How does insomnia happen? Well, first ya get up to tend to a mild case of salmon croquette roulette, fully intent on crawling back in bed to blissful sleep. Of course ya are kinda stumblin round n-all, being half asleep, when bladder splatter alert over rides heartburn.
After pressure overload averted, as usual the mandatory hand washing is interrupted by soap bar squirting out of hand to bathroom floor parts unknown. And of course while unsuccessfully trying to find tha soap, being bent over n-all, stomach contents shift to throat as burning beacon of original goal, indigestion correction.
Back in the kitchen, of course when ya reach into overhead cabinet for the near full box of seltzer packets, it falls, it spills, everywhere and then some. So, after retrieving packets from all over the kitchen floor, cabinet top, microwave top and stove top, and the box is still half empty, ya realize that ain't all the seltzer packets. So where are they? Ahh! In the toaster of course!
So, now almost fully awake, but not quite, of course ya turn toaster upside down to dump out the packets. Half an hour later, after cleaning up charred bread crumbs from like everywhere imaginable, ya finally get the seltzer all-a-fizz in mug of water; and after wiping up the of course I spilled the water too... eyes are all a tingly, one wide open, the other shade half drawn, sans sleep... and I still got that heartburn...
At this point I tried to muster up a I should a stayed in bed pity party, but instead unexpected chuckle escaped lips. I wondered... why... why am I not aggravated like I most usually would be...
Then was when I felt the smile of God... Did you not pray for a story to tell...
Man's medicine or Gods cure... Sometimes indigestion just needs trust and patience to pass... after a little prayer... asked in Jesus name..
Isaiah 55:9 KJ, "For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts."
Isaiah 55-all & Isaiah 40-all
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Thursday, December 4, 2014
CALL ME AMBI
Though Ambi said little, she knew that some, perhaps all, bear no less than at least one thorn; a thorn in the flesh innate born. And Ambi knew too why carve out with scalpel, when one wee pair of tweezers will do; or even one better for some, for her, to leave thorn lone, that thorn be like the dropping of other shoe. Indeed Ambi said little, for the fewer the words, the more thought before. Ambi said little, for by her thorn in the flesh, by her stammering stutter, her fewer words were made better, even made strength in weakness. "S-s-sta-sta-stutter ba-ba-ba-better," Ambi often smiled at her often thought. And thus though a stutterer be, Ambi cast miles of smiles alee.
So, Ambi's dance of life continued on, not switched off to the goal before her. There were things to be done. And when one, or more often yet some, anywhere near Ambi applied the big put down, the noose was loosed by unseen hand, til... well you all shall see the Ambi waves of sea...
"I can't take it anymore!" Bella bleated.
"Or give any less," Lesley anted in.
"Oh, give her a break!" Satirra in mean girl glee chimed in, "We all know Bella is more a give-up, than a go-to kind of gal."
"See, that is exactly what I mean, people always putting me down. How is a girl ever going to stand her ground with so much negativity all around." Bella felt the pile heaped on.
All eyes shifted to the silent one, who of stuttering tongue, Ambi offered none, but upon them eyes of love shone. Then Ambi looked down, down at her feet; shuffled shoe forward, lifted toe, wiggled it round, tilted it to and tilted it fro, till even the shoe bared its sole.
All eyes turned to odd event. Even others on that crowded street corner, who had heard Bella's bleat, stopped their lopping gate of day, to see what else Ambi had to say.
But not one word from Ambi came into play. The one shoe she withdrew, pulled it back under her to support the view of other shoe. And still looking down, Ambi shuffled it forward, lifted toe, wiggled it round, tilted it to and tilted it fro, till other shoe bared its sole.
And it came to pass, Lesley then Satirra gave Bella a hug. Even others on street corner gave Bella a friendly wink, a pat on back, or a shoulder tug...
...And Ambi looked up from her feet, looked upon all with eyes of love, and blessing at last finally said, "Wa-wa-wa-walk wa-wa-wa-with... not on..."
"After all," Bella smiled, "whose feet don't stink?"
Romans 3:23; 6:23; Psalm 119:105; James 1:22
Why did Jesus wash the feet of his disciples? John 13:14 KJ, "If I then, your Lord and Master have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you."
So, Ambi's dance of life continued on, not switched off to the goal before her. There were things to be done. And when one, or more often yet some, anywhere near Ambi applied the big put down, the noose was loosed by unseen hand, til... well you all shall see the Ambi waves of sea...
"I can't take it anymore!" Bella bleated.
"Or give any less," Lesley anted in.
"Oh, give her a break!" Satirra in mean girl glee chimed in, "We all know Bella is more a give-up, than a go-to kind of gal."
"See, that is exactly what I mean, people always putting me down. How is a girl ever going to stand her ground with so much negativity all around." Bella felt the pile heaped on.
All eyes shifted to the silent one, who of stuttering tongue, Ambi offered none, but upon them eyes of love shone. Then Ambi looked down, down at her feet; shuffled shoe forward, lifted toe, wiggled it round, tilted it to and tilted it fro, till even the shoe bared its sole.
All eyes turned to odd event. Even others on that crowded street corner, who had heard Bella's bleat, stopped their lopping gate of day, to see what else Ambi had to say.
But not one word from Ambi came into play. The one shoe she withdrew, pulled it back under her to support the view of other shoe. And still looking down, Ambi shuffled it forward, lifted toe, wiggled it round, tilted it to and tilted it fro, till other shoe bared its sole.
And it came to pass, Lesley then Satirra gave Bella a hug. Even others on street corner gave Bella a friendly wink, a pat on back, or a shoulder tug...
...And Ambi looked up from her feet, looked upon all with eyes of love, and blessing at last finally said, "Wa-wa-wa-walk wa-wa-wa-with... not on..."
"After all," Bella smiled, "whose feet don't stink?"
Romans 3:23; 6:23; Psalm 119:105; James 1:22
Why did Jesus wash the feet of his disciples? John 13:14 KJ, "If I then, your Lord and Master have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you."
Sunday, November 16, 2014
GOOD GRAVY
"Where's the gravy?" Echoed within the walls of the Sun Rise Diner and the ears of Flo. Plate laden with scrambled eggs, smoked bacon and buttermilk biscuits barely on table alit, before Roy ism-ized, "Life is just too short... not to have no gravy."
"You are a regular gravy savage, Roy. But before you go on the warpath, Cookie needs a sec to whoop up a fresh batch," Flo placated.
"Fresh batch!" Roy fained offense, "I needs me gravy aged and gamy. Gravy that can stand on its own two hind legs, put up a fight! Gravy that's got a be chewed, subdued..."
"... not no knock kneed whiney sissy gravy, but gravy with some sass!" Flo recited rest of all too familiar rant.
"AAaaarrrr - aa-rrr-rrrr!" Roy laughed a hearty. "Hey Flo, you forgot to roll yer eyes when ya said that." He chuckled a tad more.
"My eye rollin days are on hold, Roy. It's the only part of me that ever gets a vacation round here." Flo sighed.
"Aww Flo, you know you'd miss me too much to take a vacation." Roy laughed, but half hoped Flo might someday declare her love.
"Miss you? Roy, you eat near three meals a day, six days a week in this greasy spoon; every meal smothered in gravy; gravy that with every bite gets you one step closer to being permanently missed. Sometimes good gravy... is no gravy at all." Flo raised right eyebrow.
"I'd rather bleed gravy, than choke on salad!" Roy mattered the fact, "God created the rabbit to mow that garden of old, not Adam and Eve."
"Oh, like they didn't eat fruit?" Flo shot back.
"We all know how that worked out, now don't we." Roy observed.
"Well Roy," Flo looked down nose at him, pontificated, "what if there is no gravy in heaven?"
"Flo, ya ought ta know: It's on earth that we oft as not fall off the gravy boat; but when we reach home port... it's all gravy in heaven."
Flo smiled, "Now that sure is deep for one old Roy boy. Ya know, I might even ask you to go to church with me Sunday," She paused to make sure Roy boy ears did heed, "but on certain conditions."
"Anything for you, Flo." Roy boy heart swam the Swoony River.
"So, next time you eat here," Flo cooed, "let me order for you, say a broiled steak instead of chicken-fried, and a pile of green beans to go along with them mashed tatters."
"As long as them green beans got just a dribble or two a gravy on top, I..." Flo hug most near knocked old Roy boy out a chair. "GOOD GRAVY!" Echoed within the walls of the Sun Rise Diner and within the heart of Flo... And Roy hugged Flo back, and said, "Sometimes ya gotta give up the gravy... ta get the real gravy..."
...And it came to pass on a certain sunny Sunday morning, that sitting in church next to Flo, Roy prayed, "Thank you LORD above for turning this old boys lonesome heart... to one a dancin..."
Good gravy is best... when seasoned with Jesus' love...
Psalm 30:11-12
"You are a regular gravy savage, Roy. But before you go on the warpath, Cookie needs a sec to whoop up a fresh batch," Flo placated.
"Fresh batch!" Roy fained offense, "I needs me gravy aged and gamy. Gravy that can stand on its own two hind legs, put up a fight! Gravy that's got a be chewed, subdued..."
"... not no knock kneed whiney sissy gravy, but gravy with some sass!" Flo recited rest of all too familiar rant.
"AAaaarrrr - aa-rrr-rrrr!" Roy laughed a hearty. "Hey Flo, you forgot to roll yer eyes when ya said that." He chuckled a tad more.
"My eye rollin days are on hold, Roy. It's the only part of me that ever gets a vacation round here." Flo sighed.
"Aww Flo, you know you'd miss me too much to take a vacation." Roy laughed, but half hoped Flo might someday declare her love.
"Miss you? Roy, you eat near three meals a day, six days a week in this greasy spoon; every meal smothered in gravy; gravy that with every bite gets you one step closer to being permanently missed. Sometimes good gravy... is no gravy at all." Flo raised right eyebrow.
"I'd rather bleed gravy, than choke on salad!" Roy mattered the fact, "God created the rabbit to mow that garden of old, not Adam and Eve."
"Oh, like they didn't eat fruit?" Flo shot back.
"We all know how that worked out, now don't we." Roy observed.
"Well Roy," Flo looked down nose at him, pontificated, "what if there is no gravy in heaven?"
"Flo, ya ought ta know: It's on earth that we oft as not fall off the gravy boat; but when we reach home port... it's all gravy in heaven."
Flo smiled, "Now that sure is deep for one old Roy boy. Ya know, I might even ask you to go to church with me Sunday," She paused to make sure Roy boy ears did heed, "but on certain conditions."
"Anything for you, Flo." Roy boy heart swam the Swoony River.
"So, next time you eat here," Flo cooed, "let me order for you, say a broiled steak instead of chicken-fried, and a pile of green beans to go along with them mashed tatters."
"As long as them green beans got just a dribble or two a gravy on top, I..." Flo hug most near knocked old Roy boy out a chair. "GOOD GRAVY!" Echoed within the walls of the Sun Rise Diner and within the heart of Flo... And Roy hugged Flo back, and said, "Sometimes ya gotta give up the gravy... ta get the real gravy..."
...And it came to pass on a certain sunny Sunday morning, that sitting in church next to Flo, Roy prayed, "Thank you LORD above for turning this old boys lonesome heart... to one a dancin..."
Good gravy is best... when seasoned with Jesus' love...
Psalm 30:11-12
Friday, October 17, 2014
THE RUSH TO CAUTION
That old road... that old road down yonder... is just about as long... as it is long..." Luke drawled, took sip of wine, burped.
The cancer of stale cigarette smoke and sour beer ate dim lit air. On a tad too sticky bar a cockroach used feelers to test tepidity of beer mug condensate; but before quenching thirst scurried away at the movement of Luke's hand, as he laid it on the shoulder of bewildered man.
Lonesome tear drifted down stream, water-falled from weathered cheek, rippled pool of headless beer in bewildered man's drink. "I just wish... I could be happy all the time," he near wept.
"Ya know," Luke paused, "I once knew a man with only one leg, and he was hoppy all the time."
"That is not funny," bewildered man chuckled cry.
"Tha point be," Luke addressed issue, "not to make fun of such folks, but to help you understand that you need to be careful what you wish for. If you get nothing else, get this... there is only one sure way to cure them honky-tonk blues... get out of the honky-tonk... get into Jesus..."
"Luke, you been comin' round this here bar for nigh forty years. I neva' took ya for no Jesus freak!" Bewildered man eyebrow raised.
"True, true, I'm a sinner just like you. Except I been forgiven, even saved." Luke smiled.
"Good grief, stop afore you violate my political correctness. Next thing you know, you'll probably bring a Bible in here or sump-um." Bewildered man raised mug, took hearty chug.
"The B-I-B-L-E, this is the book for me." Luke popped Bible from shirt pocket.
Bewildered man choked on his beer, forced it down hard, wheezed in a few short breaths. "I don't need no condemnation," he gasped, "I just need my gratification."
"Jesus did not come to condemn, but to save." Luke smiled, "Ya see, its not Jesus, but folks that rush to a lotta things they shouldn't: judgment, condemnation, intolerance, all being favorites. And ya might say condemnation is the tyranny of the intolerant; but here in the good old U.S. of A. we got one equally as bad: political correctness, the tyranny of over-tolerance even unto abiding evil, even to taking away our right to freedom of speech, or as I like to call it... the rush to caution."
"But one man's sin is another man's fun." Bewildered man to sin so clung.
The shaking under their feet was barely perceptible, until the structure of the building began to rattle... until the front door burst open... cue balls on pool table blew to table end... empty chairs scooted along floor... drinks spilled... a table flipped over... a woman screamed... bewildered man's cap flew from his head...
As Luke's long hair slapped at his face, he smiled, he said, "Like dust in the wind... so is caution without care..."
The white knuckle grip bewildered man had on the bar was slipping. About to be blown away, bewildered man cried out, "Jesus... save me..."
The wind ceased... through opened door the light returned... a great calm entered the bar... fresh smell of cleansing rain filled the air...
Jesus loves me," said an awed, but no longer bewildered man.
"Happiness is a relative thing... especially when one becomes a relative of Jesus... Yet many wonder why... til they look the Holy Spirit in the eye..." Luke took sip of wine... and began quoting, "That old road down yonder is the Roman Road to Salvation found in the Holy B-I-B-L-E." And Luke from his Bible read the how and the why, the very signs on that Roman Road: Romans 3:23; 6:23; 5:8; 10:9; 10:10; 10:13; 5:1; 8:1; 8:38-39.
A quote or two from the perfectly not politically correct, Jesus: the book of John 3:16-18 KJ, "16)For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. 17)For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. 18)He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God." And... John 8:12 KJ, "I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life."
The cancer of stale cigarette smoke and sour beer ate dim lit air. On a tad too sticky bar a cockroach used feelers to test tepidity of beer mug condensate; but before quenching thirst scurried away at the movement of Luke's hand, as he laid it on the shoulder of bewildered man.
Lonesome tear drifted down stream, water-falled from weathered cheek, rippled pool of headless beer in bewildered man's drink. "I just wish... I could be happy all the time," he near wept.
"Ya know," Luke paused, "I once knew a man with only one leg, and he was hoppy all the time."
"That is not funny," bewildered man chuckled cry.
"Tha point be," Luke addressed issue, "not to make fun of such folks, but to help you understand that you need to be careful what you wish for. If you get nothing else, get this... there is only one sure way to cure them honky-tonk blues... get out of the honky-tonk... get into Jesus..."
"Luke, you been comin' round this here bar for nigh forty years. I neva' took ya for no Jesus freak!" Bewildered man eyebrow raised.
"True, true, I'm a sinner just like you. Except I been forgiven, even saved." Luke smiled.
"Good grief, stop afore you violate my political correctness. Next thing you know, you'll probably bring a Bible in here or sump-um." Bewildered man raised mug, took hearty chug.
"The B-I-B-L-E, this is the book for me." Luke popped Bible from shirt pocket.
Bewildered man choked on his beer, forced it down hard, wheezed in a few short breaths. "I don't need no condemnation," he gasped, "I just need my gratification."
"Jesus did not come to condemn, but to save." Luke smiled, "Ya see, its not Jesus, but folks that rush to a lotta things they shouldn't: judgment, condemnation, intolerance, all being favorites. And ya might say condemnation is the tyranny of the intolerant; but here in the good old U.S. of A. we got one equally as bad: political correctness, the tyranny of over-tolerance even unto abiding evil, even to taking away our right to freedom of speech, or as I like to call it... the rush to caution."
"But one man's sin is another man's fun." Bewildered man to sin so clung.
The shaking under their feet was barely perceptible, until the structure of the building began to rattle... until the front door burst open... cue balls on pool table blew to table end... empty chairs scooted along floor... drinks spilled... a table flipped over... a woman screamed... bewildered man's cap flew from his head...
As Luke's long hair slapped at his face, he smiled, he said, "Like dust in the wind... so is caution without care..."
The white knuckle grip bewildered man had on the bar was slipping. About to be blown away, bewildered man cried out, "Jesus... save me..."
The wind ceased... through opened door the light returned... a great calm entered the bar... fresh smell of cleansing rain filled the air...
Jesus loves me," said an awed, but no longer bewildered man.
"Happiness is a relative thing... especially when one becomes a relative of Jesus... Yet many wonder why... til they look the Holy Spirit in the eye..." Luke took sip of wine... and began quoting, "That old road down yonder is the Roman Road to Salvation found in the Holy B-I-B-L-E." And Luke from his Bible read the how and the why, the very signs on that Roman Road: Romans 3:23; 6:23; 5:8; 10:9; 10:10; 10:13; 5:1; 8:1; 8:38-39.
A quote or two from the perfectly not politically correct, Jesus: the book of John 3:16-18 KJ, "16)For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. 17)For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. 18)He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God." And... John 8:12 KJ, "I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life."
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
FINDING AMNESIA
Gone but not gone, like a contrary pet hiding under the house, amnesia had been missing for quite some time. "Funny," Cheryl laughed, "how that nonexistent hammers the brain; hammers relentlessly, yet not quite savagely enough to destroy the tissues containing memories, so very funny." Her dry insomniac eyes hurt to blink.
Across kitchen table, Mercie yawned, took sip of black coffee. "Ya know, Cheryl," Mercie yawned again, "if you were anybody else who knocked on my door at 4:15 in the pitch dark morning," the eyes of Mercie narrowed, "I'd a greeted ya with a bat!"
"Mercie, you always are a tad cranky, especially in the A.M." Cheryl giggled.
"Four A.M.!" Mercie grumbled.
"Oh, its later than that," Cheryl reasoned.
"A lot later than you think." Mercie did not blink. "Lord help me, my name may be Mercie, but I'm just a little girl, well, medium, er large sized old gal. Help me!"
"I am so sorry." Through eyes of Mercie, Cheryl caught glimpse of her own selfishness. She leaned on table to rise and leave.
"Not so fast, little missy!" Mercie patted Cheryl's hand before it left table. "Sit!" Mercie growled. "Seeing as how the fact is that your insomnia is not just your own, but mine also; I have decided to cure you, yes, even heal you... before I kill you!"
Cheryl giggled, although a tad nervously, "Perhaps I might come over a bit later... in the day... maybe?"
No, its healing time, sister! Enough already! You been whining over that Jack McMorron guy for over ten years." Mercie took sip of coffee, sat it down not lightly.
"His name is Jokull Moraine and its only been a year and a half." Cheryl whined.
"Seems closer to twenty." Mercie half chuckled, then sort a fazed out in blinkless stupor, coffee mug half way to lips.
Over rim of coffee mug the eyes of Cheryl smiled. These too early in the morning soul searches oftentimes required the rebooting of Mercie. Cheryl rose, retrieved percolator carafe from stove top, stood by Mercie, rested hand on her shoulder, asked, "Need a refresher?" She poured coffee.
"Truth be told... truth be told... would be refreshing." Mercie blinked, as if message received from above. She took sip of coffee. "It would seem that if only you could find amnesia, you, my dear Cheryl, beloved friend, might find rest. But is that really the answer? The big picture involves more than just letting go memories of that McMorron guy."
"His name is Moraine." Cheryl cringed; just the thought of no more Moraine made heart ache. Carafe of coffee still in hand, Cheryl collapsed in chair next Mercie,
Mercie gathered Cheryl's hands in hers. "Finding amnesia is not the answer. Finding Jesus is. Move forward with Jesus; worry bout nothing, but pray about everything. Ask in Jesus name of our Heavenly Father... and his peace which surpasses all understanding shall keep your heart... Let us pray together..."
Our characters take a bow:
Mercie: mercy, grace, clemency, charity, favor, compassion, forbearance, price paid.
Cheryl: dear friend (Welsh)
Jokull Moraine: glacier of ice (Scandinavian); stone rubble deposited by a glacier (French)
Heavenly Father: The Living God - The Creator.
Jesus: His Son - our Savior.
Matthew 11:28-30; Philippians 4:4-7
Across kitchen table, Mercie yawned, took sip of black coffee. "Ya know, Cheryl," Mercie yawned again, "if you were anybody else who knocked on my door at 4:15 in the pitch dark morning," the eyes of Mercie narrowed, "I'd a greeted ya with a bat!"
"Mercie, you always are a tad cranky, especially in the A.M." Cheryl giggled.
"Four A.M.!" Mercie grumbled.
"Oh, its later than that," Cheryl reasoned.
"A lot later than you think." Mercie did not blink. "Lord help me, my name may be Mercie, but I'm just a little girl, well, medium, er large sized old gal. Help me!"
"I am so sorry." Through eyes of Mercie, Cheryl caught glimpse of her own selfishness. She leaned on table to rise and leave.
"Not so fast, little missy!" Mercie patted Cheryl's hand before it left table. "Sit!" Mercie growled. "Seeing as how the fact is that your insomnia is not just your own, but mine also; I have decided to cure you, yes, even heal you... before I kill you!"
Cheryl giggled, although a tad nervously, "Perhaps I might come over a bit later... in the day... maybe?"
No, its healing time, sister! Enough already! You been whining over that Jack McMorron guy for over ten years." Mercie took sip of coffee, sat it down not lightly.
"His name is Jokull Moraine and its only been a year and a half." Cheryl whined.
"Seems closer to twenty." Mercie half chuckled, then sort a fazed out in blinkless stupor, coffee mug half way to lips.
Over rim of coffee mug the eyes of Cheryl smiled. These too early in the morning soul searches oftentimes required the rebooting of Mercie. Cheryl rose, retrieved percolator carafe from stove top, stood by Mercie, rested hand on her shoulder, asked, "Need a refresher?" She poured coffee.
"Truth be told... truth be told... would be refreshing." Mercie blinked, as if message received from above. She took sip of coffee. "It would seem that if only you could find amnesia, you, my dear Cheryl, beloved friend, might find rest. But is that really the answer? The big picture involves more than just letting go memories of that McMorron guy."
"His name is Moraine." Cheryl cringed; just the thought of no more Moraine made heart ache. Carafe of coffee still in hand, Cheryl collapsed in chair next Mercie,
Mercie gathered Cheryl's hands in hers. "Finding amnesia is not the answer. Finding Jesus is. Move forward with Jesus; worry bout nothing, but pray about everything. Ask in Jesus name of our Heavenly Father... and his peace which surpasses all understanding shall keep your heart... Let us pray together..."
Our characters take a bow:
Mercie: mercy, grace, clemency, charity, favor, compassion, forbearance, price paid.
Cheryl: dear friend (Welsh)
Jokull Moraine: glacier of ice (Scandinavian); stone rubble deposited by a glacier (French)
Heavenly Father: The Living God - The Creator.
Jesus: His Son - our Savior.
Matthew 11:28-30; Philippians 4:4-7
Thursday, September 18, 2014
WINGLESS IN BIRD LAND
"Flightless," Bernie Fetter mumbled daily lament, "wingless in bird land. Why was I born this way? Why was I hatched at all?" Emu like legs propelled Bernie through needing a mow grass toward newspaper.
"Hi Bernie," from lily lined walkway, widow Mattie Freer waved paper.
"Why is her paper always on the walk and mine eternally in the dew?" His festering brain complained, but he said, "Good morning, Mrs. Freer." Morning ritual complete, Bernie turned back toward front door, oblivious to the fact that Mrs. Freer's early greetings had increased in occurrence over recent months. But oblivious he was not to the rising sun revealing silhouette of long legs through house coat. "Long and beautiful," Bernie thought, "unlike my bird legs."
And so went morning in-idyllic. While one preened, the other squawked. While one danced, the other plodded. While one moved on, the other ground in. Till one faithful day...
"Hi Bernie." Mattie waved paper.
"Good morning Mrs. Freer." Bernie averted eyes from rays of sun passing through house coat; it only reminded him of how ugly he perceived himself to be; and "I shouldn't," he thought, "be admiring Sonny's wife at all. Sonny Freer was the closest thing to a friend I ever had. Lord, I miss him." Bernie headed back to earth bound nest. Door knob in hand...
"Bernie, Bernie." Mattie Freer interrupted his doom of gloom trance... "Bernie, can you come over here, perchance?"
Bernie cracked open door to nest. Got a tad more than one foot in...
Bernie, don't you dare act like you don't hear me!" Mattie clasped hand over mouth. "Oh well," she giggled, "no turning back now." She removed hand from mouth. The veins in her neck puffed out as, "Bernie!!!" escaped lips.
"Be right there," Bernie answered, sighed, tentatively slinked back out nest door, like a bird from under cover after thunder storm..
"Bernie." Her palm cupped his cheek, lifted his face to hers.
His spindly legs turned limp spaghetti. "Your hand feels so good."
"Bernie," Mattie in all tenderness said, "how are you ever going to see me with your eyes closed?"
Eyes clamped shut, Bernie confessed, "I didn't look. Well maybe a little yesterday, but not today. I'm so sorry, I..."
"Shush, just shush, Hon," her hand still cupped his cheek. "Open those pretty brown eyes," Mattie cooed. The eyes of Bernie met dove eyes. "Bernie, you need coffee," Mattie chirped. Her hand departed his cheek; found his hand; did not turn loose till she had Bernie perched at garden table. "I'll fetch that coffee now. It's fresh brewed," Mattie smiled promise.
Round garden table hummingbirds flitted from honey suckle to lily, to flower, to all about; buzzed each other and Bernie alike in territorial flight to stake claim to sweet water feeder Mattie had hung out. Near kitchen door, over shoulder Mattie asked, "Cream and sugar?"
"Yes Ma'am," Bernie sighed. His eyes followed sweet Mattie curves till she disappeared into kitchen. To self he wondered, "Why is such a lovely dove even bothering with me?" Bernie bent knees, tensed legs, prepared to take flight. But as if by intervention divine, designated hummingbird landed squarely on the tip of his nose.
Bearing tray, Mattie returned to find Bernie cross eyed and frozen in place by hummingbird perched on nose. "I see you have a new friend," Mattie laughed, more a sweet laughette. She sat tray on garden table; and so cued, hummingbird accomplice flew to wisteria vine, where in lavender flowers he sat as culpable witness.
From tray Mattie sat out not two, but three cups of coffee.
"What is happening?" Paranoid Bernie brain neared critical mass.
Garden gate opened. And lo, into garden strode crow dark clad man, verily the villainous reason for Bernie Fetter's self loathing. Bernie began to shake. His nose dripped blood. Mattie rounded garden table, tilted his head back, pressed napkin to nose, hugged him to her. "Be strong Bernie. I promised Sonny before he died to do this for you. He loved you, Bernie."
As specter of dark remembrance neared; Bernie clamped eyes shut, whimpered, "No, please no, don't hurt me." And then he heard... the steps of darkness stop... felt strong male arms embrace him...
...Heard just a man, named Mike, weep with him, "I am so sorry, Bernie. I should have apologized to you years ago. Your life most certainly would have been better without this jerk harassing you every day at school."
"Every single day for years!" Bernie howled pain.
"If what if... could be what was... then we'd all what if today," Mike spoke from the heart, took seat at garden table. "For many years the pain, that I inflicted on you and others, unleashed torment upon me. How could I have been so evil? How could I hurt you like that? More than a few sleepless nights your tears, your fears became mine. Alcohol and drugs only made it harder to cope with the guilt. I could not live with myself. Death seemed the only fitting punishment. One drunken night alone in bed, I stuck a gun in my mouth. Finger on trigger, I heard so clearly the word this wicked world despises most, a simple 'No'. Whether angel or not, I know not, but I knew, that I was not alone. That morning I found myself in a church pew. I found God's grace and forgiveness and salvation through his son Jesus. But Bernie, I never forgot you, just did not know where you moved after Shackleton High School."
Mattie explained, "Before Sonny passed, he heard Mike had become Pastor Mike in another state. I promised to get you two together."
"I am so very sorry, Bernie. I pray that in your heart you might forgive me and receive peace," Pastor Mike hoped.
With napkin Mattie wiped tears from past victim's face. Bernie looked into her soft dove eyes. He turned to Pastor Mike and spoke, "So, Mikey needs mercy. Where was the mercy when Mikey boy, Mr. Super Jock, Mr. lets slam Bernie's head into the locker, make him beg on the floor with boot on face, then kick him in the groin, where was the mercy then? Where was it Mike? Maybe I should give you a taste of your own medicine? Maybe... maybe..." Bernie quieted, saw tears well in Mattie's dove eyes, saw Mike hang his head and weep. Marty stood, took step toward Mike, said, "Or maybe I should just grow up, get a grip, get over it, thank Jesus, and give a new friend a hug?"
And dove eyes smiled...
... Be no longer wingless in bird land...
...Be set free by Jesus...
...Jesus, who even from the cross, said: Father forgive them; for they know not what they do...
Luke 23:24; John 14:6; 8:31-32; 1st John 4:17
"Hi Bernie," from lily lined walkway, widow Mattie Freer waved paper.
"Why is her paper always on the walk and mine eternally in the dew?" His festering brain complained, but he said, "Good morning, Mrs. Freer." Morning ritual complete, Bernie turned back toward front door, oblivious to the fact that Mrs. Freer's early greetings had increased in occurrence over recent months. But oblivious he was not to the rising sun revealing silhouette of long legs through house coat. "Long and beautiful," Bernie thought, "unlike my bird legs."
And so went morning in-idyllic. While one preened, the other squawked. While one danced, the other plodded. While one moved on, the other ground in. Till one faithful day...
"Hi Bernie." Mattie waved paper.
"Good morning Mrs. Freer." Bernie averted eyes from rays of sun passing through house coat; it only reminded him of how ugly he perceived himself to be; and "I shouldn't," he thought, "be admiring Sonny's wife at all. Sonny Freer was the closest thing to a friend I ever had. Lord, I miss him." Bernie headed back to earth bound nest. Door knob in hand...
"Bernie, Bernie." Mattie Freer interrupted his doom of gloom trance... "Bernie, can you come over here, perchance?"
Bernie cracked open door to nest. Got a tad more than one foot in...
Bernie, don't you dare act like you don't hear me!" Mattie clasped hand over mouth. "Oh well," she giggled, "no turning back now." She removed hand from mouth. The veins in her neck puffed out as, "Bernie!!!" escaped lips.
"Be right there," Bernie answered, sighed, tentatively slinked back out nest door, like a bird from under cover after thunder storm..
"Bernie." Her palm cupped his cheek, lifted his face to hers.
His spindly legs turned limp spaghetti. "Your hand feels so good."
"Bernie," Mattie in all tenderness said, "how are you ever going to see me with your eyes closed?"
Eyes clamped shut, Bernie confessed, "I didn't look. Well maybe a little yesterday, but not today. I'm so sorry, I..."
"Shush, just shush, Hon," her hand still cupped his cheek. "Open those pretty brown eyes," Mattie cooed. The eyes of Bernie met dove eyes. "Bernie, you need coffee," Mattie chirped. Her hand departed his cheek; found his hand; did not turn loose till she had Bernie perched at garden table. "I'll fetch that coffee now. It's fresh brewed," Mattie smiled promise.
Round garden table hummingbirds flitted from honey suckle to lily, to flower, to all about; buzzed each other and Bernie alike in territorial flight to stake claim to sweet water feeder Mattie had hung out. Near kitchen door, over shoulder Mattie asked, "Cream and sugar?"
"Yes Ma'am," Bernie sighed. His eyes followed sweet Mattie curves till she disappeared into kitchen. To self he wondered, "Why is such a lovely dove even bothering with me?" Bernie bent knees, tensed legs, prepared to take flight. But as if by intervention divine, designated hummingbird landed squarely on the tip of his nose.
Bearing tray, Mattie returned to find Bernie cross eyed and frozen in place by hummingbird perched on nose. "I see you have a new friend," Mattie laughed, more a sweet laughette. She sat tray on garden table; and so cued, hummingbird accomplice flew to wisteria vine, where in lavender flowers he sat as culpable witness.
From tray Mattie sat out not two, but three cups of coffee.
"What is happening?" Paranoid Bernie brain neared critical mass.
Garden gate opened. And lo, into garden strode crow dark clad man, verily the villainous reason for Bernie Fetter's self loathing. Bernie began to shake. His nose dripped blood. Mattie rounded garden table, tilted his head back, pressed napkin to nose, hugged him to her. "Be strong Bernie. I promised Sonny before he died to do this for you. He loved you, Bernie."
As specter of dark remembrance neared; Bernie clamped eyes shut, whimpered, "No, please no, don't hurt me." And then he heard... the steps of darkness stop... felt strong male arms embrace him...
...Heard just a man, named Mike, weep with him, "I am so sorry, Bernie. I should have apologized to you years ago. Your life most certainly would have been better without this jerk harassing you every day at school."
"Every single day for years!" Bernie howled pain.
"If what if... could be what was... then we'd all what if today," Mike spoke from the heart, took seat at garden table. "For many years the pain, that I inflicted on you and others, unleashed torment upon me. How could I have been so evil? How could I hurt you like that? More than a few sleepless nights your tears, your fears became mine. Alcohol and drugs only made it harder to cope with the guilt. I could not live with myself. Death seemed the only fitting punishment. One drunken night alone in bed, I stuck a gun in my mouth. Finger on trigger, I heard so clearly the word this wicked world despises most, a simple 'No'. Whether angel or not, I know not, but I knew, that I was not alone. That morning I found myself in a church pew. I found God's grace and forgiveness and salvation through his son Jesus. But Bernie, I never forgot you, just did not know where you moved after Shackleton High School."
Mattie explained, "Before Sonny passed, he heard Mike had become Pastor Mike in another state. I promised to get you two together."
"I am so very sorry, Bernie. I pray that in your heart you might forgive me and receive peace," Pastor Mike hoped.
With napkin Mattie wiped tears from past victim's face. Bernie looked into her soft dove eyes. He turned to Pastor Mike and spoke, "So, Mikey needs mercy. Where was the mercy when Mikey boy, Mr. Super Jock, Mr. lets slam Bernie's head into the locker, make him beg on the floor with boot on face, then kick him in the groin, where was the mercy then? Where was it Mike? Maybe I should give you a taste of your own medicine? Maybe... maybe..." Bernie quieted, saw tears well in Mattie's dove eyes, saw Mike hang his head and weep. Marty stood, took step toward Mike, said, "Or maybe I should just grow up, get a grip, get over it, thank Jesus, and give a new friend a hug?"
And dove eyes smiled...
... Be no longer wingless in bird land...
...Be set free by Jesus...
...Jesus, who even from the cross, said: Father forgive them; for they know not what they do...
Luke 23:24; John 14:6; 8:31-32; 1st John 4:17
Monday, August 18, 2014
CAT ON A COOL TILE FLOOR
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.
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
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.
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
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
"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 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
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
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
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
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
"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.
"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
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
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
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
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 football teammates Les and Mike.
Amy slid under George's arm, her left arm round his waste in back, her right hand resting low on his abs. "What cha doing, boys?" Amy cooed.
"Temptation beckons," Mike grinned, took a sip of lust envy 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...
"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 football teammates Les and Mike.
Amy slid under George's arm, her left arm round his waste in back, her right hand resting low on his abs. "What cha doing, boys?" Amy cooed.
"Temptation beckons," Mike grinned, took a sip of lust envy 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.
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.
Friday, March 14, 2014
TWILIGHT TO TWILIGHT
The dust of dusk, yet the yawn of dawn, the usher of transition, the consolation of change, the cusp of day, twilight passing. And so be this one such edge of morn, but rays of sun peeking over granite cliff, piercing gentle running waters mist... design of the Creator to pry open auburn eyelashes... curtains to blue eyes...
As whispered wisps of ember to ash curled from driftwood campfire, her freckled nose crinkled with joy, breathed smile to her lips. Her lithe arms rose. Her fair hands gathered long auburn locks from gnarly nape of trunk and root, pillow and bed of cypress tree; and she sighed, remembering sweet lullaby in moon light on the bank of the Amen River... Until...
...Fish breath and wet tongue violated the space of her pretty face. Faith jerked her cheek away; caught only glimpse of wet furry tail as it flipped over knotted root of cypress back into the water. "What was that?" Faith leaned forward, cradled her round tummy with one arm and hand, braced herself with the other as she leaned further to waters edge. Neath clear water no marauding critter swam. Faith looked closer. "Nothing!" She looked closer, then closer yet, face inches from water surface... Boop! Wet nose touched hers. Faith giggled. Otter chuckled, slipped back under surface, then back up... Boop! Nose to nose again.
"What are you doing here, little fellow?"
Nose to nose, otter sniffed, then tried to lick the freckles from her nose. "They are not dirt." Faith giggled for it tickled. "Oop!" Faith cradled her round tummy a tad tighter. "Time to sit up." She rubbed pregnant tummy, looked down and gathered it into her blue eyes, "Must have cramped the twins space," Faith smiled.
Otter waddled up, sat up, gently placed both paws on her tummy, looked up into Faith's face and merrily chirped. Her tummy began to move neath otter paws. Otter whistled, wiggled head side to side...
"Who is your little friend?" From the comfort of sleeping bag Pastor Tim yawned, scratched sandy mop atop his head. At the sound of his voice otter turned, disappeared again over cypress root back into the Amen River.
"Awww, he's gone," Faith looked upon the ripples of the water, evidence of things not seen.
"Well," Pastor Tim raised an eye brow, "why play with otters, when you can snuggle with husband." Tim invited, flipped back flap of sleeping sack.
Faith stood, waddled over and crawled in with her back to him. Tim covered her, gathered her close in his arms. "So, I get the back treatment!" Tim smiled, swept auburn hair from freckled nape of neck, planted kiss.
You scared him away," Faith pouted, pulled her neck away.
Tim gathered her closer, was just about to kiss her ear, but, "Well looky here, your little buddy turns out to be a girlfriend."
Otter and three pups had come to visit at the foot of sleeping bag. Momma otter slinked up on mid sack, turned head, chirped. The three pups scampered up and swarmed over momma.
Pastor Tim observed, "There has got to be a Sunday sermon in all this somewhere."
"Chirp, chip, bark and squeak..." Momma otter sang to the ears of Faith.
Faith smiled, "She is saying don't count your chicks till they hatch."
Caressing her auburn hair into place round her ear, Tim smiled too, although not quite exactly sure of what he was smiling about.
No next day Sunday morning sermon did Pastor Tim preach. Most of the church congregation was with him at the hospital, praying and waiting, waiting and praying; until...
Tim opened the door to Faith... understood not so coincidental otter coincidence on that bank of the Amen River... For Tim went to side of bed... where Faith lay... saw not twins... but saw three... count them three... in the arms of Faith... And Tim praised the LORD... from twilight to twilight to twilight... in song:
Cross on over to the other side of the Amen River by faith... into the palm of Jesus hand... into the promised land... of living water... water... water... ... ... drink His water... water... water... cool and clear water... water... water... ... ... water... ... ...
John 4:14; Philippians 4:4-7; Matthew 28:19
Endless water... water... water... ... ... Everlasting water... water... water... ... ... Forever living water... water... water... ... ... Jesus... ... ... Endless water... water... water... ... ... Everlasting water... water... water... ... ... Forever living water... water... water... ... ... Jesus... ... ... And sing and sing and sing... And sing and sing and sing... And sing and sing and sing... ... ... Jesus... Jesus... Jesus... ... ... Jesus... Jesus... Jesus... ... ... Jesus...Jesus... Jesus... ... ... Of Jesus forever sing... Of Jesus forever sing... Of Jesus forever sing... Of Jesus...
As whispered wisps of ember to ash curled from driftwood campfire, her freckled nose crinkled with joy, breathed smile to her lips. Her lithe arms rose. Her fair hands gathered long auburn locks from gnarly nape of trunk and root, pillow and bed of cypress tree; and she sighed, remembering sweet lullaby in moon light on the bank of the Amen River... Until...
...Fish breath and wet tongue violated the space of her pretty face. Faith jerked her cheek away; caught only glimpse of wet furry tail as it flipped over knotted root of cypress back into the water. "What was that?" Faith leaned forward, cradled her round tummy with one arm and hand, braced herself with the other as she leaned further to waters edge. Neath clear water no marauding critter swam. Faith looked closer. "Nothing!" She looked closer, then closer yet, face inches from water surface... Boop! Wet nose touched hers. Faith giggled. Otter chuckled, slipped back under surface, then back up... Boop! Nose to nose again.
"What are you doing here, little fellow?"
Nose to nose, otter sniffed, then tried to lick the freckles from her nose. "They are not dirt." Faith giggled for it tickled. "Oop!" Faith cradled her round tummy a tad tighter. "Time to sit up." She rubbed pregnant tummy, looked down and gathered it into her blue eyes, "Must have cramped the twins space," Faith smiled.
Otter waddled up, sat up, gently placed both paws on her tummy, looked up into Faith's face and merrily chirped. Her tummy began to move neath otter paws. Otter whistled, wiggled head side to side...
"Who is your little friend?" From the comfort of sleeping bag Pastor Tim yawned, scratched sandy mop atop his head. At the sound of his voice otter turned, disappeared again over cypress root back into the Amen River.
"Awww, he's gone," Faith looked upon the ripples of the water, evidence of things not seen.
"Well," Pastor Tim raised an eye brow, "why play with otters, when you can snuggle with husband." Tim invited, flipped back flap of sleeping sack.
Faith stood, waddled over and crawled in with her back to him. Tim covered her, gathered her close in his arms. "So, I get the back treatment!" Tim smiled, swept auburn hair from freckled nape of neck, planted kiss.
You scared him away," Faith pouted, pulled her neck away.
Tim gathered her closer, was just about to kiss her ear, but, "Well looky here, your little buddy turns out to be a girlfriend."
Otter and three pups had come to visit at the foot of sleeping bag. Momma otter slinked up on mid sack, turned head, chirped. The three pups scampered up and swarmed over momma.
Pastor Tim observed, "There has got to be a Sunday sermon in all this somewhere."
"Chirp, chip, bark and squeak..." Momma otter sang to the ears of Faith.
Faith smiled, "She is saying don't count your chicks till they hatch."
Caressing her auburn hair into place round her ear, Tim smiled too, although not quite exactly sure of what he was smiling about.
No next day Sunday morning sermon did Pastor Tim preach. Most of the church congregation was with him at the hospital, praying and waiting, waiting and praying; until...
Tim opened the door to Faith... understood not so coincidental otter coincidence on that bank of the Amen River... For Tim went to side of bed... where Faith lay... saw not twins... but saw three... count them three... in the arms of Faith... And Tim praised the LORD... from twilight to twilight to twilight... in song:
Cross on over to the other side of the Amen River by faith... into the palm of Jesus hand... into the promised land... of living water... water... water... ... ... drink His water... water... water... cool and clear water... water... water... ... ... water... ... ...
John 4:14; Philippians 4:4-7; Matthew 28:19
Endless water... water... water... ... ... Everlasting water... water... water... ... ... Forever living water... water... water... ... ... Jesus... ... ... Endless water... water... water... ... ... Everlasting water... water... water... ... ... Forever living water... water... water... ... ... Jesus... ... ... And sing and sing and sing... And sing and sing and sing... And sing and sing and sing... ... ... Jesus... Jesus... Jesus... ... ... Jesus... Jesus... Jesus... ... ... Jesus...Jesus... Jesus... ... ... Of Jesus forever sing... Of Jesus forever sing... Of Jesus forever sing... Of Jesus...
Sunday, March 2, 2014
LITTLE YELLOW BEE
Little Yellow Bee saw the wood bee
Saw the wood bee drill and saw
Saw the wood bee drill like an awl
Little Bee thought with awe
I would be a wood bee
If I could be
Big round and black
With a tool filled carpenter sack
Buzzing to and fro
Carrying pollen into the hole
A wood bee, I would be
If I could be
But I'm just a little yellow bee
Barely big enough to see
Queen Bee hear my plea
Make my wish to be
Let me be, a big wood bee
As I should be
Then said Queen Bee to Little Bee
Sweeter than honey are thee
You carry nectar to our hive
To make honey, keeping all us bees alive
So you shouldn't be, a wood bee
If you could be...
Be what God created you to be... Be a blessing... Be blessed...
Share the Word of God... Share Jesus... Share the honey...
Where did the saying "Sweeter Than Honey" come from: Psalm 119:103-105; Psalm 19:7-11
Originally written for our grandchildren in 2004.
pawpawcorner.blogpsot.com
Saw the wood bee drill and saw
Saw the wood bee drill like an awl
Little Bee thought with awe
I would be a wood bee
If I could be
Big round and black
With a tool filled carpenter sack
Buzzing to and fro
Carrying pollen into the hole
A wood bee, I would be
If I could be
But I'm just a little yellow bee
Barely big enough to see
Queen Bee hear my plea
Make my wish to be
Let me be, a big wood bee
As I should be
Then said Queen Bee to Little Bee
Sweeter than honey are thee
You carry nectar to our hive
To make honey, keeping all us bees alive
So you shouldn't be, a wood bee
If you could be...
Be what God created you to be... Be a blessing... Be blessed...
Share the Word of God... Share Jesus... Share the honey...
Where did the saying "Sweeter Than Honey" come from: Psalm 119:103-105; Psalm 19:7-11
Originally written for our grandchildren in 2004.
pawpawcorner.blogpsot.com
Monday, February 10, 2014
MOLE HOLE TO MADNESS
Ahab B. Tempest too often of his home town complained, "The best thing I can say about Scope, Texas, is everybody has got to be from somewhere. Why two roads cross this corner to nowhere is beyond me. We got no springs nor streams, no rivers nor lakes, no trees nor mountains. In fact the highest naturally occurring scenery around here is a festering mole hole hill smack dab in the middle of my garden. I hates them moles! One day you got a row of carrots; the next day you got nothing but mounds of violated dirt! I hate em'! I've poisoned, trapped, sonic repelled and even tried electrocuting them nasty critters; but mole hole horde invasion just never ends."
This errant rant twas all too familiar to neighbor Mary Webster, who tried one more time to explain "It is not a mole hole, Ahab. Moles are not your problem. Your missing vegetables problem is gophers, not moles. Gophers eat vegetation; moles eat insects, grubs and such."
"Gophers smoephers!" Ahab escalated to red faced exasperation, "Its moles! Its moles! Its moles! And they are all gonna' die!!" The mole whole to madness lit Ahab's fire, morphed his ire to unicycle peddling psycho desire.
Off to the old, old barn Ahab stomped. Mary shook head, retreated from garden to the assumed safety of her own back yard. She turned to scrutinize the return of Ahab. On one shoulder he carried a hand twist post hole digger. Laden on the other shoulder were several pipe extensions to be added as needed twixt auger and handle for depth. And strait to that mislabeled mole hole in garden Ahab went.
"Concerned moles!" Ahab spit, dropped pipe to the side, raised post hole digger over head and cursed out epitaph, "I hates moles for hate's sake!" Down harpooned auger into the heart of mole hole!
Harpoon, twist, twist, twist, retrieve and dump dirt! Harpoon, twist, twist, twist, retrieve and dump! Harpoon twist, twist, twist, retrieve and dump! An hour and a half drug by. Mary Webster had long given up and gone inside. But neither she nor any of the other town folks witnessed Ahab's obsession twist to evil possession of Ahab.
Ahab screamed, "Enough!" Cast auger down to hate stabbed ground, turned, stomped back again to old, old barn. Too soon he returned to the garden with arms heavy laden with for real dyn-o-mite! How many sticks of dynamite Ahab dropped down that mole hole, no one ever knew nor could conceive. Nor could any conceive Ahab would stand directly over that mole hole, strike a match and drop it down mole hole throat...
...Nothing happened. Off to the old, old barn Ahab ran, waving arms and ranting words that Satan himself took notes on. Back, Ahab raced slinging by handle a five gallon can of lawn mower gas in each hand. Down that packed with dynamite mole hole Ahab poured both cans. Maniacally, he giggled, "No mole left behind!" He pulled cigar from pocket... and as he lit it... so did his face light also in the crazed glee of revenge. A few last deep drags really fired her up... then did he drop tobacco ablaze... straight into that mole hole to madness...
No cosmic cross hairs were ever aimed; yet, by hand of man the crossroads of Scope, Texas vanished... Only an abyss remained... An abyss once but a mole hole mislabeled...
Why turn a mole hole into an abyss... Does not the sting of anger and revenge bite both bitten and biter... even countless innocents...
Life on earth is short enough as it is... forgive and love... as Jesus loves us...
Proverbs 10:12 KJV, "Hatred stirreth up strifes; but love covereth all sins."
Find a nearby Christian church... come on in and sit a spell... find the love of Jesus...
This errant rant twas all too familiar to neighbor Mary Webster, who tried one more time to explain "It is not a mole hole, Ahab. Moles are not your problem. Your missing vegetables problem is gophers, not moles. Gophers eat vegetation; moles eat insects, grubs and such."
"Gophers smoephers!" Ahab escalated to red faced exasperation, "Its moles! Its moles! Its moles! And they are all gonna' die!!" The mole whole to madness lit Ahab's fire, morphed his ire to unicycle peddling psycho desire.
Off to the old, old barn Ahab stomped. Mary shook head, retreated from garden to the assumed safety of her own back yard. She turned to scrutinize the return of Ahab. On one shoulder he carried a hand twist post hole digger. Laden on the other shoulder were several pipe extensions to be added as needed twixt auger and handle for depth. And strait to that mislabeled mole hole in garden Ahab went.
"Concerned moles!" Ahab spit, dropped pipe to the side, raised post hole digger over head and cursed out epitaph, "I hates moles for hate's sake!" Down harpooned auger into the heart of mole hole!
Harpoon, twist, twist, twist, retrieve and dump dirt! Harpoon, twist, twist, twist, retrieve and dump! Harpoon twist, twist, twist, retrieve and dump! An hour and a half drug by. Mary Webster had long given up and gone inside. But neither she nor any of the other town folks witnessed Ahab's obsession twist to evil possession of Ahab.
Ahab screamed, "Enough!" Cast auger down to hate stabbed ground, turned, stomped back again to old, old barn. Too soon he returned to the garden with arms heavy laden with for real dyn-o-mite! How many sticks of dynamite Ahab dropped down that mole hole, no one ever knew nor could conceive. Nor could any conceive Ahab would stand directly over that mole hole, strike a match and drop it down mole hole throat...
...Nothing happened. Off to the old, old barn Ahab ran, waving arms and ranting words that Satan himself took notes on. Back, Ahab raced slinging by handle a five gallon can of lawn mower gas in each hand. Down that packed with dynamite mole hole Ahab poured both cans. Maniacally, he giggled, "No mole left behind!" He pulled cigar from pocket... and as he lit it... so did his face light also in the crazed glee of revenge. A few last deep drags really fired her up... then did he drop tobacco ablaze... straight into that mole hole to madness...
No cosmic cross hairs were ever aimed; yet, by hand of man the crossroads of Scope, Texas vanished... Only an abyss remained... An abyss once but a mole hole mislabeled...
Why turn a mole hole into an abyss... Does not the sting of anger and revenge bite both bitten and biter... even countless innocents...
Life on earth is short enough as it is... forgive and love... as Jesus loves us...
Proverbs 10:12 KJV, "Hatred stirreth up strifes; but love covereth all sins."
Find a nearby Christian church... come on in and sit a spell... find the love of Jesus...
Friday, January 24, 2014
LOLLY GAG AND DAWDLE IDLY
More than just cousins were Miss Lolly Gag and Dawdle Idly. Best friends they were with much in common. Where one lollied the other was sure to dawdle. What they didn't lackadaisically waste, they most certainly fruitlessly dis-labored. Any time and always seemed a good time to procrastinate. And the one thing they procrastinated most about was spiritual life. After all, thought required effort, and effort to Lolly Gag and Dawdle Idly was unthinkable. And my oh my, how the time flew by... to that faithless day when one gagged, while the other idled...
And it came to pass in an opulent sky box at a certain super football game in a wildly super arena that Lolly and Dawdle had much bet on the underdog. And in the final countdown Lolly's team scored the winning touchdown, just as she half swallowed a generous chunk of Cajun chicken wing. In her windpipe it did lodge, but screaming drunken fans, including best friend Dawdle, failed to comprehend Lolly's frantic dance was with death, not celebration. Then, as Lolly gagged, as she turned first blue then dark purple, her last dance stopped. Lolly stood dreadfully still amongst the writhing revelers.
Dawdle turned to see her BFF, see her eyes cross, see the body of Lolly take a backward stiff as a board swan dive. Dawdle tried to grab her, but only succeeded in falling forward herself. And as Lolly hit the floor on her back with a horrible smack, her lungs violently compressed their oxygen depleted air. Like a bullet on a mission that chunk of spicy Cajun chicken dislodged and shot out of Lolly's mouth straight into the left eye ball of a still falling Dawdle...
At the hospital Dawdle lay in a bed. "We are not quite sure," the Nurse said, "whether your left eye will see again."
In reply, Dawdle only smiled, turned head, and with her one good eye did see in bed across the room her BFF. Dawdle reached out to hold the hand of Lolly, not realizing her one eyed depth perception would take some getting use to. Too far away lay Lolly, but even with cracked ribs she reached out to Dawdle. The Nurse smiled and pushed Dawdle's bed closer. And Lolly and Dawdle held hands...
Three Sundays later, hands reverently holding Holy Bibles in laps, Lolly and Dawdle sat in church. They listened to the Pastor speak of the disciples fishing all night long with nets on the Sea of Galilee and catching nothing; until the resurrected Christ Jesus appeared on the shore and called out to them as recorded in John 21:6 KJ, "And he said unto them, Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find. They cast therefore, and now they were not able to draw it for the multitude of fishes"
And Lolly and Dawdle did the unthinkable: put forth effort and thought as the Pastor taught: "As Jesus spoke to the disciples from shore, so does he speak to us today from heaven. Some sitting in this very church today have led a life that is but a dark night in which over and over again they have cast their net on the wrong side of the boat. The wrong side of the boat, the wrong side of life, where only emptiness is caught. Perhaps some sitting here have even been recently reminded of how short life is. That no one is guaranteed another breath, not even another beat of the heart. Today, to you, do you hear Jesus calling, calling: 'Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find.' Find repentance and forgiveness; find redemption and salvation; find abundant life, even life eternal; and find love and find peace: all found in Jesus."
And that very morning Lolly and Dawdle found their NBFF (New Best Friend Forever)... JESUS...
Jesus speaks as recorded in John 15:12-13 KJ, "12)This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you. 13)Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."
Postscripts for the studious: Mark 9:47; Hebrews 12:6; Acts 9: 1-20...
Allegory & Scripture
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
And it came to pass in an opulent sky box at a certain super football game in a wildly super arena that Lolly and Dawdle had much bet on the underdog. And in the final countdown Lolly's team scored the winning touchdown, just as she half swallowed a generous chunk of Cajun chicken wing. In her windpipe it did lodge, but screaming drunken fans, including best friend Dawdle, failed to comprehend Lolly's frantic dance was with death, not celebration. Then, as Lolly gagged, as she turned first blue then dark purple, her last dance stopped. Lolly stood dreadfully still amongst the writhing revelers.
Dawdle turned to see her BFF, see her eyes cross, see the body of Lolly take a backward stiff as a board swan dive. Dawdle tried to grab her, but only succeeded in falling forward herself. And as Lolly hit the floor on her back with a horrible smack, her lungs violently compressed their oxygen depleted air. Like a bullet on a mission that chunk of spicy Cajun chicken dislodged and shot out of Lolly's mouth straight into the left eye ball of a still falling Dawdle...
At the hospital Dawdle lay in a bed. "We are not quite sure," the Nurse said, "whether your left eye will see again."
In reply, Dawdle only smiled, turned head, and with her one good eye did see in bed across the room her BFF. Dawdle reached out to hold the hand of Lolly, not realizing her one eyed depth perception would take some getting use to. Too far away lay Lolly, but even with cracked ribs she reached out to Dawdle. The Nurse smiled and pushed Dawdle's bed closer. And Lolly and Dawdle held hands...
Three Sundays later, hands reverently holding Holy Bibles in laps, Lolly and Dawdle sat in church. They listened to the Pastor speak of the disciples fishing all night long with nets on the Sea of Galilee and catching nothing; until the resurrected Christ Jesus appeared on the shore and called out to them as recorded in John 21:6 KJ, "And he said unto them, Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find. They cast therefore, and now they were not able to draw it for the multitude of fishes"
And Lolly and Dawdle did the unthinkable: put forth effort and thought as the Pastor taught: "As Jesus spoke to the disciples from shore, so does he speak to us today from heaven. Some sitting in this very church today have led a life that is but a dark night in which over and over again they have cast their net on the wrong side of the boat. The wrong side of the boat, the wrong side of life, where only emptiness is caught. Perhaps some sitting here have even been recently reminded of how short life is. That no one is guaranteed another breath, not even another beat of the heart. Today, to you, do you hear Jesus calling, calling: 'Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find.' Find repentance and forgiveness; find redemption and salvation; find abundant life, even life eternal; and find love and find peace: all found in Jesus."
And that very morning Lolly and Dawdle found their NBFF (New Best Friend Forever)... JESUS...
Jesus speaks as recorded in John 15:12-13 KJ, "12)This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you. 13)Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."
Postscripts for the studious: Mark 9:47; Hebrews 12:6; Acts 9: 1-20...
Allegory & Scripture
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
Thursday, January 9, 2014
WAKE UP DREAMING
The apple is nice, but in this world of spice is sliced caramelized in butter and brown sugar, dusted with nutmeg and cinnamon, and baked till golden atop dough of kolache. So does the mouth water for the knowledge of oven warm forbidden apple kolache, beside tall cool glass of sweet cream milk. So swam waking, lip smacking dream; so was the life stream of one Juan John Paulo, beloved son of Manuel Janacek Paulo and Ana Chen Paulo.
"Wake now, my little Juan John a-litto," Ana yanked the covers away. "School day," Ana sang, "Juan John a-litto, he is one Juan John a-litto... Juan John a-littooooo... Juan John a-littooo..."
Juan John moaned, grabbed too late at soft covers gone. "Mom! I am eighteen years old! Stop treating me like a kid! You are going to drive the other two-thirds of me into being Chinese!"
Oh, my poor Juan John Janacek Chen Paulo... how did you know?" The eyes of Ana flashed.
The aroma of sauteed cabbage assaulted the nostrils of Juan John, "Noooo! Not egg rolls for breakfast again!"
On the way to school Juan John mulled cultural diversification, "Who am I? My DNA got tossed into a blender and pureed."
At Learning Tree High School, observing the multitude of other teens in the hallway, Juan John avoided not the next thought perplexing, "Where have all the white people gone? For that matter where are the black people? Brown or yellow people, where are they? Who is anybody anymore?"
Finger through belt loop tugged Juan John round, eye to eye with amber eyed girlfriend. "Juan John," Missy began, "troubled brow betrays that the subject of our little talk last night, your cultural meltdown, continues."
"Egg rolls!" Juan John complained.
"What?" Missy drew a perplexed look of her own.
"Egg rolls for breakfast again, and I don't mean the homemade kind either. Frozen! Nuked! Egg rolls! For breakfast!" Juan John spat.
"First of all..." Missy started...
"Yeah, I know how many folks round the world would just be grateful for something warm to eat." Juan John rolled eyes.
"You did't?" You did! You rolled your eyes at me!" Missy feigned anger, giggled, took his chin in the palm of her hand, returned his eyes to hers. "Rolled those beautiful eyes at me, one sapphire blue, one ruby green, so beautiful. That's it! Your eyes, people still tease you about your eyes??"
"Not so much tease or make fun of, but stare. They try not to look, but end up starring, like I'm some kind a mutated freak. Blue, green, brown, aqua maroon, who cares, as long as both eyes are the same color. I just want to be like everybody else. Or no I don't, cause everybody else is a mutt too. Am I confused or what?" Juan John wondered, repeated, "Or what?"
"Or," Missy caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Or," she pulled his ear to her lips. "Or," she whispered, "they might just admire you, and your beautiful eyes, like I do..." Missy reflected, hinted soft threat, "Although, they better not."
Missy paused, made the most of Juan John's undivided attention. "My precious Juan John Paulo, even with beautiful eyes of different colors through which to see, how do you not see how blessed you are? You get to celebrate throughout the year many cultures, that our Heavenly Father has blessed you with. Just thank Him in Jesus name."
No matter the color of the eyes... how seen what is seen... is key to color...
See in love one another... See in love our Creator above... Who loves His flowers... His morning and sunset skies... His people of rainbow colors... (Genesis 1:26)
John 3:16 KJ, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."
Allegory & Scripture
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
"Wake now, my little Juan John a-litto," Ana yanked the covers away. "School day," Ana sang, "Juan John a-litto, he is one Juan John a-litto... Juan John a-littooooo... Juan John a-littooo..."
Juan John moaned, grabbed too late at soft covers gone. "Mom! I am eighteen years old! Stop treating me like a kid! You are going to drive the other two-thirds of me into being Chinese!"
Oh, my poor Juan John Janacek Chen Paulo... how did you know?" The eyes of Ana flashed.
The aroma of sauteed cabbage assaulted the nostrils of Juan John, "Noooo! Not egg rolls for breakfast again!"
On the way to school Juan John mulled cultural diversification, "Who am I? My DNA got tossed into a blender and pureed."
At Learning Tree High School, observing the multitude of other teens in the hallway, Juan John avoided not the next thought perplexing, "Where have all the white people gone? For that matter where are the black people? Brown or yellow people, where are they? Who is anybody anymore?"
Finger through belt loop tugged Juan John round, eye to eye with amber eyed girlfriend. "Juan John," Missy began, "troubled brow betrays that the subject of our little talk last night, your cultural meltdown, continues."
"Egg rolls!" Juan John complained.
"What?" Missy drew a perplexed look of her own.
"Egg rolls for breakfast again, and I don't mean the homemade kind either. Frozen! Nuked! Egg rolls! For breakfast!" Juan John spat.
"First of all..." Missy started...
"Yeah, I know how many folks round the world would just be grateful for something warm to eat." Juan John rolled eyes.
"You did't?" You did! You rolled your eyes at me!" Missy feigned anger, giggled, took his chin in the palm of her hand, returned his eyes to hers. "Rolled those beautiful eyes at me, one sapphire blue, one ruby green, so beautiful. That's it! Your eyes, people still tease you about your eyes??"
"Not so much tease or make fun of, but stare. They try not to look, but end up starring, like I'm some kind a mutated freak. Blue, green, brown, aqua maroon, who cares, as long as both eyes are the same color. I just want to be like everybody else. Or no I don't, cause everybody else is a mutt too. Am I confused or what?" Juan John wondered, repeated, "Or what?"
"Or," Missy caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Or," she pulled his ear to her lips. "Or," she whispered, "they might just admire you, and your beautiful eyes, like I do..." Missy reflected, hinted soft threat, "Although, they better not."
Missy paused, made the most of Juan John's undivided attention. "My precious Juan John Paulo, even with beautiful eyes of different colors through which to see, how do you not see how blessed you are? You get to celebrate throughout the year many cultures, that our Heavenly Father has blessed you with. Just thank Him in Jesus name."
No matter the color of the eyes... how seen what is seen... is key to color...
See in love one another... See in love our Creator above... Who loves His flowers... His morning and sunset skies... His people of rainbow colors... (Genesis 1:26)
John 3:16 KJ, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."
Allegory & Scripture
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
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