"This sounds easy," Kerrie Sue encouraged her cooking challenged self, while reading cookbook. "I knew I bought that spaghetti squash yesterday for some reason." From toes to nose she vibrated newlywed enthusiasm.
As in the baking plan, Kerrie Sue set forth with gourd on baking pan, but to open the oven door she let go with one hand. The hard as a rock spaghetti squash promptly rolled off and, "Ouch, ouch, owwee," squashed her big toe.
After the dance of the newly lame and in pain, Kerrie braced herself against counter top and scanned the kitchen floor for gourd escapee. She spied it lurking under table in kitchen nook. "You filthy stinking psycho gourd! I'm going to kick..." she caught herself, "I will not cuss... I will not cuss," Kerrie swore, as she hobbled on left heel with throbbing toe pointing the way. At table she squatted, rolled psycho squash toward her, gathered it in arms, stood... smashed head under table, "No cussing, no cussing!" All the way back to the oven that phrase took on new meaning.
"This time I put the baking pan in the oven first." Kerrie then hoisted hefty gourd into oven. "An hour at 375 degrees might just adjust the attitude of Mr. Psycho Gourd." She closed oven door, growled, "Burn Baby Burn!"
Approximately 37.5 minutes later on the other side of kitchen island, Kerrie reclined in family room chair, left foot propped up on ottoman, big toe draped in frozen black eyed pea package. The toe had almost calmed down, when she said to self, "For some reason I feel like I'm forgetting something. Didn't the recipe say to be sure to cut the gourd in half or poke holes in it before baking... oh no."
Kaaaaa-blooey!! Psycho gourd explosion blew open oven door, scattering debris and knocking bottle of wine from kitchen island to hard tile floor. It was a special bottle of wine that Kerrie had bought to celebrate their first home cooked meal together. And so, there poor Kerrie Sue sat, a tad too quietly, as left eyelid drooped to half mast and face birthed tic of spasm.
Two hours twenty-three minutes later of cleaning-up gourd parts and wine and a quick trip to Local Yokels Market to purchase yet another potential bomb, one determined new wife tried it again. This time she did not forget, "Poke holes," Kerrie said through clinched teeth. Her face spasmed as she raised the blade, its steel flashing reflection in the half mast eye. "Die... Die... You stupid..." Kerrie plunged the knife at a way too hard rind of gourd. The blade deflected. Her grip slipped. Her hand slid down upon sharp blade edge... "Ouch, ouch, owwweeeeee!"
"No cussing, no cussing, no..." she chanted, but her blood shot eyes and facial tic concealed not Kerrie Sue wrath. Her towel wrapped hand now gripped ice pick, and into wayward gourd multiple holes were stabbed; each puncture punctuated with tennis serve grunt. All without cussing of course.
Thus the unholy, now holey gourd was subdued and shoved in oven. And while it baked, one persistent Kerrie Sue prepared just a few other ingredients for her first ever husband, a pleasing artichoke spinach spaghetti squash boat: 3 minced garlic cloves, 3 ounces cream cheese, a load of grated parmesan, another load of mozzarella, 3 cups chopped baby spinach, one overly full cup of canned artichoke hearts, fresh parsley, sea salt, pepper and of course a bit of extra virgin newlywed olive oil.
One and a half hours later, viola: there the beautiful Kerrie sat at table, her makeup flawless, her dark hair down low, her throbbing big toe soaking in warm magnesium salt water, her injured hand bandaged and elevated. But she sat alone, as the sun set through kitchen nook window, the food on table growing cold, matching her thoughts of worry. "Why did David not answer my calls? Is he hurt? Is he with an old girlfriend? Is he with a new woman? How did this day spiral into such an abyss? And that's it. I am complaining. I didn't cuss, but I am worrying; I didn't cuss, but I did fuss; when what I should have done from the beginning is pray to and praise Our Heavenly Father in Jesus name." And Kerrie Sue bowed her head... And Kerrie prayed... And a great calm enveloped her...
No more than twenty minutes passed. David found his precious wife with eyes closed, head still bowed. He kissed her temple through coconut soft and scented hair. He took her bandaged hand in his, whispered, "Looks like you might just have had a tad worse day than mine."
Kerrie reached up with her one good hand, cupped his ear and nape of neck, confided, "The worst was not hearing your voice all day. Did something happen to your phone?"
"Well, first let me thank you again for blessing me yesterday with a new smart phone. Secondly, yes, I should have opted for that armored case, we discussed."
"What happened?" Kerrie saw the disappointment etched in David's face.
"Going," David slid into chair next Kerrie, "going to work, I stopped at the market to hunt and gather a few snacks. I even opted for the health conscious organic fruit section. But on the way thru the veggie aisle I spied a bright shiny George Washington on the floor. I braced my self on a display of some kinda gourds."
"Oh no," Kerrie knew that was not good.
"Oh yes," David continued, "I bent over to pick up the quarter, the phone fell out of my shirt pocket on to concrete floor, and the gourd display dislodged and rained avalanche down upon it."
"No doubt the gourds had to be spaghetti squash." Kerrie giggled.
"How did you know?" David smiled at her reaction.
"Better yet," Kerrie interrupted his thoughts, "you tell me why my brand new husband is late for our very first home cooked meal?" Kerrie giggled again, added, "Did the gourds get you?"
"Again, how did you know?" David truly wondered, as he answered her, "Well, after work, I wanted to be here early so I took the FM 616 short cut. Naturally, a turtle could have outrun the 18 wheeler in front of me. And joy of joys, or I should say gourd of gourds, the trailer came loose from semi, smacked down hard on the pavement, ruptured and spewed forth gourd Armageddon." David paused, a bit confused by the amused look and chuckles of Kerrie Sue.
"Continue," Kerrie smirked.
Gourds everywhere! All over and up and down the road! Zillions of them! And no way around!" David almost lost his breath.
"I might just know what happened next." Kerrie smiled.
"It was like a great wind parted the gourds," David continued, "rolled them to the road sides, filled the ditches... and yet, there was such, such a..."
"Great calm..." and Kerrie smiled...
Pray more... fuss less...
1st Thessalonians 5:16-17 and James 4:8
For an infinitely more awesome and true story of Biblical proportions, please see Jesus in action: Matthew 8:23-27.
-
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Monday, June 1, 2015
I NEVER PROMISED YOU A HERB GARDEN
"Every town has got one," apron clad proprietress Sally Lunn hissed at headlights peeking through Buttermilk Donuts store front window.
"Oh, he's not so bad," sporting croissant moon grin, cashier Madeleine Olla spoke up.
"Get a grip, before reality gets a grip on you, Maddi. You are out of your mind dating that, that pig in a blanket, Herbert Garden." Sally shuddered, rubbed goose bumps from flesh of forearm.
But Herbie is so cute," Maddi protested.
"Yeah, Herb sorta is the kimchi of cute," Sally muttered.
"Don't be a sauerkraut Sally," Maddi pouted.
"Just looking out for my favorite niece." Under arm, Sally hugged Maddi, let out a hearty, "Humphhh," in the direction of Herb Garden as he stepped out vehicle onto parking lot tar. "What man would drive an old butchered up van?" Sally shook head.
"Herbie cutting torched it behind front seat and added a wooden bed. He calls it his eco-truck. Creative isn't it?" Maddi admired.
"That's about as creative as onion fudge. And look at what he is wearing, stained overalls. Now that's a fashion statement!" With pinch of leaven, Sally added, "Maddi, you have wasted over a year dating nothing more than a handyman."
"Never judge an Herb Garden by his overalls," Maddi cooled Sally Lunn oven. "Herbie is Christian and uses his skills most every day to help the widows, children and poor of our town."
"Poor being the key word. How Herb even has enough money to buy coffee and a donut, I'll never know." Sally fretted.
As Sally gritted teeth, Herb strode in, sallied up to Sally and Maddi at counter, tipped paint spattered cap, said, "Sweet morning to not one but two scrumptious donut gals."
"If only you knew," Sally gave sourdough rise.
From under counter, Maddi popped out white paper bag donut half dozen and coffee thermos. "Your usual, Mr. Herbie." She leaned over counter, her sweet smile interrupted with kiss of Herb.
Herb let loose Maddi lips, grabbed donuts and coffee, headed for front door, over shoulder reminded, "See ya at two o'clock quitting time."
"Now I see how he affords my donuts... and my coffee," Sally Lunn baked.
"Now Aunt Sally, I always pay the till for Herbie, because I know the money he saves goes to help those in need." As Maddi watched eco-truck lights back out, turn and leave parking lot, she also shared, "I finally get to see Herb's home sweet home this afternoon."
"That log shack up on the ridge? Good luck it doesn't cave in and fall over the edge. But then again you get what you date; poor handyman equals... poor house. Wake up and smell the poverty, Maddi." Sally warned.
"Icing without cake... is but riches without soul..." Maddi hugged Aunt Sally.
An Aunt Sally who worried out loud, "I fear the bacon is just about to hit the frying pan. There is just something a tad strange bout old Herbie."
Two o'clock came, and two o'clock went up a winding gravel trail; and as eco-truck climbed so did the anticipation of sweethearts side by side inside, until...
"A... one room... cabin?" Standing in a rocky front yard punctuated with prickly pear cactus, Maddi was a wee more than a bit underwhelmed that the stone chimney overwhelmed the tiny log cabin and front porch.
"Ah, but are the least of true homes, not homes of mansion?" Even more than profound, Herbie teased..
"It's okay, Herbie." Maddi hugged his arm. "Mansions are of the heart."
And up the steps, and on to the porch, and through weather beaten cedar plank door, the two entered hand in hand, stood upon cabin stone floor. "Cozy," Maddi offered, as she studied every bare log of wall, each wood brace of roof, the native stone of fireplace hearth, the hanging cast iron pots, the cupboards, the rustic wood cot, the total lack of electricity, and no running water.
"Cozy," Herb interrupted her thoughts
"Cozy," Maddi repeated, punched Herb in the the same arm she clung to. "Now, funny man, where do you really live?"
"What?" With smile Herb fained, "What makes you think I don't live here?"
"Because you never stink," Maddi giggled, added, "no bathroom."
"Hey, is that not an antique wash stand, basin and ewer by yon back window?" Herb offered proof.
"Why yes, yes it is; and a very dry and dusty wash stand, basin and ewer they are." Maddi gave wide eyed the jig is up.
"Quite observant for a donut girl." He pulled her to him, caressed her neck with his nose all the way up to ear, whispered, "Oh how I love the fresh baked aroma of my Donut Girl." So followed the plant of Herb Garden kiss.
"So where?" Out of corner of kiss cornered lips, Maddi muttered, "Where do you really live?"
"There," Herb sort of pointed with nose to near log wall.
Out of corner of eye, Maddi starred hard, reached out, pushed. A fist sized portion of log sank in. Broad hidden door slid open. Herb stumbled as Maddi took off, dragging him with her into...
"This is no bathroom!" Maddi blinked, "Its an elevator... with lights."
"I got a bit tired of the manual chain hoist to your left and installed electric controls. Pretty nifty, eh?" Herb was not above admiring his own handy work.
"Down, please!" Maddi squealed in anticipation.
Herb pushed button, teased, "Descent of Donut Girl into dungeon below. BwaaaHaHa, BwaaaHaHa, Bwaa-erk!" Donut Girl elbow interrupted Herb ribs.
"You got some explaining to do, Mr. Herb," Maddi demanded. As elevator settled to floor, Maddi eyes saw, "The light, under ground sunlight! Everywhere, the sunlight is so bright!"
"Takes a while for the eyes to adjust, doesn't it?" Herb steadied her.
"Drawing tables, plans, computers, printers! My Herbie is an architect?"
"Guilty." Herb grinned.
"But sunlight? Under ground?" Arms down, palms up, as a moth to flame the light drew her from the arms of Herb to the... "Windows,.. oh my!" She gasped. "How high up are we?" The majesty of the river valley straight below swept her heart away, almost as much as her equilibrium.
"Roughly, I'd say it is about 399.33 feet or so from your feet to valley floor." Herb had surveyed. "But if you really want to see something, look to your left."
As wide as Maddi's eyes were, they grew wider, "A city, an underground city?" In near trance Maddi's feet felt as if floating toward...
"Not exactly under ground, nor a city." Herb explained, "Pueblo is the Indian term. In this case a town of cliff dwellers, who lived in these adobe buildings centuries ago."
"Wow, but how," Maddi wondered, "how many people have seen this?"
Of the living only one, until a minute ago, now two." Herb took her hand, "This alcove simply is not visible from any place, any angle it faces.
"But who found it and built the cabin, obviously over the entrance?" Maddi asked.
"The who found it, according to my late Dad, was my great grand father's horse Nugget. Seems old Nugget stepped into the camouflaged entrance and near broke a leg with great grandpa Eden Garden in saddle."
Pondering all these things in her heart, Maddi returned to the windows; and gazing out into the lush valley below, she felt familiar nose and lips warm her neck, She smiled, "I've said it once, I'll say it again, you just can't judge an Herb Garden by his overalls."
Standing behind her, Herb gathered her round waist with arm and hand. With other he retrieved from pocket a certain gold and diamond circle. Into her ear his warm breath waft sacred whisper, "Until now, I never promised you an Herb Garden... Maddi, will you..."
Bright sparkle drew the eyes of Maddi down to the hand of her Christian man. And without turning Maddi answered, "To never end... my Herb Garden shall I attend."
Isaiah 58:10-11; John 4:14 & 8:12; John 10:9-10
https://pawpawcorner.blogspot.com/2015/06/i-never-promised-herb-garden.htmlhttps://pawpawcorner.blogspot.com/2015/06/i-never-promised-you-a-herb-garden.html https://pawpawcorner.blogspot.com/2015/06/i-never-promised-you-a-herb-garden.html
"Oh, he's not so bad," sporting croissant moon grin, cashier Madeleine Olla spoke up.
"Get a grip, before reality gets a grip on you, Maddi. You are out of your mind dating that, that pig in a blanket, Herbert Garden." Sally shuddered, rubbed goose bumps from flesh of forearm.
But Herbie is so cute," Maddi protested.
"Yeah, Herb sorta is the kimchi of cute," Sally muttered.
"Don't be a sauerkraut Sally," Maddi pouted.
"Just looking out for my favorite niece." Under arm, Sally hugged Maddi, let out a hearty, "Humphhh," in the direction of Herb Garden as he stepped out vehicle onto parking lot tar. "What man would drive an old butchered up van?" Sally shook head.
"Herbie cutting torched it behind front seat and added a wooden bed. He calls it his eco-truck. Creative isn't it?" Maddi admired.
"That's about as creative as onion fudge. And look at what he is wearing, stained overalls. Now that's a fashion statement!" With pinch of leaven, Sally added, "Maddi, you have wasted over a year dating nothing more than a handyman."
"Never judge an Herb Garden by his overalls," Maddi cooled Sally Lunn oven. "Herbie is Christian and uses his skills most every day to help the widows, children and poor of our town."
"Poor being the key word. How Herb even has enough money to buy coffee and a donut, I'll never know." Sally fretted.
As Sally gritted teeth, Herb strode in, sallied up to Sally and Maddi at counter, tipped paint spattered cap, said, "Sweet morning to not one but two scrumptious donut gals."
"If only you knew," Sally gave sourdough rise.
From under counter, Maddi popped out white paper bag donut half dozen and coffee thermos. "Your usual, Mr. Herbie." She leaned over counter, her sweet smile interrupted with kiss of Herb.
Herb let loose Maddi lips, grabbed donuts and coffee, headed for front door, over shoulder reminded, "See ya at two o'clock quitting time."
"Now I see how he affords my donuts... and my coffee," Sally Lunn baked.
"Now Aunt Sally, I always pay the till for Herbie, because I know the money he saves goes to help those in need." As Maddi watched eco-truck lights back out, turn and leave parking lot, she also shared, "I finally get to see Herb's home sweet home this afternoon."
"That log shack up on the ridge? Good luck it doesn't cave in and fall over the edge. But then again you get what you date; poor handyman equals... poor house. Wake up and smell the poverty, Maddi." Sally warned.
"Icing without cake... is but riches without soul..." Maddi hugged Aunt Sally.
An Aunt Sally who worried out loud, "I fear the bacon is just about to hit the frying pan. There is just something a tad strange bout old Herbie."
Two o'clock came, and two o'clock went up a winding gravel trail; and as eco-truck climbed so did the anticipation of sweethearts side by side inside, until...
"A... one room... cabin?" Standing in a rocky front yard punctuated with prickly pear cactus, Maddi was a wee more than a bit underwhelmed that the stone chimney overwhelmed the tiny log cabin and front porch.
"Ah, but are the least of true homes, not homes of mansion?" Even more than profound, Herbie teased..
"It's okay, Herbie." Maddi hugged his arm. "Mansions are of the heart."
And up the steps, and on to the porch, and through weather beaten cedar plank door, the two entered hand in hand, stood upon cabin stone floor. "Cozy," Maddi offered, as she studied every bare log of wall, each wood brace of roof, the native stone of fireplace hearth, the hanging cast iron pots, the cupboards, the rustic wood cot, the total lack of electricity, and no running water.
"Cozy," Herb interrupted her thoughts
"Cozy," Maddi repeated, punched Herb in the the same arm she clung to. "Now, funny man, where do you really live?"
"What?" With smile Herb fained, "What makes you think I don't live here?"
"Because you never stink," Maddi giggled, added, "no bathroom."
"Hey, is that not an antique wash stand, basin and ewer by yon back window?" Herb offered proof.
"Why yes, yes it is; and a very dry and dusty wash stand, basin and ewer they are." Maddi gave wide eyed the jig is up.
"Quite observant for a donut girl." He pulled her to him, caressed her neck with his nose all the way up to ear, whispered, "Oh how I love the fresh baked aroma of my Donut Girl." So followed the plant of Herb Garden kiss.
"So where?" Out of corner of kiss cornered lips, Maddi muttered, "Where do you really live?"
"There," Herb sort of pointed with nose to near log wall.
Out of corner of eye, Maddi starred hard, reached out, pushed. A fist sized portion of log sank in. Broad hidden door slid open. Herb stumbled as Maddi took off, dragging him with her into...
"This is no bathroom!" Maddi blinked, "Its an elevator... with lights."
"I got a bit tired of the manual chain hoist to your left and installed electric controls. Pretty nifty, eh?" Herb was not above admiring his own handy work.
"Down, please!" Maddi squealed in anticipation.
Herb pushed button, teased, "Descent of Donut Girl into dungeon below. BwaaaHaHa, BwaaaHaHa, Bwaa-erk!" Donut Girl elbow interrupted Herb ribs.
"You got some explaining to do, Mr. Herb," Maddi demanded. As elevator settled to floor, Maddi eyes saw, "The light, under ground sunlight! Everywhere, the sunlight is so bright!"
"Takes a while for the eyes to adjust, doesn't it?" Herb steadied her.
"Drawing tables, plans, computers, printers! My Herbie is an architect?"
"Guilty." Herb grinned.
"But sunlight? Under ground?" Arms down, palms up, as a moth to flame the light drew her from the arms of Herb to the... "Windows,.. oh my!" She gasped. "How high up are we?" The majesty of the river valley straight below swept her heart away, almost as much as her equilibrium.
"Roughly, I'd say it is about 399.33 feet or so from your feet to valley floor." Herb had surveyed. "But if you really want to see something, look to your left."
As wide as Maddi's eyes were, they grew wider, "A city, an underground city?" In near trance Maddi's feet felt as if floating toward...
"Not exactly under ground, nor a city." Herb explained, "Pueblo is the Indian term. In this case a town of cliff dwellers, who lived in these adobe buildings centuries ago."
"Wow, but how," Maddi wondered, "how many people have seen this?"
Of the living only one, until a minute ago, now two." Herb took her hand, "This alcove simply is not visible from any place, any angle it faces.
"But who found it and built the cabin, obviously over the entrance?" Maddi asked.
"The who found it, according to my late Dad, was my great grand father's horse Nugget. Seems old Nugget stepped into the camouflaged entrance and near broke a leg with great grandpa Eden Garden in saddle."
Pondering all these things in her heart, Maddi returned to the windows; and gazing out into the lush valley below, she felt familiar nose and lips warm her neck, She smiled, "I've said it once, I'll say it again, you just can't judge an Herb Garden by his overalls."
Standing behind her, Herb gathered her round waist with arm and hand. With other he retrieved from pocket a certain gold and diamond circle. Into her ear his warm breath waft sacred whisper, "Until now, I never promised you an Herb Garden... Maddi, will you..."
Bright sparkle drew the eyes of Maddi down to the hand of her Christian man. And without turning Maddi answered, "To never end... my Herb Garden shall I attend."
Isaiah 58:10-11; John 4:14 & 8:12; John 10:9-10
https://pawpawcorner.blogspot.com/2015/06/i-never-promised-herb-garden.htmlhttps://pawpawcorner.blogspot.com/2015/06/i-never-promised-you-a-herb-garden.html https://pawpawcorner.blogspot.com/2015/06/i-never-promised-you-a-herb-garden.html
Monday, May 11, 2015
WATERY WEATHERED WISPY WINK
Bleak black blank blink... watery weathered wispy wink... nothing out... nothing in... bleak black blank blink... watery weathered wispy wink...
Cheryl knew that too unwell too pale look: the lull before the storm, the receding tide before tsunami, the rumble before...
Mount Tim spewed lava salad, grabbed water glass, rinsed and in near panic searched restaurant table, then floor, then table again, grabbed salad bowl and spit. As he repeated the rinsing, a lady at nearby table gagged; her husband glared.
Elbow on table, Cheryl clutched forehead in palm, sighed, "Not again."
"Onions," Tim stared into salad, picked at it with fork, exposed dreaded veggie.
"Tim," Cheryl warned.
"Onions in the salad," Tim's pale face lightly flushed.
"People are watching," Cheryl breathed under breath.
"Can they not get an order right?" His face grew redder.
Cheryl reached across table, held his hand.
"They tried to kill me! Which part of no onions, I am allergic to onions, please make sure no onions touch my food, do people not understand?" Tim rinsed mouth and spit again. The salad bowl overflowed onto table. Tim weakly choked out, "Doctor."
"Oh alas, forsooth and woe is me, Tim. Just shut up. Your prima donna has merged with your drama queen." Cheryl raised eyebrow.
Tim shut it, but grew even redder in the face, like an over ripe tomato about to burst in blazing mid-day sun.
"I am sick of your hypochondria induced anger. You need a doctor alright, a psychiatrist!" Cheryl flared a little anger of her own.
The eerily silent face of Tim morphed from red to purple, his eyes crossed, he slumped forward at increasing velocity, until viola: ker-splatting face into onion laced salad bowl and plowing tsunami of water logged lettuce, tomato, cucumber and onion toward dress and wincing face of Cheryl.
"Tim! You pig! You have embarrassed me for the last time!" Cheryl would have made a screaming banshee proud.
...A tad later, sitting in the St. Patrick Hospital E.R. waiting room, Cheryl found no solace from the fact that she would never again be embarrassed by her husband. Sat there too unwell with a too pale look... bleak black blank blink... watery weathered wispy wink...
Postscript: Until it strikes too close to home, it is often hard for us, who do not suffer allergy or other illness, to relate to those who do. At the least we should not criticize, belittle, nor make light of. Perhaps we might even protect and love instead; as in speak blessings: Proverbs 16:24 KJ, "Pleasant words are as an honey comb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones."
Cheryl knew that too unwell too pale look: the lull before the storm, the receding tide before tsunami, the rumble before...
Mount Tim spewed lava salad, grabbed water glass, rinsed and in near panic searched restaurant table, then floor, then table again, grabbed salad bowl and spit. As he repeated the rinsing, a lady at nearby table gagged; her husband glared.
Elbow on table, Cheryl clutched forehead in palm, sighed, "Not again."
"Onions," Tim stared into salad, picked at it with fork, exposed dreaded veggie.
"Tim," Cheryl warned.
"Onions in the salad," Tim's pale face lightly flushed.
"People are watching," Cheryl breathed under breath.
"Can they not get an order right?" His face grew redder.
Cheryl reached across table, held his hand.
"They tried to kill me! Which part of no onions, I am allergic to onions, please make sure no onions touch my food, do people not understand?" Tim rinsed mouth and spit again. The salad bowl overflowed onto table. Tim weakly choked out, "Doctor."
"Oh alas, forsooth and woe is me, Tim. Just shut up. Your prima donna has merged with your drama queen." Cheryl raised eyebrow.
Tim shut it, but grew even redder in the face, like an over ripe tomato about to burst in blazing mid-day sun.
"I am sick of your hypochondria induced anger. You need a doctor alright, a psychiatrist!" Cheryl flared a little anger of her own.
The eerily silent face of Tim morphed from red to purple, his eyes crossed, he slumped forward at increasing velocity, until viola: ker-splatting face into onion laced salad bowl and plowing tsunami of water logged lettuce, tomato, cucumber and onion toward dress and wincing face of Cheryl.
"Tim! You pig! You have embarrassed me for the last time!" Cheryl would have made a screaming banshee proud.
...A tad later, sitting in the St. Patrick Hospital E.R. waiting room, Cheryl found no solace from the fact that she would never again be embarrassed by her husband. Sat there too unwell with a too pale look... bleak black blank blink... watery weathered wispy wink...
Postscript: Until it strikes too close to home, it is often hard for us, who do not suffer allergy or other illness, to relate to those who do. At the least we should not criticize, belittle, nor make light of. Perhaps we might even protect and love instead; as in speak blessings: Proverbs 16:24 KJ, "Pleasant words are as an honey comb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones."
Friday, April 24, 2015
NAUGHTY FIGS
"No wonder I couldn't find it," Adam Figg feigned aha moment, plucked favorite coffee mug from cupboard. "Since when did we start putting things where they belong?" He teased.
"If snide boy wants breakfast, he should not criticize the cook." Eva Figg arched left eyebrow in direction of pestering husband.
Pestering husband smiled, slinked up behind Eva as she flipped eggs in mid scramble. Round her rounding tummy went gentle hand, with other he caressed her long brunette hair to side, exposing freckled nape of neck, and he kissed, and he whispered, "How do you smell so good in the morning?" So began the usual Figg family dance, that had led to a whole lot a little Figgs.
The full lips of Eva Figg slightly parted, sighed familiar sigh...
"Daddy," little Ruthie tugged his pant leg, "Daddy leave mommy alone, so she can cook me breakfast. I'm hungry!" Came the all too usual Figg family dance interruption...
...Not long after, Daddy at breakfast table had just, "Amened," the morning prayer, and platters passed around...
Did little Ruthie ask, "Daddy can you please jelly my biscuit?"
Daddy looked down the table. Eva had not the jar of fig preserves. Neither did Matt, Mark, Luke, nor John, nor did Moses, nor Elijah, nor Isaiah, nor Jeremiah at end of ta... "Jeremiah, what is that hiding behind your glass of milk?"
Jeremiah answered with oops wide eyed look, then matter-of-facted, "Well, it used to be a jar of fig preserves." He held empty jar up for Dad's inspection. He smiled, offered, "But for Little Sis, I'll sure fetch another jar from the pantry."
In moments, slathering fig preserves on Ruthie's biscuit, Daddy Adam stirred reflection, "In the Bible, what were the contents of the two baskets, that the LORD set before the prophet Jeremiah at the temple?"
And Jeremiah, the youngest of the brothers stands again, thrusts forth index finger and recites as if it were written on the wall, "Jeremiah 24:2 KJ, 'One basket had very good figs, even like figs that are first ripe: and the other basket had very naughty figs, which could not be eaten, they were so bad.'"
Dad asks, "What does that mean?"
The children grew quiet.
Eva cued, "Could it be that the naughty figs represent folks who hide from the washing and refining of our Creator?"
"They reject and avoid fulfilling God's purpose for them," Moses shook head.
"They fall to the ground and rot." Elijah sighed.
"But the good figs," little Ruthie took delicious bite of fig preserve laden biscuit, "the good figs," she chewed, swallowed, took gulp of cool milk, "the good figs are gathered, washed, cooked in Mommy's pot, get lots a sugar on 'em, and are sealed in jars, so I can eat 'em now!"
Good figs... have God purpose." Luke smiled.
God refines us to be good figs... because he loves us," John added joy.
"But no matter how good figs are," Eva enlightened, "they are never washed clean enough nor refined pure enough for God in heaven, until washed and purified by his son, Jesus. For by believing in Jesus or rejecting Jesus, figs are either... preserved forever... or wither away..."
"And who are the Jesus washed and refined good figs?" Daddy Adam asked.
"Children of God!" All the little Figgs sang out.
"Believing is... be-living..." Little Ruthie squealed.
John 3:16-18; Romans 3:23; 6:23; 5:8; 10:9
Post Script: If any naughty figs have fallen to the ground in your back yard, please direct them to the B-I-B-L-E and nearest Christian Church. (For a fuller explanation of the washing and refining process, please read "The Fullers Soap," https://pawpawcorner.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-fullers-soap.html
"If snide boy wants breakfast, he should not criticize the cook." Eva Figg arched left eyebrow in direction of pestering husband.
Pestering husband smiled, slinked up behind Eva as she flipped eggs in mid scramble. Round her rounding tummy went gentle hand, with other he caressed her long brunette hair to side, exposing freckled nape of neck, and he kissed, and he whispered, "How do you smell so good in the morning?" So began the usual Figg family dance, that had led to a whole lot a little Figgs.
The full lips of Eva Figg slightly parted, sighed familiar sigh...
"Daddy," little Ruthie tugged his pant leg, "Daddy leave mommy alone, so she can cook me breakfast. I'm hungry!" Came the all too usual Figg family dance interruption...
...Not long after, Daddy at breakfast table had just, "Amened," the morning prayer, and platters passed around...
Did little Ruthie ask, "Daddy can you please jelly my biscuit?"
Daddy looked down the table. Eva had not the jar of fig preserves. Neither did Matt, Mark, Luke, nor John, nor did Moses, nor Elijah, nor Isaiah, nor Jeremiah at end of ta... "Jeremiah, what is that hiding behind your glass of milk?"
Jeremiah answered with oops wide eyed look, then matter-of-facted, "Well, it used to be a jar of fig preserves." He held empty jar up for Dad's inspection. He smiled, offered, "But for Little Sis, I'll sure fetch another jar from the pantry."
In moments, slathering fig preserves on Ruthie's biscuit, Daddy Adam stirred reflection, "In the Bible, what were the contents of the two baskets, that the LORD set before the prophet Jeremiah at the temple?"
And Jeremiah, the youngest of the brothers stands again, thrusts forth index finger and recites as if it were written on the wall, "Jeremiah 24:2 KJ, 'One basket had very good figs, even like figs that are first ripe: and the other basket had very naughty figs, which could not be eaten, they were so bad.'"
Dad asks, "What does that mean?"
The children grew quiet.
Eva cued, "Could it be that the naughty figs represent folks who hide from the washing and refining of our Creator?"
"They reject and avoid fulfilling God's purpose for them," Moses shook head.
"They fall to the ground and rot." Elijah sighed.
"But the good figs," little Ruthie took delicious bite of fig preserve laden biscuit, "the good figs," she chewed, swallowed, took gulp of cool milk, "the good figs are gathered, washed, cooked in Mommy's pot, get lots a sugar on 'em, and are sealed in jars, so I can eat 'em now!"
Good figs... have God purpose." Luke smiled.
God refines us to be good figs... because he loves us," John added joy.
"But no matter how good figs are," Eva enlightened, "they are never washed clean enough nor refined pure enough for God in heaven, until washed and purified by his son, Jesus. For by believing in Jesus or rejecting Jesus, figs are either... preserved forever... or wither away..."
"And who are the Jesus washed and refined good figs?" Daddy Adam asked.
"Children of God!" All the little Figgs sang out.
"Believing is... be-living..." Little Ruthie squealed.
John 3:16-18; Romans 3:23; 6:23; 5:8; 10:9
Post Script: If any naughty figs have fallen to the ground in your back yard, please direct them to the B-I-B-L-E and nearest Christian Church. (For a fuller explanation of the washing and refining process, please read "The Fullers Soap," https://pawpawcorner.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-fullers-soap.html
Thursday, December 11, 2014
CROQUETTE ROULETTE
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
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 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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)