I sighed. Even infuriated he was beautiful. He said nothing so I went on, “It would be a lot easier on me if I didn’t see you, I mean as a man. I’ll try to avoid most of the house. It is yours after all, so I’ll stay in my room. If you see Mr. Kadam, please tell him I’d like to speak with him.” He didn’t respond. “Well, good-bye, Ren. Take care of yourself.” I tore my eyes away from him, shut the door, and drew the curtains. Take care of yourself? That was a lame goodbye. Tears welled in my eyes and blurred my vision. I was proud that I’d gotten through it without showing emotion. But, now, I felt like a steamroller had come along and flattened me.

Forgive me,' Poe repeated earnestly. I nodded coldly. I was not above acting like a child; I was hardly more than one. 'I want you to have this,' he said, fishing a gold watch and chain from his pocket. He took a step toward me. I stood my ground. He closed the distance between us, the timepiece in his hand. 'It belonged to my father, David Poe--not John Allan, who fostered me but would not adopt me. My real father was David Poe, Jr., the actor. It's said that he abandoned my mother and me. It's a lie. He died--too young: He was only twenty-seven.' I accepted his gift. It felt substantial in my hand. In spite of myself, I was pleased to have it.

Pay attention to everything the dying person says. You might want to keep pens and a spiral notebook beside the bed so that anyone can jot down notes about gestures, conversations, or anything out of the ordinary said by the dying person. Talk with one another about these comments and gestures. • Remember that there may be important messages in any communication, however vague or garbled. Not every statement made by a dying person has significance, but heed them all so as not to miss the ones that do. • Watch for key signs: a glassy-eyed look; the appearance of staring through you; distractedness or secretiveness; seemingly inappropriate smiles or gestures, such as pointing, reaching toward someone or something unseen, or waving when no one is there; efforts to pick at the covers or get out of bed for no apparent reason; agitation or distress at your inability to comprehend something the dying person has tried to say. • Respond to anything you don’t understand with gentle inquiries. “Can you tell me what’s happening?” is sometimes a helpful way to initiate this kind of conversation. You might also try saying, “You seem different today. Can you tell me why?” • Pose questions in open-ended, encouraging terms. For example, if a dying person whose mother is long dead says, “My mother’s waiting for me,” turn that comment into a question: “Mother’s waiting for you?” or “I’m so glad she’s close to you. Can you tell me about it?” • Accept and validate what the dying person tells you. If he says, “I see a beautiful place!” say, “That’s wonderful! Can you tell me more about it?” or “I’m so pleased. I can see that it makes you happy,” or “I’m so glad you’re telling me this. I really want to understand what’s happening to you. Can you tell me more?” • Don’t argue or challenge. By saying something like “You couldn’t possibly have seen Mother, she’s been dead for ten years,” you could increase the dying person’s frustration and isolation, and run the risk of putting an end to further attempts at communicating. • Remember that a dying person may employ images from life experiences like work or hobbies. A pilot may talk about getting ready to go for a flight; carry the metaphor forward: “Do you know when it leaves?” or “Is there anyone on the plane you know?” or “Is there anything I can do to help you get ready for takeoff?” • Be honest about having trouble understanding. One way is to say, “I think you’re trying to tell me something important and I’m trying very hard, but I’m just not getting it. I’ll keep on trying. Please don’t give up on me.” • Don’t push. Let the dying control the breadth and depth of the conversation—they may not be able to put their experiences into words; insisting on more talk may frustrate or overwhelm them. • Avoid instilling a sense of failure in the dying person. If the information is garbled or the delivery impossibly vague, show that you appreciate the effort by saying, “I can see that this is hard for you; I appreciate your trying to share it with me,” or “I can see you’re getting tired/angry/frustrated. Would it be easier if we talked about this later?” or “Don’t worry. We’ll keep trying and maybe it will come.” • If you don’t know what to say, don’t say anything. Sometimes the best response is simply to touch the dying person’s hand, or smile and stroke his or her forehead. Touching gives the very important message “I’m with you.” Or you could say, “That’s interesting, let me think about it.” • Remember that sometimes the one dying picks an unlikely confidant. Dying people often try to communicate important information to someone who makes them feel safe—who won’t get upset or be taken aback by such confidences. If you’re an outsider chosen for this role, share the information as gently and completely as possible with the appropriate family members or friends. They may be more familiar with innuendos in a message because they know the person well.

Stop.” He shot in front of me, moving so fast I didn’t see him until we were face to face. “Please just . . . I . . . I don’t know what to say, Josie.” I winced, feeling what he was saying all the way to the core. “That . . . that says everything, Seth, because if you don’t—” My voice cracked, right along with what was left of my heart. “If you don’t know what to say, then that’s it.” “You don’t understand.” His voice was low.“I don’t understand anything.” Heart aching, I stepped to the side, but Seth followed. “Please, just let me go. We can forget we even had—” He clasped my cheeks in a gentle grasp. “No one has ever told me that before.” “What?” I whispered after a moment. His eyes were wide, slightly dilated. “No one has ever said they loved me or were in love with me, and actually meant it.” I couldn’t believe that. Not even his mother? Yes, that was a different kind of love, but then I remembered how his mom was and once again I found myself wishing she was alive so I could bitch-slap her into eternity. But to live the years he had, and to never experience any kind of love wasn’t just wrong, it was sad. I wished it wasn’t so. Seth’s hands slid down my neck, stopping where his thumbs pressed against my pulse. “But you . . .” I had a choice here. I recognized that. I could save face and let this go. I could pull away and walk out of this room, but I was hurting for myself and despite everything that had gone on between us, I was still hurting for him. Maybe that. “But I love you.” Seth’s hands shook—his hands. Hands that were always so steady in battle, but they trembled now, touching me. “I don’t deserve that from anyone, but especially from you.” Voice rough and heavy, he searched my face intently. “That is a precious gift that I . . . that I am not worthy of.” I sucked in air. Oh gosh, that hurt. Hearing him say that tore me up, ripped me right apart, and it struck me then. I knew why he had backed off. Him pushing me away had nothing to do with Alex or with me. It was because of him, because of how he believed he deserved nothing more than punishment. That he sincerely believed that the only thing he had was to atone for his past sins. Tears pricked my eyes as I folded my hands over his wrists. I had to prove what he believed wasn’t true. Prove that he was the total of everything he’d done and not just the dark things he was ashamed of, and I would do so, because I loved him and accepted him for who he was, for all his faults. That was what love meant.

Dr. Syngmann: But someone must have made it all. Don't you think so, John? Pastor Jón: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and so on, said the late pastor Lens. Dr. Syngmann: Listen, John, how is it possible to love God? And what reason is there for doing so? To love, is that not the prelude to sleeping together, something connected with the genitals, at its best a marital tragedy among apes? It would be ridiculous. People are fond of their children, all right, but if someone said he was fond of God, wouldn't that be blasphemy? Pastor Jón once again utters that strange word 'it' and says: I accept it. Dr. Syngmann: What do you mean when you say you accept God? Did you consent to his creating the world? Do you think the world as good as all that, or something? This world! Or are you all that pleased with yourself? Pastor Jón: Have you noticed that the ewe that was bleating outside the window is now quiet? She has found her lamb. And I believe that the calf here in the homefield will pull through. Dr. Syngmann: I know as well as you do, John, that animals are perfect within their limits and that man is the lowest rung in the reverse-evolution of earthly life: one need only compare the pictures of an emperor and a dog to see that, or a farmer and the horse he rides. But I for my part refuse to accept it. Pastor Jón Prímus: To refuse to accept it - what is meant by that? Suicide or something? Dr. Syngmann: At this moment, when the alignment with a higher humanity is at hand, a chapter is at last beginning that can be taken seriously in the history of the earth. Epagogics provide the arguments to prove to the Creator that life is an entirely meaningless gimmick unless it is eternal. Pastor Jón: Who is to bell the cat? Dr. Syngmann: As regards epagogics, it is pleading a completely logical case. In six volumes I have proved my thesis with incontrovertible arguments; even juridically. But obviously it isn't enough to use cold reasoning. I take the liberty of appealing to this gifted Maker's honour. I ask Him - how could it ever occur to you to hand over the earth to demons? The only ideal over which demons can unite is to have a war. Why did you permit the demons of the earth to profess their love to you in services and prayers as if you were their God? Will you let honest men call you demiurge, you, the Creator of the world? Whose defeat is it, now that the demons of the earth have acquired a machine to wipe out all life? Whose defeat is it if you let life on earth die on your hands? Can the Maker of the heavens stoop so low as to let German philosophers give Him orders what to do? And finally - I am a creature you have created. And that's why I am here, just like you. Who has given you the right to wipe me out? Is justice ridiculous in your eyes? Cards on the table! (He mumbles to himself.) You are at least under an obligation to resurrect me!

One morning, a farmer knocked loudly on the door of a monastery. When Brother Porter opened the door, the farmer held out to him a magnificent bunch of grapes. “Dear Brother Porter, these are the finest grapes from my vineyard. Please accept them as a gift from me.” “Why, thank you! I’ll take them straight to the Abbot, who will be thrilled with such a gift.” “No, no. I brought them for you.” “For me? But I don’t deserve such a beautiful gift from nature.” “Whenever I knocked on the door, you opened it. When the harvest had been ruined by drought, you gave me a piece of bread and a glass of wine every day. I want this bunch of grapes to bring you a little of the sun’s love, the rain’s beauty and God’s miraculous power.” Brother Porter put the grapes down where he could see them and spent the whole morning admiring them: they really were lovely. Because of this, he decided to give the present to the Abbot, whose words of wisdom had always been such a boon to him. The Abbot was very pleased with the grapes, but then he remembered that one of the other monks was ill and thought: “I’ll give him the grapes. Who knows, they might bring a little joy into his life.” But the grapes did not remain for very long in the room of the ailing monk, for he in turn thought: “Brother Cook has taken such good care of me, giving me only the very best food to eat. I’m sure these grapes will bring him great happiness.” And when Brother Cook brought him his lunch, the monk gave him the grapes. “These are for you. You are in close touch with the gifts Nature gives us and will know what to do with this, God’s produce.” Brother Cook was amazed at the beauty of the grapes and drew his assistant’s attention to their perfection. They were so perfect that no one could possibly appreciate them more than Brother Sacristan, who had charge of the Holy Sacrament, and whom many in the monastery considered to be a truly saintly man. Brother Sacristan, in turn, gave the grapes to the youngest of the novices in order to help him understand that God’s work is to be found in the smallest details of the Creation. When the novice received them, his heart was filled with the Glory of God, because he had never before seen such a beautiful bunch of grapes. At the same time, he remembered the day he had arrived at the monastery and the person who had opened the door to him; that gesture of opening the door had allowed him to be there now in that community of people who knew the value of miracles. Shortly before dark, he took the bunch of grapes to Brother Porter. “Eat and enjoy. You spend most of your time here all alone, and these grapes will do you good.” Brother Porter understood then that the gift really was intended for him; he savoured every grape and went to sleep a happy man. In this way, the circle was closed; the circle of happiness and joy which always wraps around those who are in contact with the energy of love.

She prayed no one had followed, but there were footsteps behind her, gaining steadily. “Miranda! Wait up!” She pretended not to hear. When Etienne grabbed her arm, she gasped as he swung her around to face him. “Come on, cher, where you going?” “It’s a mistake!” Miranda insisted. “What I said at the gallery. I didn’t know anything about it--I made it up!” “You know you didn’t.” She tried to shake him off, but he only held her tighter. “Etienne, please--I need to talk to my grandfather. I need him to explain. I need to understand what this is--what’s happening to me!” “He already told you. You can communicate in ways the rest of us can’t. With people the rest of us can’t.” “Dead people.” Miranda could barely choke out the words. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? That suddenly I’ve got this--this horrible power…” “Gift, cher.” As his eyes fixed on hers with calm intensity, she found it impossible to look away. She wondered if those eyes had eve shown the slightest trace of fear. She wondered why her own fears seemed to be calming inside her, leaving only a quiet resentment in their place. “So I’m supposed to believe that. And accept that. Like it’s perfectly normal.” “Yes. Your grand-père, he always helped them. When they had secrets they needed to share. When they were in pain. He was the only one they could turn to.” Miranda’s heart was an icy knot. “Please don’t tell me this.” “You need to hear the truth. And I promised him.” “This is crazy. You know that, right? Things like this don’t happen to normal people.” Biting her lip, she fought back sudden tears. “Why did that hurricane ever have to hit? Why did I ever have to come here in the first place?” “Because,” Etienne said gently, “maybe this is the place you’re supposed to be.

Iola isn’t a medium or a mentally ill soothsayer. That child enjoys the goddess’s favor. Don’t pull silly faces, if you please. As I said, your view on religion is known to me, it’s never particularly bothered me and, no doubt, it won’t bother me in the future. I’m not a fanatic. You’ve a right to believe that we’re governed by Nature and the Force hidden within her. You can think that the gods, including my Melitele, are merely a personification of this power invented for simpletons so they can understand it better, accept its existence. According to you, that power is blind. But for me, Geralt, faith allows you to expect what my goddess personifies from nature: order, law, goodness. And hope.” “I know.” “If you know that, then why your reservations about the trance? What are you afraid of? That I’ll make you bow your head to a statue and sing canticles? Geralt, we’ll simply sit together for a while—you, me and Iola—and see if the girl’s talents will let her see into the vortex of power surrounding you. Maybe we’ll discover something worth knowing. And maybe we won’t discover anything. Maybe the power and fate surrounding you won’t choose to reveal themselves to us, will remain hidden and incomprehensible. I don’t know. But why shouldn’t we try?” “Because there’s no point. I’m not surrounded by any vortex or fate. And if I were, why the hell would I delve into it?” “Geralt, you’re sick.” “Injured, you mean.” “I know what I mean. There’s something not quite right with you. I can sense that. After all, I have known you ever since you were a youngster. When I met you, you came up to my waist. And now I feel that you’re spinning around in some damned whirlpool, tangled up in a slowly tightening noose. I want to know what’s happening. But I can’t do it myself. I have to count on Iola’s gifts.” “You want to delve too deeply. Why the metaphysics? I’ll confide in you, if you like. I’ll fill your evenings with tales of ever more astounding events from the past few years. Get a keg of beer so my throat doesn’t dry up and we can start today. But I fear I’ll bore you because you won’t find any nooses or vortexes there. Just a witcher’s ordinary tales.” “I’ll willingly listen to them. But a trance, I repeat, would do no harm.” “Don’t you think”—he smiled—“that my lack of faith makes such a trance pointless?” “No, I don’t. And do you know why?” “No.” Nenneke leaned over and looked him in the eyes with a strange smile on her pale lips. “Because it would be the first proof I’ve ever heard of that a lack of faith has any kind of power at all.

I remembered the card from the harem ladies which I had left on my writing desk. When I opened it, a cheque for $16,000 was sandwiched between an Eid Mubarak card and a beautifully scripted message by Nasreen, on behalf of the harem women. It read: “Young, Thank you for your contribution to our make-overs. Please accept our humble gift.” All of the women had signed it. I was touched by this lovely gesture of gratitude and I promised myself then and there that I would make fashion my career. I would help women show their shiny beautiful selves to the world in shiny and beautiful couture!

He rewarded Andy and me handsomely for mentoring his favorite grandson. Our Eid Mubarak greeting card read: “Please accept this gift and a week's vacation to anywhere you’d like as a token of my appreciation for the friendship and guidance you so kindly provided to my grandson. The Simorgh and the Kahyy'am are at your disposal. (Signed) Hadrah Hakim.” Enclosed were two cheques for $3,000 each.

Forgive me, Sophia. I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just coming over to apologize for hurting you during the, er, ceremony.” “It’s all right.” She looked down at the ground, feeling awkward all over again when she remembered the strange sensations that had flooded her body during the Luck Kiss. “No, it’s not. I drew your blood and for that I must beg your forgiveness.” He sounded formal again, just as he had when he was talking to the priestess. “The gift of blood must be freely given—never taken or forced.” “The…the gift of blood?” She looked up at him uncertainly. “Is that some kind of Kindred ceremony?” He looked uncomfortable. “It is part of the mating ritual of the Blood Kindred. And since you have made it abundantly clear you have no wish to be called as a bride, I shouldn’t have taken your blood.” “So if you did call a bride that would be part of it—of your relationship, I mean? You’d always be…biting her?” She couldn’t help looking at his fangs again and feeling glad they were still small. “Only when we made love,” Sylvan assured her as though that made it all right. Sophie felt her stomach do a slow forward flip but she tried not to show her dismay. “That’s…uh interesting.” “And off the point.” Sylvan frowned, as though irritated with himself. “What I’m trying to say is, please accept my apologies and my best wishes for your health and happiness. I truly did not mean to bite you.” “It’s…I know it was an accident but…” She wanted to ask him more. Wanted to know why his fangs had grown when he kissed her. It wasn’t just his fangs that grew, whispered a little voice in her head and a wave of embarrassment swept over her. “Yes?” Sylvan looked at her earnestly but she shook her head. “It’s okay,” she mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “Seriously, I’m fine. Let’s just…leave it at that.” “I appreciate your willingness to put the incident behind us but I need to examine the wound.” “Why?” Sophie asked. “I know you’re a doctor…er medic but—” “I need to know how serious the injury I inflicted was.” He looked so stern that she tilted her chin up to allow the examination. “It’s not bad at all. See?” she pointed at her bottom lip which, to tell the truth, was still pretty sore. Sylvan cupped her cheek in one hand and leaned forward, studying her hurt lip. For some reason Sophie’s face got hot at the gentle touch and she had to close her eyes. What is he looking for? What’s taking so long? She wished he would hurry up and finish the examination. His hand was so warm and the feel of his skin on hers made her nervous. “Is…is everything all right?” she asked at last. “It appears to be.” He sounded cautiously relieved. “I nicked you pretty badly but I don’t think you got any of my essence.” “Your what?” She opened her eyes to see him looking at her intently. Blushing, she looked quickly away. “My essence. It’s…never mind. You should recover normally.” His voice dropped. “I would offer to heal it for you but I don’t think you’d care for my method of healing.” “What do you mean?

He slipped off the bench and took her right hand in both of his as he went down on one knee before her. “I love you,” he said, holding her gaze. “I love you, I cannot foresee the rest of my life without you, and I hope you feel similarly. For only if you do feel similarly will I accept your proposal of marriage or allow you to accept mine.” “You love me?” “For God’s sake.” He was off his knee in an instant, dusting briskly at his breeches. “Why else would I have tried to keep my bloody paws off you when you were just eight and twenty feet down the hall? Why else would I have gone to my father—Meddling Moreland himself?—to ask for help and advice? Why else would I have let you go, for pity’s sake, if I didn’t love you until I’m blind and silly and… Jesus, yes, I love you.” “Westhaven.” Anna reached out and stroked a hand through his hair. “You are shouting, and you mean this.” “I am not in the habit of lying to the woman whom I hope to make my duchess.” That, he saw, got through to her. Since the day she’d bashed him with her poker, he’d been honest with her. Cranky, gruff, demanding, what have you, but he’d been honest. So he was honest again. “I love you, Anna.” His voice shook with the truth of it. “I love you. I want you for my wife, my duchess, and the mother of all of my children.” She cradled her hand along his jaw, and in her eyes, he saw his own joy mirrored, his incredulity that life could offer him a gift as stunningly perfect as the love they shared, and his bottomless determination to grab that gift with both hands and never let go. She leaned into him, as if the weight of his honesty were too much. “Oh, you are the most awful man. Of course I will marry you, of course I love you, of course I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But you have made me cry, and I have need of your handkerchief.” “You have need of my arms,” he said, laughing and scooping her up against his chest. He pressed his forehead to hers and jostled her a little in his embrace. “Say it, Anna. In the King’s English, or no handkerchief for you.” He was smiling at her, grinning like a truant schoolboy on a beautiful day. “I love you,” Anna said. Then more loudly and with a fierce smile, “I love you, I love you, I love you, Gayle Windham, and I would be honored to be your duchess.” “And my wife?” He spun them in a circle, the better to hold her tightly to his chest. “You’ll be my wife, and my duchess, and the mother of my children?” “With greatest joy, I’ll be your wife, your duchess, and the mother of all your children. Now please, please, put me down and kiss me silly. I have missed you so.

God, I’m so sorry. I’ve been living my life for myself. I made everything about me. I’ve been trying to be the hero of my own story. I’ve been squandering the gifts you gave me. Even when I have used your gifts, I’ve tried to use them for selfish gain. That was my choice and my fault. I accept the responsibility for all that I’ve done. And I repent, God. Please forgive me. You promised in your Word that if I confess my sins, you’ll be faithful and just, you’ll forgive me of my sins, and you’ll cleanse me from my unrighteousness. Remember me, God. Show me all of the pillars in my life, the things that have been keeping me from being your man. Then please give me the strength to push them down. My life isn’t about me anymore. I surrender my heart to you, Lord. I want to be your man, telling your story. Your Word says that you adopted me as your son. Thank you that I am not what I have done but that I am who you say I am. Please make my outward life show other people that I’m your man. Father, teach me how to live my life in a way that pleases you, that brings you the glory that only you deserve. Show me how to be the man you created me to be. I am your man. Show this world what you will do through me. Here I am, Lord. Send me. Use my life as you see fit. Show me what battles to fight. I am your man. Thank you so much for all the ways you’re going to use me to accomplish your purposes in this world. Thank you for making me a warrior. In Jesus’ name, amen.

March 12 MORNING “Thou shalt love thy neighbour.” — Matthew 5:43 “LOVE thy neighbour.” Perhaps he rolls in riches, and thou art poor, and living in thy little cot side-by-side with his lordly mansion; thou seest every day his estates, his fine linen, and his sumptuous banquets; God has given him these gifts, covet not his wealth, and think no hard thoughts concerning him. Be content with thine own lot, if thou canst not better it, but do not look upon thy neighbour, and wish that he were as thyself. Love him, and then thou wilt not envy him. Mayhap, on the other hand, thou art rich, and near thee reside the poor. Do not scorn to call them neighbour. Own that thou art bound to love them. The world calls them thy inferiors. In what are they inferior? They are far more thine equals than thine inferiors, for “God hath made of one blood all people that dwell upon the face of the earth.” It is thy coat which is better than theirs, but thou art by no means better than they. They are men, and what art thou more than that? Take heed that thou love thy neighbour even though he be in rags, or sunken in the depths of poverty. But, perhaps, you say, “I cannot love my neighbours, because for all I do they return ingratitude and contempt.” So much the more room for the heroism of love. Wouldst thou be a feather-bed warrior, instead of bearing the rough fight of love? He who dares the most, shall win the most; and if rough be thy path of love, tread it boldly, still loving thy neighbours through thick and thin. Heap coals of fire on their heads, and if they be hard to please, seek not to please them, but to please thy Master; and remember if they spurn thy love, thy Master hath not spurned it, and thy deed is as acceptable to Him as if it had been acceptable to them. Love thy neighbour, for in so doing thou art following the footsteps of Christ.

Praise Him and Thank Him Our prayers for you are always spilling over into thanksgivings. We can’t quit thanking God our Father and Jesus our Messiah for you! Colossians 1:3 MSG Sometimes, life can be complicated, demanding, and busy. When the demands of life leave us rushing from place to place with scarcely a moment to spare, we may fail to pause and say a word of thanks for all the good things we’ve received. But when we fail to count our blessings, we rob ourselves of the happiness, the peace, and the gratitude that should rightfully be ours. Today, even if you’re busily engaged in life, slow down long enough to start counting your blessings. You most certainly will not be able to count them all, but take a few moments to jot down as many blessings as you can. Then, give thanks to the Giver of all good things: God. His love for you is eternal, as are His gifts. And it’s never too soon—or too late—to offer Him thanks. The best way to show my gratitude to God is to accept everything, even my problems, with joy. Mother Teresa The act of thanksgiving is a demonstration of the fact that you are going to trust and believe God. Kay Arthur The game was to just find something about everything to be glad about—no matter what it was. You see, when you’re hunting for the glad things, you sort of forget the other kind. Eleanor H. Porter God is worthy of our praise and is pleased when we come before Him with thanksgiving. Shirley Dobson God has promised that if we harvest well with the tools of thanksgiving, there will be seeds for planting in the spring. Gloria Gaither MORE FROM GOD’S WORD Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift. 2 Corinthians 9:15 HCSB Therefore as you have received Christ Jesus the Lord, walk in Him, rooted and built up in Him and

This is simply a room. A house. My cars take me to meetings and the occasional boring business dinner. I know I have a lot of money, but it hasn’t given me one second of the happiness I have shared with you this past week. You have made me smile more since I met you than I have in years.” He tapped the bag on my knee, anxious. “These gifts are tokens of my thanks. Accepting them, is accepting me.” He hesitated, meeting my eyes. “Please accept me.

Esau asked, “What’s the meaning of all these flocks and herds I met?” “To find favor in your eyes, my lord,” he said. But Esau said, “I already have plenty, my brother. Keep what you have for yourself.” “No, please!” said Jacob. “If I have found favor in your eyes, accept this gift from me. For to see your face is like seeing the face of God, now that you have received me favorably. Please accept the present that was brought to you, for God has been gracious to me and I have all I need.” And because Jacob insisted, Esau accepted it.

Dear Friend, Recently I have suffered a devastating loss. I am grieving, and it will take months and even years to recover from this loss. I wanted to let you know that I will cry from time to time. I don’t apologize for my tears since they are not a sign of weakness or a lack of faith. They are God’s gift to me to express the extent of my loss, and they are also a sign that I am recovering. At times you may see me angry for no apparent reason. Sometimes I’m not sure why. All I know is that my emotions are intense because of my grief. If I don’t always make sense to you, please be forgiving and patient with me. And if I repeat myself again and again, please accept this as normal. More than anything else, I need your understanding and your presence. You don’t always have to know what to say or even say anything if you don’t know how to respond. Your presence and a touch or hug lets me know you care. Please don’t wait for me to call you, since sometimes I am too tired or tearful to do so. If I tend to withdraw from you, please don’t let me do that. I need you to reach out to me for several months. Pray for me that I would come to see meaning in my loss someday and that I would know God’s comfort and love. It does help to let me know that you are praying for me. If you have experienced a similar type of loss, please feel free to share it with me. It will help, rather than cause me to feel worse. And don’t stop sharing if I begin to cry. It’s all right, and any tears you express as we talk are alright, too. This loss is so painful, and right now it feels like the worst thing that could ever happen to me. But I will survive and eventually recover. I cling to that knowledge, even though there have been times when I didn’t feel it. I know that I will not always feel as I do now. Laughter and joy will emerge once again someday. Thank you for caring about me. Thank you for listening and praying. Your concern comforts me and is a gift for which I will always be thankful.26

I have brought a beautiful bouquet of flowers for you today, m'lady. Will you do me the honor of accepting them? Though, of course, when held up against your radiant beauty, my princess... ... even lovely flowers such as these... ... are reduced to mere garnishes that only highlight your exquisiteness even more." "Er! I-I-Instructor Suzuki!" "So, yeah! Anyways... staying cooped up inside battling paperwork all day will wear you out. I brought along a handful of snacks... ... so how about we have ourselves a little tea break, hm?" "Ah! I-Instructor Suzuki, please! You must cease coming here every day like this! I-I am the foremost executive and leader of this Institute! I cannot in good conscience accept such personal gifts! Kyaaa!" "Miss Erina!" "Whoops! You okay? Princess... There. You had a cheese stick stuck in your hair.

In this final of these treatises, Luther spelled out the implications of sola fide (faith alone), which boldly declares that it is faith in Jesus that brings us salvation and not our own moral efforts. Jesus did all that was necessary to bring us to heaven by his death on the cross, and we need only trust in him. But to try to add to what Jesus did with any works of our own is absurd, not to say offensive to God and heretical. We cannot earn heaven by our acts, because Jesus has already done that for us. We need only accept his free gift. And if we see the magnitude of that gift, we are moved to do good things. But it is as gratitude for what God has already done in saving us, not as a way of earning our own salvation. Once we receive God’s free gift of love in Jesus, we are properly moved to want to love him back and to love our fellow man. When God in his sheer mercy and without any merit of mine has given me such unspeakable riches, shall I not then freely, joyously, wholeheartedly, unprompted do everything that I know will please him? I will give myself as a sort of Christ to my neighbor as Christ gave himself for me.

Who Does God Say I Am? The following biblical affirmations about our identity in Jesus Christ are derived from a few selected passages in the New Testament. These passages teach a portion of the many truths about who we have become through faith in God’s Son. Please spend time meditating on each one and letting its truth sink deep into your soul. I am a child of God. But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God. Even to those who believe in His name. (John 1:12) I am a branch of the true vine and a conduit of Christ’s life. “I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser…. I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing.” (John 15:1, 5) I am a friend of Jesus. “No longer do I call you slaves, for the slave does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I have heard from My Father I have made known to you.” (John 15:15) I have been justified and redeemed. Being justified as a gift by His grace through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus. (Romans 3:24) My old self was crucified with Christ, and I am no longer a slave to sin and sarx. Knowing this, that our old self was crucified with Him, in order that our body of sin might be done away with, so that we would no longer be slaves to sin. (Romans 6:6) I will not be condemned by God. Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. (Romans 8:I) I have been set free from the law of sin and death. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death. (Romans 8:2) As a child of God, I am a fellow heir with Christ. And if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Hi.m (Romans 8:17) I have been accepted by Christ. Therefore, accept one another, just as Christ also accepted us to the glory of God. (Romans 15:7) I have been called to be a saint. To the church of God which is at Corinth, to those who have been sanctified in Christ Jesus, saints by calling, with all who in every place call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours. (1 Corinthians 1:2; Ephesians 1:1; Philippians 1:1; Colossians 1:2) In Christ Jesus, I have wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. But by His doing you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification, and redemption. (1 Corinthians 1:30) My body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who dwells in me. Do you not know that you are a temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you? (1 Corinthians 3:16)

9But Esau said, “I already have plenty, my brother. Keep what you have for yourself.” 10“No, please!” said Jacob. “If I have found favor in your eyes, accept this gift from me. For to see your face is like seeing the face of God, now that you have received me favorably. 11Please accept the present that was brought to you, for God has been gracious to me and I have all I need.” And because Jacob insisted, Esau accepted it.

As a young mother, I found that embracing God's call to motherhood once and for all brought me great peace. Instead of seeing fusses and messes as irritations in my day, I was more likely to see them as opportunities to train my children to be peacemakers and to learn to be responsible. Instead of resenting the interruptions to my schedule, I was more likely to accept them as divine appointments. More and more, I learned to see my children through the eyes of God. To fully experience our fulfillment in Christ and fulfill his will for our lives, we must come to the point where we give our whole selves to him — our freedom, our time, our bodies, all of our possessions and gifts — trusting hi, to show us how to use all that we are for his glory. To sacrifice means to give up or surrender something of value. We are living sacrifices, which means that moment by moment, out of our worship for him, we are to surrender our own needs and expectations for the greater value of pleasing the Lord.

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