Wednesday, July 23, 2014

MISSED KISS

                                                                 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

LET GO

                Knuckles kneading temples, Anida Knapp strained to squeeze out tears.  Her elbows ground into kitchen table.  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

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Friday, June 6, 2014

FUDDY DUDDY FUDGE

            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 pawpawcorner.blogspot.com              
 

Saturday, May 31, 2014

THE UNFORGOTTEN

            "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

             "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

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Monday, May 12, 2014

LIKELY AS NOT

            "Likely as not a smidge of a tad is not a lot," Amy's lips sang next salted glass rim.

            "He is married!" Midge warned.

            "So, just a taste," Amy licked salted rim.

            "Kelsy is our host, our friend! How could you even think of hurting her?" Midge sighed.

            "See, George makes you breath heavy too.  That's it!  You want him too!" Amy teased.

            "Amy!" Midge just shook her head.

            "Amy wants," she purred, dark eyes following her prey across crowded room.  Her long red finger nails strummed, clinked margarita glass. "Let the pouncing begin."

            The elbow of Midge found the table.  The palm of her hand found her forehead.  "Dear Lord in the name of Jesus please give George the wisdom to handle this," Midge prayed.

            "Time wasted... is time gone..." Amy was gone... to the huddle...

            "My knee still kills me on rainy days," George half laughed to old teammates Les and Mike.

            Amy slid under George's arm, her left arm round his waste in back, right hand resting on his abs. "What cha doing, boys?" Amy cooed.

            "Temptation beckons," Mike grinned, took a sip of whatever from glass.

            "Purrrdee... done gone too far..." Les did not look away.

            George looked down at the flower in the shade of his arm.  From his face a smile of kindness glowed.  "Do we bear thorns, little rose?  Likely as not a smidge of a tad is not a lot... yet too much..."

            "How, how did you know I said that???" ...The heart of Amy stung... yet grew...


            Likely as not infidelity is more than a smidge of a tad stereo sin... The strange lips of adultery, the stray lips of idolatry are sweeter than honey comb, smoother than olive oil; but the end is bitter, the two edged sword sharp... Wisdom... Proverbs chapter 5...

            Stay close to your spouse... Stay closer to Jesus...



               

Saturday, April 26, 2014

TOO FAR NEAR

            "Sometimes close enough is just too far away," Tony lamented in the ear of next valley over neighbor and best friend, Mel.

            Mel looked up to a too tall in the saddle Tony.  She crinkled freckled forehead.  "Yeah, chums too long, the cloak of closeness," through blue bandana, her lips lamented right along with him.  She silently added the thought, "Together we are indivisible, yet I'm invisible to you."

            "We're getting close," Tony squinted through the dust at the back of the herd.  Over the rise, the yet over a mile away cattle corral had finally come into view against the backdrop of the Horse Shoe Mountains.

            "Nowhere close enough," Mel lifted bottom of bandana and spit grit.  She reined her dapple roan close to the Brown Moose, as Tony called his horse.  She grabbed the reins of Moose and pulled back.  Moose halted.

            Tony looked down at her, said, "What's up, Mel?"

            Mel's jaw locked.  A tear fell from right eye, ran down the dust of her cheek, disappeared into blue bandana.

            Above his bandana the eyes of Tony grew concerned.  "Something bothering you, Mel?"

            Mel fought it, but the dam of cowgirl toughness burst.  She wept; threw in a few convulsions for lost hope measure; cried out, "The too far near... are too often alone." She wept some more.

            Tony pulled down his bandana.  The stone of his chiseled face melted away.  He reached over.  He pulled down that dusty tear washed rag from her freckled face.  He bent over.  His lips touched hers.

            No cattle got worked that day... but dust floated... floated away in the waters of a favorite nearby childhood swimming hole... of many years ago...
         
         
            Suggest you might want to read The Song of Solomon, a powerful book of love in the most powerful book of love ever written, the Holy Bible.