deepest prayers

INSTAGRAM: loganmartintran 

Reaching for the light // I’ve learned early on in my life that no matter how hard we try, we will always have times in our lives where we find ourselves in dark places. I’m currently in the darkest place I’ve ever been in, and it’s a constant battle for me to remind myself that it doesn’t end here. It’s in these darkest places and in these darkest moments that we are challenged the most; Causing us to learn the most, grow the most, and change the most…and by God’s grace, these dark places can transform into beautiful things. This is currently my deepest prayer and heart’s desire. Let the ruins come to life, in the beauty of Your name.

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Five)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?

My own Jamie,

Almost six months ago, I learned that you survived Culloden. You made history, my darling! Q.E.D.

As many nights as I’ve lain awake in those months cursing myself for not having looked soonerI know I shall thank God every day of my life for the series of events that led me at last to the right pages, to you. When I fully realized what it meant— that you had been spared the death you faced so bravely that April morning, the death that has haunted my thoughts and my nightmares for so long— It was like a wound, the oldest and deepest scar ripped back open, inch by inch. I was completely laid bare from it, from the storm of emotions warring within me: such joy, such anguish for the lost time (how many more years could we have had, Jamie, had I looked?), such fear—and then joy again, because the years of grief could now be ended, and *against all reason!* I could see you again.  

Likewise will I thank God every day for the small voice in my head that nudged me at the very last moment to go first to Lallybroch, rather than to your shop in Edinburgh. Please thank Jenny for me. She explained everything. 

It is for the best, that it happened this way; easier, I think, for all concerned. Perversely, despite the shock, I find myself smiling in this moment: for we promised there would be no lies between us, remember? It is a promise I make to you again, today. You can know, then, with absolute certainty, that it can be no lie when I tell you that I am glad glad and on-my-knees grateful to Heaven that you have found true happiness. 

After all the pain and the loss, the war and the hunger and the suffering you’ve endured, to know that you have a wife with whom you’ve found something new and wonderful; that you have had the joy of holding your own children in your arms, to have seen them be born and grow? It is a balm, Jamie, a comfort to know that despite all the cruelty fate has dealt you—dealt us— you have been blessed with such great and abundant joy. Never would I wish anything less for you, just as I know you would not for me. 

It is my deepest prayer that as you read these words, you will know the truth of them, will be able to feel my heart through the page, and KNOW that from its very depths, I wish you every happiness with your wife and your daughters. 

And yet I couldn’t leave, couldn’t go back from whence I came, without telling you about another little girl, who was born the 23rd of November the year of Culloden. 

I hope the contents of the brown packet, here enclosed, tell you more than any words could about your daughter—our daughter—Brianna Ellen.

Jamie was shaking—no, he was — crumbling

Every breath wrenched through him, agonizing, and the tears were falling, blurring his vision. He had to sit back on his haunches to keep them from dropping onto the page and blurring her precious words. 

Her words

CLAIRE’s

His hands were quaking with

November

with EVERYTHING

Jesus, GOD in 

Couldn’t

He COULD NOT think

Thoughts, words, they were—

They failed him, simply abandoned him as he shook on the study rug. Only his body seemed to know the way, for he was snatching for the parcel, tearing at the string binding the paper. There was an oily, unidentifiable wrapping within, then a layer of soft flannel, and then —   

The sound that escaped him—He didn’t even know there existed such a sound within him. It was terrible and beautiful at once, and though it was in no language, what he felt, his lips over and over formed a word, the only word he could muster: “No….NO….” 

For as though a great knife had cut through those terrible, looming stones on the accursed hill, Jamie held his infant daughter, newly-born, sleeping there in the palms of his hands. The portrait—picture?—painting?—was all in shades of grey, and yet somehow lifelike as a true bairn in miniature before him, like peering through a spyglass straight into that distant life.

He had not a single thought to spare for how, or by what means…

He could only trace the bitty wee fists curled on the blanket, the sweet wisps of hair on the tiny skull.

“Oh, mo chridhe…” 

He couldn’t look away, could not even blink, though tears were coursing downward. 

God, the child —this very child — 

—delivered safely into the world and into the arms of her mother—her mother.

The babe had lived—LIVED.

The pad of his thumb caught slightly as he caressed her cheek, and the portrait slid upward just enough to reveal — “Ohh…Jesus…”

She was grown to a toddling child, eating a cake that was smeared all about her face. And damn him if he didn’t LAUGH amidst the weeping to see just how pleased with herself she looked for it, a cuddly toy raised in triumph like a sword, four wee teeth visible as she giggled out a victory cry.

There she was again, older, standing in a great snowfall, naught but wee cheeks and grinning eyes visible under the great padded suit she wore against the cold. 

Older, still. Three? Four? Sitting proper-like in a pretty frock with her hair combed smooth. 

Such a sweet face—

Older, still, standing with a wee box in her hand beside a giant something with wheels, proud and eager, eyes bright.

And then he was gasping as the spyglass world ignited into blazing, brilliant colors. He saw his daughter’s hair, red and victorious and shining against the black coat of the huge dog she hugged tight; saw the pink flush of her cheeks, spread down her neck as it always did his, when he was happy and exuberant.

On and on flashed the paintings, these captured moments of his daughter’s life.

Going fishing and doing a damn fine job of it. 

Playing uproariously in the sea-surf, splashing and laughing with complete abandon.

Absolutely lovely as as she grew out of girlhood, and God, how vividly he could see Claire in her, as she did—in the lines of her, the way she held her mouth, tilted her head—that broad, clear brow that begged to be kissed, reverently—

Laughing, carefree, safe

Braw and strong as she chopped wood. Good lass!

Gazing softly out a window, seeming not even to notice her image being captured. 

On 

and on

and on 

until he was gasping and looking at the last portrait, of an achingly beautiful young woman sitting on a rock before a fire, making camp for the night, perhaps. Her face was cast in the same golds and red as her hair; the dreams of her heart seeming to dance across her eyes—as they always did her mother’s. His daughter…grown.  

The paintings were strewn all around him on the carpet, a tableau of her; her life. On his knees he bowed over them, overwhelmed and shuddering with great sobs as he looked, and looked, and looked.

She was—

She would be

…..she was well.  

The child HAD been safe.

It hadn’t been for naught. 

He fell, then, and sheltered her like a cloak, keeping his child, his daughter, safe and shielded from the world for just one moment; safe…his….

Brianna


It was only sudden, ripping, screaming panic that yanked him out of the quiet calm, searching wildly, fumbling with desperate hands—

But relief tore from his throat just as suddenly as he found a second page: 

Not everything can be captured in a photograph, of course (that’s what they’re called. Did I ever tell you about them?), and there’s so much I long to tell you about this wonderful person.

Will you believe she’s been taller than me since the age of thirteen? She carries it like a queen, though, like I imagine your mother did. She doesn’t slouch or try to hide. Not Bree. 

Oh, yes: most people call her Bree, for short. 

She bites her nails, when she’s thinking hard. I don’t even think she notices when she’s doing it.

She’s absolutely brilliant, Jamie, studying at one of the top universities in the world to be a historian. You would be so very proud of her. 

She’s not perfect, of course. Perhaps her biggest flaw as half-Scottish is that she HATES whisky, haha. I’ll do my best to win her over, though, don’t you worry. 

She’s a spectacular artist, another way in which she takes after her grandmother. She captures you, completely. 

That statement, actually, is true in more ways than one. Our Brianna is captivating, in every way. 

She’s an absolute wonder with maths and figures —as natural to her as breathing, it seems, just like they are for you. 

She smiles in her sleep, just like her father. 

She’s so like you, Jamie, it breaks my heart. 

After Frank died—But Lord, I haven’t said anything of him. 

It was two years ago. He had a good, full life, and he loved Bree more than anything in the world. He could have been cruel, could have taken out his anger upon the child, the very breathing manifestation of the ways in which I’d betrayed him—but he didn’t. From the moment he first held her, Frank loved her as his own, and while things between he and I were tenuous, to say the least, I will always love him for the father he was to her, for the sacrifices he made for her. I hope that is a comfort to you, and not a blow. 

After he was gone, after giving her time to grieve, it felt important that Bree should know about you, about the stones. It took—well, it frankly took a bloody lot of luck and a jolly good miracle to get her to believe, *but she does.* She loved Frank with all her heart, but she knows now that Jamie Fraser was her father. IS her father. 

You should know that she was instrumental in finding you. She persisted when I would have faltered under the doubts and the fears. As ecstatic and overjoyed as I was at the news that you were alive, I was so afraid Jamie, for you, for me, for Bree. 

Even though I know she, too, was plagued with fears, she remained strong; and she kept ME strong. Even at the very stones, when I was so wracked with guilt over leaving her forever that I would have stayed, for her sake, she was there to strengthen me, to tell me not to look back. She said that she was giving me back to you, and that if I didn’t go, *she* would. ‘Someone has to find him and tell him I was born,’ she said, and she meant it. 

THAT is the kind of person your daughter is growing to be, Jamie: determined, and brilliant, and selfless for the sake of those she loves; *and that includes you.* She asked me to give you a kiss, just from her. I’ve left it here, on the page, for you to keep, always. 

Brianna has been the greatest joy of my life since we parted, a joy that would have been richer only if I had been granted the grace to raise her with you at my side. Thank you for her. THANK YOU for making me go on, for her sake. Despite everything, it has been a good life. Even in those long years of grief, I had the joy of seeing you every day, of seeing your spirit, there in the child of our love. And I’m so very grateful. 

I’ll keep telling her about you. There wasn’t enough time, before I left. She’ll be able hear everything, now. I promise. 

Jamie shook his head hard, fast, feeling for a third page that wasn’t there. “No…” 

Be happy, Jamie Fraser, and LIVE. 

“No,” he moaned. his eyes clinging to the fleeting words, even as he begged them not to stop. “Claire…”

Love, always

“Mo nighean donn, don’t —  

Claire


Those next seconds were everlasting, each terrible, catastrophic truth echoing in his soul like the toll of a great bell, over and over. 

She had been here

Claire had been here

She left

Claire left

Because Jenny—


She was sitting at the bottom of the staircase, crying hard into Ian’s shoulder. When the study door crashed open, her head shot up and she jumped to her feet, her face pure terror. “Jamie, mo ch—”

“When?” He snarled it, and Jenny convulsed with a deep sob like a swallowed scream, and covered her face with her hands. 

Jamie was thundering toward her, a veil of red over his vision as he demanded, “WHEN?” 

Ian—in a shockingly deft and smooth movement given the leg—shot to his feet, shielding Jenny from Jamie’s rage with his body. 

In all truth, the rational parts of Jamie’s mind were glad for Ian’s presence, for that was the only thing keeping the blood rage from taking control, from taking revenge. “WHEN was she here, woman?” he bellowed over Ian’s shoulder,  “How fucking long did ye see fit to keep—”

Ian shoved him, eyes blazing. “You’ll NOT talk that way to—” 

Mor—ning—”Jenny sobbed, her voice a strangled whisper, “—gone before—Jamie! Oh, JamieI ken I’ll—never for—give mys—for—” 

HOW MANY MONTHS?”  he roared, overtaken by despair, overtaken by rage, becoming a nameless beast under it. “HOW MANY YEARS, JENNY?” 

“This morning—” she wailed, “To—TO—DAY—” 

Nothing. 

Silence. 

And then a great wave, tall as a mountain, rose up within Jamie, blasting out everything within him in a single cataclysmic moment of clarity. 

Today

T O D A Y

Then she was—

She could be no more than—

He vaulted up the stairs four at a time, paying no heed to Janet and Wee Ian and the others who were gathered at the top of the staircase, wide-eyed and pale and gaping.

Less than a minute later, he thundered back down past them all, breeks only half-laced under his boots, traveling bag on his back. 

“No,” Jenny moaned, grasping at his sleeve as he passed and trying to hold him back. “Jamie, ye canna—Ye CANNA catch her, she's—GONE—she’s—”

He shook her off, hard enough to knock her off-balance, and ran to the kitchen, shoving what food he could lay his hands on into his sack and moving straight to the door, so crazed with determination he could barely see what it was he took. Food didn’t matter. Fatigue, already tugging at him, didn’t matter. Claire was— 

“Jamie, she’s nearly a day ahead—” Jenny caught the handle just as he did, eyes absolutely wild. “Ye dinna even ken where she’s bound or—” 

He spared his sister one look, and let all the hate and contempt, the rage and the betrayal show there as he growled, “I ken precisely where she’s bound.” 


2

“We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” - Elie Wiesel

Deepest thoughts and prayers go out to the victims of senseless violence in Virginia today. You sacrificed your time, comfort, safety, health, and even your life to stand against against tyrrany, racism, and hatred - your legacy will never be forgotten. Rest in peace, and rest in power.

Allahaljalil.tumblr.com

Assalamu Alaykum, its the fourth year we celebrate Eid as an online family and it has been nothing short of a blessing. I send my deepest and warmest prayers to every single one of you & your families that this Eid is a means of reconciliation, unity and peace. We praise Allah the Most High for allowing us to experience another blessed Ramadan, and pray that He swt grants us the opportunity to see it again next year. May we leave Ramadan purer then it has found us, & I pray that we have utilised this month to create a stronger bond with Allah, His Quran and our beautiful deen Alhamdulillah. May Allah swt grant all of your duas, grant you all happiness health and prosperity, and make us of His righteous servants who don’t stray from His blessed path. Ameen.

EID MUBARAK 🎈💖 From Allahaljalil.tumblr.com

2

Queen Elizabeth II received audiences at Buckingham Palace March 23, 2017

Her message about the terror attack near Westminster:

 'Following the shocking events in Westminster, Prince Philip and I are sorry that we will not be able to open the New Scotland Yard building as planned today, for very understandable reasons. I look forward to visiting at a later date.

‘My thoughts, prayers, and deepest sympathy are with all those who have been affected by yesterday’s awful violence.

Read more:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4342328/Queen-pays-tribute-London-terror-attack-victims.html#ixzz4cADhDXCU

Full Moon Prayer~

Deep breath in

Deep breath out

Hands meet, palm to the palm, at the heart

Under full moon’s divine light, we are about to share the deepest prayer

Not seeking, not desiring, not asking for anything

Here, now, we reconnect to the divine source

Here, now, we are in enlightenment

No words, no words, just silence

Let serenity be

Simply

Be~

anonymous asked:

Alice franca an wonderful person, a dakota and jamie's fan from brazil passed away today. She had complications giving birth to her twins babies. (The babies are well and with health)Please pray for her husband, her littles babies and family. Amen!!!

We are so sorry about this. Our deepest condolences and prayers go to her family & those who love her!

Because of you I am embraced with your love that so much warms my heart. Because of your smile with grace that so much enchants me, my heart is truly and most affectionately yours. You are the reason I believe in true love. You are the reason I believe that two people could be created especially for eachother. You are the reason I believe that God hears and answers the deepest prayers of the heart.

couldn’t sleep last night because of the horrifying and tragic news about the mass shooting in Las Vegas. a city that I’ve visited a countless amount times, a city that people go to enjoy and have fun and escape their everyday lives. a city that houses many of my relatives, and a city that I’ve always loved. my heart is really heavy and i swear it hasn’t stopped pounding since i first saw the news. my deepest prayers and condolences to those who have tragically lost their lives, and their family and friends. this world is so scary and i just wish everyone can be safe.

me and my sister woke up early to take our mom to the doctor’s and i have a meeting (?) date (?) today for 2pm. i barely got any sleep because of everything going on, and all i wanna do is cancel, but it took me and Clark a long time to even set these plans up, and my mom and sister told me maybe it’s better to potentially get my mind off of things. i’m really nervous and anxious for this meeting with him, but also my heart feeling so uneasy because of the news… so it feels like my stomach is in knots. just gotta stay cool and see how it goes.

man. i just feel really down.

Come Back To Me (Reader x Bucky Barnes)

Summary: After years away from the Avengers, Bucky finds himself yearning to be back in the field. However he has much more to lose than he did years ago.

A/N: This is my first time writing anything angsty(?) and I’m not too sure about my ability to convey such emotions. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!


Originally posted by museelo

Originally posted by thechloris



He sat out at the driveway with his head in his hands. His fingers gripped his hair angrily before releasing and gripping the steering wheel. He didn’t know whether he should stay hidden in the car or risk going into the house and have another fight.

He was exhausted; from work, from his failing marriage.

He had perfect view into the kitchen. You were doing dishes; he had come home too late to enjoy a family dinner. He didn’t know whether to feel guilty or relieved. It must had been a mixture of both.

Everyday seems like an intricate dance of avoiding the inevitable talk, desperately holding on the crumbling foundation of your love. But even the most solid foundations crumble and it was becoming more and more difficult to put on a happy face in the morning.

Keep reading

a extending list of ULTIMATE DO and DON’TS for Frozen 2 (yes Disney we’re *wink wink*-ing at you super hard)

(consider this as an opened list. add your deepest prayers in reblogs.)

YES PLEASE DO’S

  • more songs for Kristoff. or at least a duet.
  • Arendelle’s paperwork

JUST DON’TS

  • fire powers for Anna. 
  • love interest for Elsa. 

hufflepuffs-are-strong  asked:

Hello! I heard on twitter about you losing a family member and I'd just like to send my deepest thoughts, prayers and good vibes your way. I promise that even if it takes a long time it WILL get better!! I am also @Dweeboids on twitter btw. i sent you some pics of my dogs :) i have five and one cat. its a mess haha..

Awh thank you so much. My grandmother is still here but she may only have a few days left here. But she is loved so much. I thank you for the kind words

Bismillah.


On the third day of Ramadan, my sincere duas go to single mothers. Mothers, who have fought their way for their children to be happy. Mothers, who are both fathers and mothers to their children.

I pray my deepest prayers for mothers who beautify the shortcoming of fathers. Those who, despite whatever happened between her and your father, will tell you that your father loves you even though he isn’t here with you. Mothers, who will go to extreme lengths for their children to feel equal to other children. I respect mothers, who have the courage of a lion.

By Allah, having a mother is a blessing. Having a strong, independent one, who is determined to provide her children the best life she can, I can’t even begin to describe.

May Allah ease your struggle. May Allah make these very children you fought for worth it. May Allah dry your tears and put comfort in your hearts.

Aameen.