Rachel Hamilton

Author | Writer | Traveler | Child of God | Kiwi Girl



She sit under a tree and thinks about him.

How her heart skips a beat every time he says her name.

His love is pure and unending.

She remembers the first time he held her hand, so gentle, so kind.

But like a selfish child she often turns away, pretending he is not there, searching for his face in those around her, those who give her false attention.

She sees the couples sitting around her holding plastic valentine roses, the girls blushing with joy.

If he truly loved her he would give her flowers, why is she the only one with empty hands.

So she doubts his love, questions his goodness.

Hours pass, those around her pack up and leave, she is left alone feeling so forgotten so unloved.

Then she sees him, his face more handsome than she remembered, his eyes so understanding,

“My darling” he whispers “I know you have waited so long, I know you almost give up hope, I know you doubted my love, but I was preparing wonderful things for you.”

I did not give you a plastic flower because I was planting a rose garden for you.

“You worth is so great that I wanted to give you the very best.”

And as he gathered her up in his arms, she whispered his name “Jesus”.




I am desperate to show the world I am something.

The fear of apathy is real. I want to leave my mark on the world. To say I existed.

Not just survive life but thrive.

But what if I can’t?

What I leave the world with nothing beside my name?

Not a hero, not a success, not even known.

What then?


Love says even if I can not do anything powerful, inspirational or successful, I am something.

I am someones.

Love says I was loved before I breathed my first fragile breath and I will be loved long after.

Love is not about what I give but what I receive.

Love died on the cross for me and rose again so I don’t just survive but truly thrive for eternity.