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
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
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
Thursday, December 19, 2013
THE HAZE
In his gut Moss knew that in the nowhere before him lay somewhere in the haze... Binoculars to eyes penetrated it not. Moss smiled. Perhaps this day held danger enough to sate thrill, even peril enough to stab away the boredom of a mountain climber on flat land. "Haze in the desert," Moss stoked self, "means one of two, dust storm or mountain. Either way, I win."
Open truck tailgate pointed way to the haze. Off road bike cranked, spit fire, roared off truck bed, screamed through air; tires ripped desert sand. Dark rider twisted throttle till it twisted no more. And Moss jeered the unforgiving desert, spat at love lost, railed to heaven, "I need nothing nor nobody. All I need is me!"
Into the desert sand dark rider sped past cactus, past tumbleweed, past screech owl and rattler, but not past dark past. Past that stalked him, caught him twixt talons that pierced deeper into his ribs with every jarring of rock neath the tires of the motorized beast he rode. And the beast propelled Moss onward, pressed him toward date with fate... in the haze...
On and on Moss rode. "What lies waiting in the haze?" On he rode. "Will I be able to see once in?" On he rode. But the closer Moss got, the farther away the haze fled. "Is it real? Oasis or mirage? Dream or nightmare? Friend or foe?" The mind of Moss wandered, till time crushed in, till numbness crept from finger tips, through hands, up arms, into shoulders, up spine till paralyzing unsound mind. And on and on Moss rode atop dirge wailing motor of beast...
"Phrrreeeet, phom phom phom... phom!" The beast sputtered and died.
Moss woke. Woke to silence, to lack of movement, to realization, "Out of gas..." Moss dismounted, kicked kick stand down, before noticing, "I can't see a thing." And the dawn of the haze smote him, "I'm in!" I'm in the haze!" Moss let go of handle bar, strode deeper into the haze... THUD! "Owww!" Unforward progress ended at second step, ended hard, recoiled Moss back half a step. "What the..." He reached out, felt rock, "Its a cliff. If I hadn't run out of gas, I'd be dead."
Moss smiled, laughed, "Like I care." In the haze he reached back, felt handlebars, slid hands to saddle bags, took out climbing gear, and to and up the cliff he climbed into the haze... "Challenging, not being able to see," Moss grunted out, "but nothing and nobody is going to stop me."
Moss knew not how the hours flew, till his left hand reached up and in... to empty haze. "The peak!" He climbed up and over the edge, rolled over on his back. No rock poked him. With right hand he felt out and around. Moss contemplated out loud, "Smooth flat rock, too smooth, not the natural top of a cliff, more like..." Then he realized, "On the way up! The stones were uniform, equally spaced. I didn't catch on because they were so massive. I'm on top of a building, or a wall, a bulwark? Where am I? What is this? If only I could see through the haze."
Moss lay there wondering, thinking, concluding, "If its a wall, the other edge of it can't be far." He rolled over on stomach, inched forward into the haze for what he figured to be about twelve yards, till his fingers grasped it, "The other edge! The other side!"
As rapidly as an experienced but unable to see climber is capable, Moss was a tad quicker at rigging up the repelling gear. The thirst for perilous discovery goaded Moss over the edge of the wall.
Down... blindly down... further... further... further... until... end of repelling rope. "Stinking haze! I got no idea how far down the bottom is. If there is a bottom?" Literally at the end of his rope, Moss murmured, "I'm too tired to climb back up." He sighed, "So, time for a nap." In two shakes Moss set up the netting for a nap. And nap one exhausted Moss did, hanging there... in the net... at the end of his rope... in the haze...
How long was he out? Moss had no idea, before the voices woke him, especially one sweet voice... beckoning... enticing... inviting... luring...
"Moss, sweet Moss, awaken... come to me... come to me..." soft coo coaxed...
Moss half woke; longed to kiss sweet siren lips; reached out in the dream; and forgetting where suspended, in quest for siren lips leaned forward out of the netting, and fell... fell... fell... as echoed his last scream of life...
More than one glass of iced tea and plate of barbecue with potato salad went flying. All eyes jerked attention to the screamer, one confused and red faced Moss, flayed out on rear neath swinging back yard netting of hammock... and beneath the hands on hips of Mrs. Hazel Moss...
"Just who were you puckering up those unfaithful lips for, Mossy boy?" Queried Mrs. Hazel Moss. The interrogation had just begun... for at the end of the rope of life the haze burns away and all face the judgment...
The steps of all who walk in self alone keep not in step with the walk of the way. Why seek the haze of this world, which leads to fall; when tis better to seek and to see clearly in the light of Jesus love, which completes us...
John 8:12 KJ, "Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life."
Jeremiah 10:23 KJ, "O LORD, I know that the way of man is not within himself: it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps."
Proverbs 3:5 KJ, "Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; lean not unto thy own understanding."
...We all need Jesus...
Allegory & Scripture
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
Open truck tailgate pointed way to the haze. Off road bike cranked, spit fire, roared off truck bed, screamed through air; tires ripped desert sand. Dark rider twisted throttle till it twisted no more. And Moss jeered the unforgiving desert, spat at love lost, railed to heaven, "I need nothing nor nobody. All I need is me!"
Into the desert sand dark rider sped past cactus, past tumbleweed, past screech owl and rattler, but not past dark past. Past that stalked him, caught him twixt talons that pierced deeper into his ribs with every jarring of rock neath the tires of the motorized beast he rode. And the beast propelled Moss onward, pressed him toward date with fate... in the haze...
On and on Moss rode. "What lies waiting in the haze?" On he rode. "Will I be able to see once in?" On he rode. But the closer Moss got, the farther away the haze fled. "Is it real? Oasis or mirage? Dream or nightmare? Friend or foe?" The mind of Moss wandered, till time crushed in, till numbness crept from finger tips, through hands, up arms, into shoulders, up spine till paralyzing unsound mind. And on and on Moss rode atop dirge wailing motor of beast...
"Phrrreeeet, phom phom phom... phom!" The beast sputtered and died.
Moss woke. Woke to silence, to lack of movement, to realization, "Out of gas..." Moss dismounted, kicked kick stand down, before noticing, "I can't see a thing." And the dawn of the haze smote him, "I'm in!" I'm in the haze!" Moss let go of handle bar, strode deeper into the haze... THUD! "Owww!" Unforward progress ended at second step, ended hard, recoiled Moss back half a step. "What the..." He reached out, felt rock, "Its a cliff. If I hadn't run out of gas, I'd be dead."
Moss smiled, laughed, "Like I care." In the haze he reached back, felt handlebars, slid hands to saddle bags, took out climbing gear, and to and up the cliff he climbed into the haze... "Challenging, not being able to see," Moss grunted out, "but nothing and nobody is going to stop me."
Moss knew not how the hours flew, till his left hand reached up and in... to empty haze. "The peak!" He climbed up and over the edge, rolled over on his back. No rock poked him. With right hand he felt out and around. Moss contemplated out loud, "Smooth flat rock, too smooth, not the natural top of a cliff, more like..." Then he realized, "On the way up! The stones were uniform, equally spaced. I didn't catch on because they were so massive. I'm on top of a building, or a wall, a bulwark? Where am I? What is this? If only I could see through the haze."
Moss lay there wondering, thinking, concluding, "If its a wall, the other edge of it can't be far." He rolled over on stomach, inched forward into the haze for what he figured to be about twelve yards, till his fingers grasped it, "The other edge! The other side!"
As rapidly as an experienced but unable to see climber is capable, Moss was a tad quicker at rigging up the repelling gear. The thirst for perilous discovery goaded Moss over the edge of the wall.
Down... blindly down... further... further... further... until... end of repelling rope. "Stinking haze! I got no idea how far down the bottom is. If there is a bottom?" Literally at the end of his rope, Moss murmured, "I'm too tired to climb back up." He sighed, "So, time for a nap." In two shakes Moss set up the netting for a nap. And nap one exhausted Moss did, hanging there... in the net... at the end of his rope... in the haze...
How long was he out? Moss had no idea, before the voices woke him, especially one sweet voice... beckoning... enticing... inviting... luring...
"Moss, sweet Moss, awaken... come to me... come to me..." soft coo coaxed...
Moss half woke; longed to kiss sweet siren lips; reached out in the dream; and forgetting where suspended, in quest for siren lips leaned forward out of the netting, and fell... fell... fell... as echoed his last scream of life...
More than one glass of iced tea and plate of barbecue with potato salad went flying. All eyes jerked attention to the screamer, one confused and red faced Moss, flayed out on rear neath swinging back yard netting of hammock... and beneath the hands on hips of Mrs. Hazel Moss...
"Just who were you puckering up those unfaithful lips for, Mossy boy?" Queried Mrs. Hazel Moss. The interrogation had just begun... for at the end of the rope of life the haze burns away and all face the judgment...
The steps of all who walk in self alone keep not in step with the walk of the way. Why seek the haze of this world, which leads to fall; when tis better to seek and to see clearly in the light of Jesus love, which completes us...
John 8:12 KJ, "Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life."
Jeremiah 10:23 KJ, "O LORD, I know that the way of man is not within himself: it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps."
Proverbs 3:5 KJ, "Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; lean not unto thy own understanding."
...We all need Jesus...
Allegory & Scripture
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
BREAD OF LIFE
Nose awakening homemade bread! What a comfort! So wafted away the Saturdays of my youth in the little town of Blessing, Texas. Saturday, the day grandson crock churned sweet cream to butter. Saturday, the day Grandma Smith bake bread. Bake bread in the oven of a cast iron wood burning stove, then set it to cool upon old oaken kitchen table. What comfort, that fragrant fresh baked homemade bread! Grandma love baked in every loaf. Comfort food indeed!
More than a few years earlier in a land faraway, lay the little town of Bethlehem. A humble little town amid hills of sheep and fields of grain. A little town where grain twas ground; where bread twas bake. Bethlehem, the little town whose very name means House of Bread.
Of celestial comfort, the babe born in Bethlehem, born in a stable, wrapped in swaddling cloths, laid in a manger, a feed trough where livestock ate hay and grain. Christ Jesus, the Wonder of Wonders, our Redeemer, our Savior, the Bread of Life laid in a manger. Where had lain grain now lay bread. Humble bread in a humble manger that all the humble of heart, who eat thereof, inherit a seat at the wedding banquet of Jesus in Heaven. The very love and grace of God the Father brought forth to earth in a lowly, yet precious manger, that sheep and donkeys and goats and maybe even camels had eaten grain from. The manger now overflowing with the pure Bread of life, Emmanuel, God with us. The manger, where all that eat thereof, eat of GOD. (Luke Chapters 1 & 2)
Jesus speaks in John 6:33,47,48,51 KJ, "The bread of God is he which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world. 47)Verily, verily I say unto you, He that believeth on me hath everlasting life. 48)I am that bread of life. 51)I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live forever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world."
So much for such a humble little manger to hold... that grace of God the Father, His very Son brought forth to earth as holy bread in a manger; that folks like sheep (the helpless), and folks like donkeys (the stubborn), and folks like goats (the ornery), and maybe even folks like camels (spitty complainers): might repent and eat of the Bread of life."
God loves you
Eat of the Bread of Life
Bread of the spirit
...Jesus...
Comfort Food Indeed
More than a few years earlier in a land faraway, lay the little town of Bethlehem. A humble little town amid hills of sheep and fields of grain. A little town where grain twas ground; where bread twas bake. Bethlehem, the little town whose very name means House of Bread.
Of celestial comfort, the babe born in Bethlehem, born in a stable, wrapped in swaddling cloths, laid in a manger, a feed trough where livestock ate hay and grain. Christ Jesus, the Wonder of Wonders, our Redeemer, our Savior, the Bread of Life laid in a manger. Where had lain grain now lay bread. Humble bread in a humble manger that all the humble of heart, who eat thereof, inherit a seat at the wedding banquet of Jesus in Heaven. The very love and grace of God the Father brought forth to earth in a lowly, yet precious manger, that sheep and donkeys and goats and maybe even camels had eaten grain from. The manger now overflowing with the pure Bread of life, Emmanuel, God with us. The manger, where all that eat thereof, eat of GOD. (Luke Chapters 1 & 2)
Jesus speaks in John 6:33,47,48,51 KJ, "The bread of God is he which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world. 47)Verily, verily I say unto you, He that believeth on me hath everlasting life. 48)I am that bread of life. 51)I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live forever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world."
So much for such a humble little manger to hold... that grace of God the Father, His very Son brought forth to earth as holy bread in a manger; that folks like sheep (the helpless), and folks like donkeys (the stubborn), and folks like goats (the ornery), and maybe even folks like camels (spitty complainers): might repent and eat of the Bread of life."
God loves you
Eat of the Bread of Life
Bread of the spirit
...Jesus...
Comfort Food Indeed
Thursday, December 5, 2013
PILLOW TALK
"My arms, I can't feel my arms," the thought tore across his mind. Panic was not quite there yet, but he was working on it, "Why can't I move?" With every last ounce of willpower he concentrated to move right arm. "Nothing! What is happening to me?" He could hear Jenny humming one of those new Christian songs round the bed as she dressed. He tried to call out to her, but his lips, his jaw, his throat were frozen. He teetered on edge, "Am I dead? I can't be dead. I hear Jenny." He struggled to open eyes... but realized, "They are already open! I'm blind... I'm blind... I can't breath!!"
"Wake up, goof head," Jenny's voice pierced fear. "George, you fell asleep with that pillow over your head... AGAIN!" Jenny pulled the pillow off his face. She shook him by arm and shoulder, "George, wake up..."
"Angel?" George whined, "Where am I?"
"This ain't heaven, George," Jenny chuckled, "but it is Sunday, so get your rear end up."
Now George did not particularly like going to church, but this particular day, church sounded like a pretty good idea. "I'm sure glad, I'm not dead," George said, rolled out of bed, fell hard face down on the floor. "Ouch!"
"A bit overly dramatic, as usual," Jenny commented, while applying makeup from her perch in front of bureau mirror, "Just get ready, dear."
Heavenly sunlight shined through the stained glass windows of the church that glorious day. George and Jenny sat three rows from the front in mid pew. And as the planned coincidence of heaven instructed, Pastor Mark approached the podium carrying visual aide. He held the pillow up for all to see, as he introduced sermon topic, "No amount of pillows over your head will hide you from the world." He paused, put the pillow over his eyes, continued, "But a pillow over the head will hide the world from you, so that it can sneak up... right behind you... and GET-CHA!" Pastor Mark tossed the pillow into the congregation.
To George that pillow seemed to float toward him like slow motion on a mission. George fought off attacking pillow more than just a tad too effeminately almost hyperventilating in the process, much to the good natured amusement of folks in pews all about. Jenny yanked renegade pillow off hubby, turned red, poked elbow into his ribs and mumbled under breath, "Get a grip, George!"
Pastor Mark continued, "So, what should we do with the pillow? How about putting that pillow under your weary head to give it rest, and to see... see near 4,000 years ago... see Jacob, the son of Isaac and the grandson of Abraham, the father of God's chosen children... see Jacob in journey passing. Genesis 28:10-19 paraphrased: In journey passing from Beersheba toward Haran, Jacob stopped for the night and used a stone for his pillow. And Jacob dreamed and did see a ladder, a stairway set up on earth and reaching heaven with angels of God ascending and descending upon it. And when he arose in the early morning, Jacob realized that this stairway is also the gate, the very door to heaven. Jacob therefore raised up that stone pillow as a pillar, and anointed that pillar with oil, and named the place where it stood Bethel, meaning House of God."
Pastor Mark paused, let it all settle in, or as in George's case unsettle in.
"Pillow to Pillar!" Pastor Mark continued, "Stone pillow risen as anointed stone pillar! Children I ask you: Who is our faith? Who is the solid stone pillar, the cornerstone of the House of God?"
"Jesus," the children in the congregation spoke forth.
"All who are children of God, I ask you: Who is the Rock of our Salvation?" Pastor Mark urged.
"Jesus!" The audience spoke forth, some shouted.
"Children of God, I ask you: Who is the ladder... Who is the very stairway between earth and heaven... Who is the gate, the very door, to go through, and to enter in, with the Living God, Our Father in heaven...
"J-E-S-U-S !!!" The congregation roared, rose to feet and praised the Son of God.
After a time the congregation hushed, sat, eager to hear. Pastor Mark clung to the podium, barely able to stand. "Jesus is the stairway and the doorway between earth and heaven that Jacob saw in a dream, as recorded in Genesis Chapter 11. But keep in mind also that in dream passing, Jacob received the blessing of faith, and in that new morning light, raised his stone 'pillow' of rest in memorial as the pillar of Bethel, the House of God.
Pastor Mark paused, began, "2000 years later, consider Jesus, who after having taught by the sea shore most of the day, Jesus saying to his disciples about the sea before them, 'Let us pass to the other side.' And in passing, behold on a 'pillow' in the stern of the ship, Jesus rested asleep, while arose a great storm of wind and waves that beat into the ship till near sinking. And fearing for their very lives, the disciples awaken Jesus from his 'pillow'... And Jesus, the very Stairway to heaven, the Rock of our Salvation, the Pillar of God's house, Jesus 'arises' and rebukes the evil winds and perverse waves of tempest tossed sea with these words: "Peace be still." And in the great calm, the great stillness, Jesus asks his disciples, actually asks us all: 'Why are you so fearful? How do you have so little faith?' And the awed disciples wonder, 'What manner of man is this that even the wind and the waves obey him?' "
After a moment, Pastor Mark reflected, "So, dear children of God, even though we live in the tempest tossed perverse sea of this world, why be fearful, why hide your head beneath a pillow, when faith in Christ Jesus makes possible even the soft bellows of heaven to be our pillows..."
With Jesus in her heart, Jenny hugged the arm of her husband and lay her head upon his shoulder. And George breathed easy... blinded by fear... never more... For George had passed to the other side... with Jesus...
Genesis 28:10-19; John 1:47-51; Mark 4:35-41: (Genesis 28:12 with John 1:51)
Postscript:
Of all the postscripts you will ever read, please take time to read and be blessed by one of God's 'planned coincidences' in the Bible: From the first book of the Old Testament compare Genesis 28:11 with Matthew 11:28 in the first book of the New Testament... and rest peacefully on the pillow of your faith...
Allegory & Scripture
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
"Wake up, goof head," Jenny's voice pierced fear. "George, you fell asleep with that pillow over your head... AGAIN!" Jenny pulled the pillow off his face. She shook him by arm and shoulder, "George, wake up..."
"Angel?" George whined, "Where am I?"
"This ain't heaven, George," Jenny chuckled, "but it is Sunday, so get your rear end up."
Now George did not particularly like going to church, but this particular day, church sounded like a pretty good idea. "I'm sure glad, I'm not dead," George said, rolled out of bed, fell hard face down on the floor. "Ouch!"
"A bit overly dramatic, as usual," Jenny commented, while applying makeup from her perch in front of bureau mirror, "Just get ready, dear."
Heavenly sunlight shined through the stained glass windows of the church that glorious day. George and Jenny sat three rows from the front in mid pew. And as the planned coincidence of heaven instructed, Pastor Mark approached the podium carrying visual aide. He held the pillow up for all to see, as he introduced sermon topic, "No amount of pillows over your head will hide you from the world." He paused, put the pillow over his eyes, continued, "But a pillow over the head will hide the world from you, so that it can sneak up... right behind you... and GET-CHA!" Pastor Mark tossed the pillow into the congregation.
To George that pillow seemed to float toward him like slow motion on a mission. George fought off attacking pillow more than just a tad too effeminately almost hyperventilating in the process, much to the good natured amusement of folks in pews all about. Jenny yanked renegade pillow off hubby, turned red, poked elbow into his ribs and mumbled under breath, "Get a grip, George!"
Pastor Mark continued, "So, what should we do with the pillow? How about putting that pillow under your weary head to give it rest, and to see... see near 4,000 years ago... see Jacob, the son of Isaac and the grandson of Abraham, the father of God's chosen children... see Jacob in journey passing. Genesis 28:10-19 paraphrased: In journey passing from Beersheba toward Haran, Jacob stopped for the night and used a stone for his pillow. And Jacob dreamed and did see a ladder, a stairway set up on earth and reaching heaven with angels of God ascending and descending upon it. And when he arose in the early morning, Jacob realized that this stairway is also the gate, the very door to heaven. Jacob therefore raised up that stone pillow as a pillar, and anointed that pillar with oil, and named the place where it stood Bethel, meaning House of God."
Pastor Mark paused, let it all settle in, or as in George's case unsettle in.
"Pillow to Pillar!" Pastor Mark continued, "Stone pillow risen as anointed stone pillar! Children I ask you: Who is our faith? Who is the solid stone pillar, the cornerstone of the House of God?"
"Jesus," the children in the congregation spoke forth.
"All who are children of God, I ask you: Who is the Rock of our Salvation?" Pastor Mark urged.
"Jesus!" The audience spoke forth, some shouted.
"Children of God, I ask you: Who is the ladder... Who is the very stairway between earth and heaven... Who is the gate, the very door, to go through, and to enter in, with the Living God, Our Father in heaven...
"J-E-S-U-S !!!" The congregation roared, rose to feet and praised the Son of God.
After a time the congregation hushed, sat, eager to hear. Pastor Mark clung to the podium, barely able to stand. "Jesus is the stairway and the doorway between earth and heaven that Jacob saw in a dream, as recorded in Genesis Chapter 11. But keep in mind also that in dream passing, Jacob received the blessing of faith, and in that new morning light, raised his stone 'pillow' of rest in memorial as the pillar of Bethel, the House of God.
Pastor Mark paused, began, "2000 years later, consider Jesus, who after having taught by the sea shore most of the day, Jesus saying to his disciples about the sea before them, 'Let us pass to the other side.' And in passing, behold on a 'pillow' in the stern of the ship, Jesus rested asleep, while arose a great storm of wind and waves that beat into the ship till near sinking. And fearing for their very lives, the disciples awaken Jesus from his 'pillow'... And Jesus, the very Stairway to heaven, the Rock of our Salvation, the Pillar of God's house, Jesus 'arises' and rebukes the evil winds and perverse waves of tempest tossed sea with these words: "Peace be still." And in the great calm, the great stillness, Jesus asks his disciples, actually asks us all: 'Why are you so fearful? How do you have so little faith?' And the awed disciples wonder, 'What manner of man is this that even the wind and the waves obey him?' "
After a moment, Pastor Mark reflected, "So, dear children of God, even though we live in the tempest tossed perverse sea of this world, why be fearful, why hide your head beneath a pillow, when faith in Christ Jesus makes possible even the soft bellows of heaven to be our pillows..."
With Jesus in her heart, Jenny hugged the arm of her husband and lay her head upon his shoulder. And George breathed easy... blinded by fear... never more... For George had passed to the other side... with Jesus...
Genesis 28:10-19; John 1:47-51; Mark 4:35-41: (Genesis 28:12 with John 1:51)
Postscript:
Of all the postscripts you will ever read, please take time to read and be blessed by one of God's 'planned coincidences' in the Bible: From the first book of the Old Testament compare Genesis 28:11 with Matthew 11:28 in the first book of the New Testament... and rest peacefully on the pillow of your faith...
Allegory & Scripture
pawpawcorner.blogspot.com
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