Every Desk Needs an Owner

2008-03-18T18:19:00.000-07:00

Well, this is my first post I've ever submitted to this particular blog. So let's get the boring information over and done with, shall we?

Random information about this blog:

Firstly, my template changes a lot. Simply because I change as well and so do my moods, views etc.
My music changes a lot as well. It will be either a weekly or monthly thing. They are usually songs that have captured my week or songs that I've liked this week.

My header "The Prayer Desk" was scribbled by me this morning. Feel free to use it for whatever purposes.

The cartoon drawing of me, featured in my profile was done by Alice as a gift. Yeah, that's probably the closest thing you're going to get of a photo of me.

So, Why the prayer desk?

The strange buzz, that distorts my dreams every morning, goes off. The cursed alarm clock.
Opening my sleepy eyes, the first thing I always notice is it's still dark outside. I roll onto my back and drag myself from the warm tavern that my blankets have created. The cold rush of air hits me and I embrace it. Shivering, I jump out of bed and hit "OFF " on my alarm clock and silence reigns again.

Everything seems so peaceful in the dead darkness of the mornings. Wrapping my arms around my frozen form, I walk towards the north of my bedroom where my old desk lies. On the way, I grab my dressing gown, thankful for the warmth it starts to create.

I run my hand along the lacquered, wooden surface of the desk; it feels so cold that it could be easily mistaken as wet. My hand hits something that appears to be a book of some sort. Moving my hand across it, I smile to myself. It feels like tired, worn leather and I know...
He is calling.

This desk not only holds things on the physical realm; such as poetry, songs and journal entries that I've made, but it contains so much more.

It contains my thoughts, dreams, hopes and goals; whether they be past or present. My memories, the good sort that make my heart shudder with joy at the very thought of them; And the not so good ones that are best left undisturbed because they're filled with sorrow, hurt and sadness.

It contains secrets and fears that no human soul knows. It also holds my emotions. Sorrow, unspeakable joy, love, hate, sadness, happiness, defeat, confusion, triumph...

But it holds something so precious to me... so valuable, more than silver or gold to me. It contains my Bible readings, my thoughts on the Lord and what He has been teaching me weekly, through scriptures and people. It has quotes from my favourite authors and hymns.

Turning on my orange, desk lamp, the light penetrates the room with a hint of orange. I let my eyes adjust and I quietly sit down on the white, wicker chair that has served me faithfully for ten years. Cracking my fingers, I grab the nearest pen...

And begin writing.