Monday, September 1, 2014


                                                            FROG IN THE FOG

                "Wake up, Larry," Karen whispered, "Someone is at our window."

               "Ugh,"was followed by Larry roll over.

                "Larry," Karen shook him, "Larry, go see what it is."

                Larry let out mid nightmare moan.

                The unseen thumped window screen.

                "Get up!" Karen pinched his posterior.

                "Mommy!" Larry screamed, "Tha crabs are eating me!"

                "I'm not your Mommy!  I am wife, scared wife.  Someone is breaking into our bedroom window," Karen huffed.

                "What?" Larry raised head, rubbed rear, listened.

                Thump! "Brrrrooookkke!  Brrrrrrrooooookkke!"

                "Its just a frog singing and catching mosquitoes," Larry yawned, crashed head back to pillow.

                "No you don't.  If it is, just a frog, how can I sleep with that green, that thing, ripping through the screen.  Get up and get it away from me, or the crabs will eat Mommy's little boy!" Karen jabbed pincer.

                "Okay already." In the dark Larry hung legs over mattress edge, stood, felt around on night stand for flashlight, knocked it off squarely onto little toe toenail. "Ou-ou-ou-ouch!" He whined.

                "Quit goofing around, Larry!" Karen growled.

                "Lord remind me why I love this woman." The thought accidentally found path to his lips.

                "What!" Karen fumed.

                "I'm going. I'm going." Larry stepped, the flashlight rolled under foot, Larry's legs flew up over his head, head hit floor, his lungs compressed.  Silence...

                "Larry?" Karen turned on reading lamp.

                "Am I dead?" Larry gasped.

                Thump went the window screen!  "Brrrrrrrooooookkke!"

                "Larry, paaa-lease get out there and do something!" Karen seethed through teeth.

                Larry grabbed flashlight, crawled to feet and stomped out bedroom to front porch door. Unlocking, he muttered, "At least I can let Muffin back in; another thing I should-a already done." He opened the door.  Not even the flashlight penetrated the night fog.  "Great, just great," Larry complained.  He flicked on the porch light.  The fog reflected it back as blinding light.  Larry turned it off.  "I guess a little light from the flashlight is better than no light at all," he groaned.

                Something rustled in the wife's flower garden off to the right of the porch and right under bedroom window. "No doubt Muffin is stalking the wife's nemesis as well," Larry deduced.

                The frog in the fog thumped the window screen, again barked warning, "Brrrrrooookkke!"

                The rustling under the window increased.  Larry stepped off porch directly into potted begonias.  Struggling to extract foot from pot, Larry spied the black and white silhouette of Muffin in the fog.  "A stroke of good luck at last," Larry sighed, scooped up his precious kitty.  He rose, brushed the frog in the fog off window screen and headed back in. "Victory at last." He praised self. "After all, finding a black and white cat in night fog is no small feat.  So glad I found you little buddy."  Larry hugged Muffin.  Muffin hugged Larry's neck, rubbed soft furry cheek on his chin and began to purr.  "Love you too little buddy," Larry added, "Let's go cheer up your Momma."

                Triumphant and loved, Larry entered bedroom and strode up to mattress edge. "Say hi to Momma... Muffin..."

                The volume of horror on Karen's face was only exceeded by the decibels of her scream...

                It was then that the startled skunk began to spray...

                Thump went the window screen...  "Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooookkke!"

                                             ...What does the frog say...

                                   ...If it ain't brrrrrrooookkke, don't fix it...

                                     ...What a deep pit, burning lips dig...        

                               ...As the shrill voice reeks,so the skunk stinks...

                                   ...Why stir up trouble where there is none...

       ...Let singing frogs in the fog sing and catch mosquitoes like the LORD designed them to...

                            Proverbs 16:21 & 27; 10:14; 30:33 and Matthew 6:34

                Like that old Pharaoh of ancient Egypt, as recorded in Exodus, focusing on the frog as an idol or as a plague is just misplaced focus.  Focus on what matters, The Living God and his son Jesus...  








Monday, August 18, 2014


                                                         Cat On A Cool Tile Floor

                Twixt Paw Paw Land and Territory of Cooter Cat feline, twas no fence nor borderline.  For all that saw that old Paw Paw and that Cooter Cat agreed in shake head lament, "Now that old man is Cooter Cat bent."  And all went swimmingly well, in the home where the Paw Paw and Cooter Cat did dwell; til once upon a rhyme, granddaughter Autumn came to spend some summer time.  With pet carrier Autumn came to stay and play; and with new puppy dog brought to that poor Cooter Cat near total dismay.

                Now each and every blessed and precious night, it was tradition for Cooter to rest upon Paw Paw chest till morning light.  Then with, "Pffrrrtt-purrr-meow," rub furry cheek to bewhiskered chin and the Paw Paw awake, announcing time for kitty-cat food to partake.

                So twas one such morning that purring tween Paw Paw feet the Cooter Cat lay on the cool tile floor, as granddaughter Autumn cast a tad of frowny face distaste from the kitchen door.  And as Paw Paw opened cat food container, he and that Cooter Cat sang a well rehearsed duet complainer: "I'm hungry and you know it; feed me now.  Meow! Meow!  I'm hungry and you know it; feed me now.  Meow! Meow!  I'm hungry and you know it... Meow, meowww.  So why don't you come and show it... Meow, meowww.  I'm hungry and you know it, feed me now... Meow! Meow!"

                Oh did that granddaughter shake head and accuse from kitchen door, "Bad, bad Paw Paw!  You are supposed to love me more!"

                Paw Paw sighed, "What can one man do, when no one he loves wants to be number two?"  And realizing the eternal gravity of present time... Paw Paw's mood shifted from one of rhyme...

                Paw Paw dished out sustenance to Cooter; turned to Autumn and hugged her tight.  "True, Cooter is my courageous little buddy, fearless in watching over our home, even risking life defending Grammie's chickens and ducks from predators.  When Cooter almost died from wildcat bite, this old skinflint spent mucho dinero at the vet.  And once home, when he was too weak to eat and drink, Paw Paw sang to him that little song you just heard and its comfortable familiarity stimulated Cooter to eat.  No matter how many times I had to clean and dress his wounds, no matter how many times he threw up...  Cooter spent every night and every day in my lap.  I prayed and cried out in the name of Jesus asking the LORD to heal him. So, does this old Paw Paw love his little Cooter?"

                Autumn looked up into the face of Paw Paw, "Yes, but you still shouldn't love Cooter more than me!"

                Paw Paw just kept on a hugging granddaughter.  Autumn's angel face returned to his chest; and Paw Paw uttered the word of Jesus, "Consider the birds of the air, who neither sow, nor reap, nor store up grain; yet they worry not about what to eat, for our heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not far more loved by Him than them?" Paw Paw kissed her forehead, added, "You know how much I love Cooter.  How much more do I love you?"

                Autumn relaxed in his arms, but still registered a tad feather rumpled, "Humph!" Asked, "But who do you love first, Paw Paw?"

                Paw Paw rubbed his cheek in Autumn's hair; rocked her in his arms side to side; answered, "Jesus commands us to above all love the LORD THY GOD with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy mind; and second to love thy neighbor as thyself."  Paw Paw smiled, sighed, "Love GOD first and he provides all our needs; even a special little granddaughter... named Autumn."

                Living joy fell from Paw Paw eyes; then he breathed, "In Jesus name, thank you Father above for my precious little cat on a cool tile floor... but thank You for all my family all the more... Truly You have surrounded me with love..."

                                                      Matthew 6:26 & 22:37-40


                Mark 10:44 - Whoever wants to be first, must be the servant of all.

                Psalm 37:4 - Delight in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart.






Wednesday, July 23, 2014


                                                                 MISSED KISS

                "To dream, perchance to be in body or in spirit, here yet there, I know not," Paul wondered, more wished not true that moment most hoped for, most dreaded.  He looked down.  The tightness of the roller blade laces round ankles testified to the here as now, as did the vibration of not so smooth town pavement beneath.  The sigh of his breath hung in the cool evening air.  Cassie was there, attached to him palm in palm, breathing in unison, slowly skating to nowhere.

                As for Cassie, she too pondered, feared the answer to the question she came to bear.  What damage had thirty years without her carved into his heart?  Would Paul forgive her?  Did Paul still want her? Would his answer be sharp, perhaps coarse?

                Skating somewhere on the ungentle slope of Veritas Lane, Cassie stopped.  She did not let go his hand.  She pulled Paul round to face her.  And face to face she dared ask, "So, how have you been?"

                Paul avoided her eyes, looked over her shoulder, saw on Veritas Lane corner the Church spire, the cross, pointing to heaven.  Light snow began to fall.  He followed solitary flake down to the tip of cute pug nose.  Paul looked into Cassie's amber eyes.  "God, she is so beautiful," escaped his lips.

                Cassie blinked.  What Paul said and how he said it had both flattered yet unsettled her.  "Thank you, I think?" Cassie smiled; asked again that same caring, more probing question, "So Paul, like really, how are you?"

                For more than a tad of a while Paul gathered her into his eyes.  Her hair was shorter, darker, coarser; her right eyebrow only partially hid a not long ago scar; and her neck, well her neck was as remembered, slim, soft, inviting... "I love my wife," he answered.  "I love her no where near as much as she deserves.  She is beautiful, even at our age, she is still beautiful.  A sweeter soul upon this earth, there is none.  She is a good mother, a better grandmother.  She loves Jesus.  She even loves me."

                Cassie ponders all these things, but her heart knows reason that reason knows nothing of... She pulls herself close to him.  Her body presses against him.  Her head tilts.  Her eyes near closing.  Her lips part.  Paul breaths in her familiar sweet breath.  He hugs her tight...

                ...And whispers in her ear, "Every day, every night, for so long I prayed to be with you... Now I pray for you... So many years... I missed your kiss... and so shall I miss your lips to the day I die..."

                ...And they wept...

                As the pure white snow increased flow, Paul looked again unto the cross atop Church steeple; and began witness: "Cassie, Jesus teaches us to  pray in this manner: Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.  Thy kingdom come.  Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread. and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever." Cheek resting in her hair, with all his heart Paul added, "And Cassie, God loves you so much that he gave for you his only begotten Son, Jesus, that if you believe in him, you will not perish, but have abundant life forever."

                "Jesus," Cassie wept into the chest of Paul.

                In a rush the gentle snow swirled about them... and for Cassie the skating to nowhere... became a walking to somewhere... with Jesus...

                Matthew 6:9-13 KJ; John 3:16; Romans 10:13; 1st Corinthians 10:13   



Monday, July 14, 2014


                Knuckles kneading temples, Anida Knapp strained to squeeze out tears.  Her elbows ground into kitchen table as knuckle vise ratcheted tighter.  No tear welled, yet drop fell, crimson drop fell from nose, spattered table top. "Another nose bleed!  Why me?  Why?  Why?" Anida's voice cracked.

                Toting groceries, daughter Serena entered kitchen door, quickly assessed all too familiar Mom meltdown. "Take a chill pill, Mom." Serena sighed, set groceries down, plopped into seat next Mom. "And why the bloody Nile nose?  Could it be as usual, like Pharaoh of ancient Egypt, you just can't let go?"

                "Don't you start with that religious garbage!  I'm not in the mood!" Anida barked.

                "Just because you are not in the mood doesn't make it any less true.  And as for religious garbage, that was Pharaoh's worst flaw.  Except for the Jewish folk, who actually had a relationship with our Creator, Pharaoh and the Egyptians were drowning in a religious sea of animal, nature and stone idol worship.  Now what could possibly go wrong with worshiping the creation rather than the Creator?" Serena would have continued, but...

                "So they did their own thing!  It's got nothing to do with me!"  Gloss of table top mirrored Anida's bloody Nile nose nearing flood stage.

                Serena to the rescue got up, unrolled paper towel, moistened it under faucet, "Mom, tilt your head back." Serena applied cool wet towel to Mom's nose, instructed, "Hold this on your nose and gently pinch."

                "Oweee!" Anida yelped.

                "Gently, Mom, and keep your head tilted back," Serena cooed.

                "I gonna bled ta dead!" Anida dramatized.

                "Now Mom, you are not going to... Well yes, Mom, you are going to die," Serena changed tune.

                "Whad?" Anida squawked!

                "Yep, deader than a charioteer chasing God's chosen people through the collapsing walls of the parted Red Sea.   Because you can't let go..." Serena smiled.

                "Ooh ar obsessethed!" Mom accused.

                "Really?  And what, may I ask, set off my Mom's bloody nasal drip this fair morning?  Did Dad run away?  Did Muffins the cat die?  Home foreclosure?" Serena wondered with purpose.

                "Nud ud doods!" Nasal clog was setting in.  And with head tilted back Anida struggled even harder to enunciate, took deep breath through mouth, poured forth the morning's tragedy, "Da coffee maka brokeedid."

                "So, not only are you obsessed with trivial inconvenience... but possessed by a possession," Serena observed.

                "Bud ed mud coffee furfect!" Anida whined.

                "Mom, you suffer from the ever popular religion of possessions or O.P.D., obsessive possessive disorder, better know as... YOU JUST CAN'T LET GO..." Serena cast a one eyebrow arched stare.

                "Bud I doh wanna et go!!  I... I wad ta fix ed!" All too elusive tears began to flow down Mom's cheeks.

                With loving hand Serena wiped Mom's tears away, soothed, "As Pharaoh learned too late, when you just can't let go, the hardened heart beats destruction.  And Mom, as far as our lives go, there is no such thing as self cleaning... We all need Jesus..."

                                       ...Why be a Pharaoh of what not to be...

                                              Exodus: Chapters 1 through 15





Friday, June 6, 2014


            Twern't unusual at the Autumnville Country Store for the porch planks to squeak song neath the dueling rockers of tres amigos Fred, Ed and Ted.  By mid-morning the rocking chair jockey full gallop race to nowhere rounded last furlong.

            "How can you not see that fuddy-duddy Waffle must resign!"  Ed spittle sprayed air.  He cast faded cap to porch twixt hole-in-toe work boots.

            "Now Ed," said Fred, looped thumbs in suspenders, "don't get so riled.  You might just short circuit your pacemaker, spouting all that politically correct trash about Mayor Waffle."

            "Had waffles for breakfast," Ted yawned the innocent agenda of the well fed.

            Ed retrieved cap, pulled it down hard on his head.  "Waffle just shouldn't a said what he said.  Comparing Mrs. Baker's fudge to pothole tar!  And right in front of the whole PTA!"

            Fred corrected, "Mayor Waffle's exact words were: 'Best tasting pothole tar I ever ate.'  He said that between gobbling down his third and fourth piece of fudge."

            "Fudge?  The perfect dessert for after eating waffles."  Ted's eyes grew heavy, his rocking weaker.

            "Just the same, Waffle ought to make public apology, then resign!"  Ed demanded.

            "So says the mayors losing opponent in last years election."  Fred illuminated Ed bred motive.

            "That's got nothing to do with it."  Ed denied.

            "Sounds like the sour milk of disappointment to me." Fred observed.

            Ed spit over porch railing, insisted, "It is no trifle of annoyance that Waffle disrespected Mrs. Baker's fudge!"

            "Truffle trifles in fudge..."  Ted ceased rocking, as he nodded off, as he chased chocolate truffle trifles neath the caramel oaks of Fudge Land."

            "Well said, Ted."  Fred reflected, smiled.

            "Yep,"  Ed conceded, wondered at his buddy in awe, "How does he do it?  How does Ted seem to always sum up what needs summing up?"

            And lo, the unleashed dream of Ted poured forth from his sleeping lips: "Ye without sin cast the first stone; judge not lest ye be judged; forgive and ye shall be forgiven, but forgive not and ye shall not be forgiven; see first the log in your own eye, before you remove the twig that is in your brother's eye; love God, love one another... from the beginning... to the end... the way... Jesus..."

John 8:7; Matthew 7:1; Matthew 6:14-15; Luke 6:41-44; Matthew 22:37-40; Revelation 1:8 & 21:6; John 14:6

            Hope you enjoyed this prequel to Been There Done That in the September 2013              

Saturday, May 31, 2014


            "When one's only noteworthy trait is invisibility, who notices?  Sure, I might be indescript, but that also makes me undefinable, and undefinable equals unique.  So, I cope.  I cope a lot.  When alone, you cope; you pray in Jesus name... and then you are not alone.  And I am not complaining, because God takes care of me."  Milo frequently thought out loud on the elevator.

            "And you are telling me this why?"  Stern feminine voice asked, added, "I am complaining because I do not know you!"

            "Sorry," Milo had forgotten, he was not alone.  He had not meant to unease the grey dress suit clad lady beside him in the elevator.  "With my luck she is probably the new Dean of Science," he silently stressed to himself.  At least he thought he had said it silently; he stressed all the more.  He stared at the floor the rest of the trip up to third floor Theoretical Physics gig.

            In the hall Milo wondered, "Why is she following me?"  And follow him she did right into classroom and sat on mid front row facing him as he took laptop from tote to table top.  Milo looked around.  He was early.  No one else was there, just him and her, her and him.  He stared straight into her eyes.  Too long, he stared straight into her eyes.

            The lady stood.  Unblinking and staring right  back she strode up to and around his desk.  In eye to eye austerity she stated, "I am Dr. Kimberly J. Jacek, your new Dean of Science."

            "Oh no, sorry," was all Milo had.

            "You are sorry that I am the new Dean of Science?" Kimberley raised eyebrow.

            "Yes... no... sorry," Thru wire rimmed glasses the eyes of Milo found floor again.

            "You know what I think, Milo?  You are Professor Milo Merus, are you not?  Kimberly leaned threateningly forward over the shorter man.

            Milo winced, answered not a word; concentrated on becoming one with the unfeeling cold floor.

            Kimberly leaned closer. "Milo... Milo... I know you are in there, Milo."

            Milo could not speak.  He and floor neared oneness.

            "Milo," the lips of Kimberley whispered in his ear, "do you remember on the elevator I said: I am complaining because I do not know you.  Well, I meant it.  I want to know you, Milo.  You see, I have a thing for short bespectacled math nerds who talk to themselves on elevators... who are humble... and who pray..."

            "Sometimes fogged up spectacles are needed to see clearly the prayer answered," Milo extrapolated out loud.

                                     Psalm 37:11 + Matthew 5:5 = Philippians 4:13

            What is in a name?  Our characters take a bow: Milo Merus: mild & pure; Kimberley Jacek: a royal fortress of good report.



Tuesday, May 27, 2014


             "Too often seldom is life a self-cleaning oven," Ashley whined.

            With lashes a flutter the eyes of Pepa rolled to the back of her skull. "If I wasn't driving, I'd put fingers in both ears," she moaned in her mind, rolled eyes to road, said, "Oh Ashley, if your kitchen needs spiffing up, just say so.  I can help."  On the way back from the mall Pepa concentrated on not audibly grinding teeth after three non-stop whiney hours.

            "Not the point," Ashley groaned.

            "Oh, you mean like: how many dreams does it take to make a lifetime?" Pepa tried to upbeat metaphors, too late realizing the error of choice.

            "My life is no dream!" Ashley barked.

            "Why can you not just lighten up?" Pepa pleaded.

            "Go with the flow?" Ashley nasalfied reply, as only Ashley could.

            "At least flow," Pepa wasn't kidding.

            "Flow?  Flow!  I don't flow because too often seldom any dream I ever had ended up in anything but flames.  That's why I don't flow!" Ashley tiraded.

            "Ashley Anne Pule, you know that is not true!"  Pepa teetered on cheerleader gone rogue.

            "Nooo!"  Extreme nasalification had returned.  "Nooooooo!  Well I wish my brain was a computer, then you could just flip thru each file of failure."  The smug smile of the ungrateful ungraced the face of Ashley.

            "Surely some, at least one of your life dreams must have come true," Pepa took one more stab at pepper-upper, as she steered SUV into Ashley's driveway of doom.

            "Well, I must admit you got me there, Pepa.  Yes, some of my dreams have come true... if you count nightmares!"  A strange sense of self-satisfaction radiated from Ashley's face.

            Pepa laid head on hands on steering wheel.  Slowly her head rose.  Her wide teeth bearing grin and crazy eyes startled Ashley.

            "That's it!" Pepa seethed.

            "Pepa, you are frightening me." Ashley was not kidding.

            The fangs of Pepa spit venom, "You think you are the only one?  The only one who too often seldom rises any higher than a snakes belly in a wagon rut!"

            "Sorry," Ashley gasped, morphed to tears, then full blown sobbing.

            "Great," Pepa pounded forehead into the back of her hands on steering wheel, repeated, "just great!"

            Ashley sobbed.  She sobbed really good; sobbed like the pro she was, then sobbed some more; cranked up the volume along the way, managed to slobber out, "Too... too often seldom does anybody ever love me..."  Tears without levee flooded.

            Head on steering wheel, Pepa reached for and pulled door latch.  She slid feet out door onto that driveway of doom.  Round the SUV to passenger door, Pepa walked the fine line between strangulating or hugging Ashley.  Pepa opened the crying door, put hands round Ashley's throat, with thumbs under chin she tilted Ashley's face up to hers... and softly asked, "Everybody hates you?"

            "Yes," Ashley sobbed.

            "Nobody likes you?" Pepa asked.

            "No... nobody," Ashley bawled.

            "Only one thing to do," Pepa nodded.

            "Yes," Ashley slowed to mid weep, nodded too.

            "Only one thing we can do," the gentle fingers of Pepa wiped tears from the cheeks of Ashley.

            "Only one thing," Ashley punctuated too often seldom ray of hope with sniffle.

            "Come on," Pepa helped Ashley out of seat... "Come on Sweetie..." Pepa soothed.  Arms round friend she helped her to home's door... And over threshold into dark room they passed...

            The lights flashed... Joyful voices sang, "Nobody likes you, everybody hates you, your gonna eat some wor-er-erms... Big fat juicy ones, itsy bitsy squishy ones, see how they wiggle and squir-ir-irm..."

            The eyes of Ashley filled with an enormous chocolate cake in the shape of a bucket; and out of that open bucket forty gummy worms squirmed; and on its side in white frosting were iced the numbers 4 and 0... as well as the letters EAT WORMS ASHLEY...

            ...And the ashes of too often seldom... were washed away gone...

            Sometimes folks murmur in the wilderness for 40 years before they see the promised land... See they were loved all along... Be a friend... Lead someone to Jesus today... John 15:12-17