"Cross sea of burning desert sands, tumbling tumble weeds assuage harsh lands."
"You need to assuage up on the metaphors, Ted." Khaki clad Tess rolled eyes, shifted sore butt, held on to hat. "One hundred twenty-one dust bump miles in an open air, circa WWII, faded army green, four wheel drive! What could possibly go wrong in no end desert?"
Steam erupted from under hood. Dust caked wheels slowed.
"Well the bright side, no more holding on to my hat." Thinly clad, Tess concern morphed dire.
"Come on, come on Old Mule." Ted gripped hard, pushed hard the steering wheel.
Near death, antiquated motor lurched and jerked Old Mule along, along in the heat of no end desert, where all that walked or crawled, all that drew breath tread, near death.
In that unforgiving wilderness, Tess looked to that in the distance, prayed, "I lift up my eyes to the hills, from where does my help come..." Her eyes grew wide. A wall of rain lay live ahead. Straight like a fence, rain divided sand and cactus on the one side, from knee high prairie grass on the other. And as they entered wet wall the sputtering motor cooled, began to purr. And as their desert rat hats ran with rain, Tess and Ted squealed laughter of children.
Once thru the wall of rain, loomed the foot, then... the mountain.
Laughter turned awe, awe pierced by Tess a squeal, "Antelope!"
"Pronghorns, hundreds of them!" Ted a joy grinned.
"A thousand, even more!" Tess squealed again.
Pronghorn antelope raced ahead of Old Mule. Abruptly the horde of herd turned, every doe, buck and fawn of them bent on running and leaping cross road. On inky asphalt Old Mule tires followed lead of motor, deceased turning. But rapt in joy Tess and Ted lost concept of time, gained ageless spirit, even to the end, the end of the line slowpoke pronghorn stragglers easing on by and by.
Standing up, hands on top of windshield, Tess let flow, "Wow, amazing, awesome, totally wild! Thank you Jesus!" Smiling a bliss, she sat, turned eyes to husband, who now white knuckled Old Mule steering wheel.
"Ted, what's wrong?"
Ted unlocked eyes from rear view mirror, rolled them in gesture to back seat, whispered, "We have a passenger. Do - not - turn - around."
Of wifely course, Tess turned around...
Yellow green eyes locked into hers. Deep thunder rolled from chest and throat of passenger.
A tad moist tongue licked Tess freckled nose. Tess giggled, like a child reached out, caressed golden fur twixt black tipped ears. "Aww, he's purring. I think he likes me." Tess giggled again.
Ted turned too. "What is he? Too big and long legged to be domestic, yet unlike any native wildlife I've ever seen or read about. What is he?"
Friendly," Tess matter of facted, "and such a cute wittle brown nose amid dark stripes and gold." Tess rubbed noses with feline enigma. She ruffled the dark spotted golden fur of his sides and belly. "But look his spotted body has those long striped legs, and like wow, look at the size of those paws."
"Well at least he hasn't eaten us yet." Ted relaxed, restarted Old Mule motor.
"So, we are taking him with us?" Tess grinned.
"How are we going to remove a forty pound cat out of that back seat?" Ted grinned right back, put Old Mule in gear, rolled toward foot of mountain.
"Well," Tess surmised, "Lynx sounds like a good name."
"Except unlike the lynx, he has a long striped tail." Ted observed.
"Black tipped with a cross rising from it... kind a like the cross on the back and shoulders of a certain donkey," Tess biblically awondered.
Old Mule, Ted at wheel, began winding up foot to ever steeper spiraling path of 6,791 foot Mt. Locke. Near the top Old Mule began, "Bucking like a crow-hopping bronc." Tess unabashedly squealed.
"Hope we make it." Ted was not sure.
"With all the signs awonder, we will make it, for our keeper neither slumbers nor sleeps," Tess rang faith, from the knee high, to lofty sky.
And from back seat rolled purr of thunder; and the newly named Lynx laid head on Tess shoulder.
As Old Mule brayed in protest over Mt. Locke ridge, two massive domes greeted eyes of Tess and Ted.
"Now those are what I call t-e-l-e-scopes!" Ted arched brow.
"Tellers of celestial tales," Tess quipped.
Deep thunder vibrated Tess shoulder to cheek.
"That tickles." Tess squinched neck.
Soon Tess got tickled again, "Here we are, rolling up in front of the Star Date Cafe at the McDonalds, Mcdonalds Observatory that is, hee-hee."
"Gee sweetie, you just pegged out on the pun groan-o-meter. Bet the cafe staff never heard that one before." Ted hopped out Old Mule, walked round, opened door for one semi-simmering Tess. Soon as her feet hit the ground, Lynx hopped out beside her.
Holding hubby arm up the steps to cafe, Tess grumbled, "Ted, if ever there was a sport to spoil, you'd spoil it. But yeah, they probably do get a bit tired of hearing the same puns day after day. Thank you Professor Censordom. I will control my precocious temperament."
"At a girl," Ted hugged Tess to him, opened door, Lynx snook in beside them, twitching long tail all the way up to cafe counter.
"What will you fine folks have today?" asked Big Mac, as read the name tag.
"Sooo," the flicker of Ted's resistance was short, "forgive my observation but ta, now taking our order is Big Mac at the Mcdonalds, McDonalds Observatory that is." Ted chuckle exploded to full blown cackling.
Tess punched Ted arm, "That was mine! You devious pun McSwiper." Tess snickered.
One stoic and truly big Big Mac stared down, stifling Tess and Ted laughter with uneven brow. Dry as the desert wind he spoke, "You do know pets are not allowed, especially pets big enough to eat fellow diners."
"Not our pet." Ted shrugged.
"Who says!" Tess stooped, hugged over sized kitty.
Like left out over night coagulated cheese and macaroni, the face of Big Mac remained disapproval stuck. Yet, the sight of Tess in kitty a hug, remelted Big Mac's cheesy heart, "Actually, the cat is one of our regulars. We call him The Lynx," Mac grew smile, "even though his tail is long."
Eyes wide open Tess near cried, "Yet another sign of wonder."
...At dusk, after scrumptious meal of sweet tea, maze chips and jalapeno chili, well, well Tess and Ted burped. They burped all the way walking to the Rebecca Gale Telescope Park for visitors. And there so were they blessed, so did they wonder, so did Tess and Ted enter worlds of the light, our outer solar system planets and moons, the Milky Way stars, even novae and galaxies a spin far... far away...
Later under cover of cool desert night, as Old Mule transported hand holding couple... "I lift up my eyes to the hills, from where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth," Tess softly sang awonder.
And in rear view mirror, Ted beheld upon Tess shoulder the reflection of celestial stars alight in the eyes of the passenger... heard deep rolling thunder from chest and throat...
So it is for knee high children of light, thru sand of desert, thru wall of rain, thru grass of prairie, to the foot, to the mountain, to the stars, to the galaxies, to home... the journey just begun...
Postscript: To understand this little tale please read Psalm 121 KJV
We become +children of the light+ +the children of God+ +thru Jesus+: John 8:12 & 12:36; Ephesians 5:8 & Galatians 3:26; 1st John 1:5 & Revelations 21:23 KJV
SPECIAL NOTE: The LYNX: Returning home down country road after fire works July 4th 2018, God blessed the wife and I with a 'gift'. As we passed over the canal bridge near our home, truck headlights flashed on a little kitten with long legs and long long tail. In front of our house we exited the truck to see those long legs propelling that kitten full tilt down the road toward us and into my arms. We immediately named him Lynx and became his Momma and Pa Pa that night. At less than a year old he is growing exponentially and already larger than our adult cats. So now you know who the cat in the story is named after. But what you don't know is that during the writing of this story and at story completion a still small voice kept repeating, "What does Lynx mean?" So I opened the dictionary: Lynx - from the Greek leukos - white light... So does our little Lynx point to his Maker...
Monday, March 11, 2019
Friday, February 15, 2019
AWRY AWRY
"Awry, awry!" Crooked finger near touched mirror.
"So be wrinkles of men." Tess giggled, wrapped in towel, stepped out shower.
"Me thinks twixt wifely towel pleats deep tucked platitudes dwell," Ted spoke to her mirror image.
"Thou be one PBS special away from being crowned, Ted." Tess cast green glint of eye.
"I be Royal Ted to thee lassy." In the mirror stroke of safety razor cut thru sudsy snow, from cheek to jaw laid path low.
Thus Tess coiled and popped that tad damp towel.
"Yeeeowee!" Ted blew lather cross mirror.
"Ah, more like town crier than royalty." Tess recast towel round her, plucked nother from rack, turban tucked it round moppy wet hair. "Best get a move on whimper boy or risk miss of kickoff, where you can put that cat yowling to good use." She chuckled.
At the ticket booth, Tess and Ted heard booming rah of that opening kickoff, followed by throat ripping screams of hometown fans, "Get him! Get him!"
Moments later Ted cast weary eye to scoreboard, "Visitors 6 Home 0."
"At least we got seats," Tess kidded, "right next to the band thanks to Mr. Smooth Shaver. Just pray we retain our hearing."
"Just pray, no matter who wins, no one gets hurt." Ted let sigh.
"You ought to know, gimpy boy." Tess hugged his arm.
"Twenty years later I'm still gimp along Ted. Ironically same date of injury anniversary, against the same team. Ruined my college and pro-career."
"Ted, you weighed a hundred and forty-five pounds and were maybe a tad quicker than a snail stuck in molasses." Tess giggled. "The only future career in football you had was ticket taker or peanut bag flinger."
"Ah, alas and forsooth, there be the rub. I should be king save for gale of windy wench." Ted punctuated lament with back of wrist to forehead.
"Wench!" Tess punch punctuated the arm she hugged.
"Queen, oh precious Queen of me heart, pardon prior miscast dart," too late pled the tad snail brained Ted.
Tess slid arm from Ted's, sat silently in football stand. The opening kickoff of pouting began.
Quoth the Ted, under breath said, "Oft lips sailed unto atoll shadows, wreck upon reefs fatal shallows."
Screaming cheers erased atoll shadows. Foe fumble propelled Tess and Ted to feet and into each others arms. Home town defensive lineman scooped up the ball, lumbered, stumbled toward the end zone. Amid mid scream of her own Tess near shook Ted's arm out of joint. Ted gladly sacrificed that arm for reprieve of wifely pout. Quoth the Ted, "Sometimes you gotta ebb, before you can flow."
And later at home that very night, Ted breathed lip to lip, "My Queen's lips be the kiss of key lime tart."
"Nostalgia to be, this sweet tart of time." Tess snuggled closer.
Ted hugged Tess tight. "Wouldest love we know, without life of ebb and flow?"
"Or the desert blossom as the rose." Tess sighed.
"You always gotta have the last word, don't cha, Tess." Ted lips kissed her neck.
"Yeah." Tess giggled.
Blessing or perdition... the lips... over 125 verses in the Bible...
Ecclesiastes 3:1 KJV, "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."
Beautiful progression of scriptures:THE ROSE: Isaiah 35:1&8 with John 14:6 & 3:16 KJV
(Parting thought: Would Ted trade lack of limp and football career for his Tess? So should we not trade the love of Jesus, not even for the gain of the whole world... Mark 8:36)
"So be wrinkles of men." Tess giggled, wrapped in towel, stepped out shower.
"Me thinks twixt wifely towel pleats deep tucked platitudes dwell," Ted spoke to her mirror image.
"Thou be one PBS special away from being crowned, Ted." Tess cast green glint of eye.
"I be Royal Ted to thee lassy." In the mirror stroke of safety razor cut thru sudsy snow, from cheek to jaw laid path low.
Thus Tess coiled and popped that tad damp towel.
"Yeeeowee!" Ted blew lather cross mirror.
"Ah, more like town crier than royalty." Tess recast towel round her, plucked nother from rack, turban tucked it round moppy wet hair. "Best get a move on whimper boy or risk miss of kickoff, where you can put that cat yowling to good use." She chuckled.
At the ticket booth, Tess and Ted heard booming rah of that opening kickoff, followed by throat ripping screams of hometown fans, "Get him! Get him!"
Moments later Ted cast weary eye to scoreboard, "Visitors 6 Home 0."
"At least we got seats," Tess kidded, "right next to the band thanks to Mr. Smooth Shaver. Just pray we retain our hearing."
"Just pray, no matter who wins, no one gets hurt." Ted let sigh.
"You ought to know, gimpy boy." Tess hugged his arm.
"Twenty years later I'm still gimp along Ted. Ironically same date of injury anniversary, against the same team. Ruined my college and pro-career."
"Ted, you weighed a hundred and forty-five pounds and were maybe a tad quicker than a snail stuck in molasses." Tess giggled. "The only future career in football you had was ticket taker or peanut bag flinger."
"Ah, alas and forsooth, there be the rub. I should be king save for gale of windy wench." Ted punctuated lament with back of wrist to forehead.
"Wench!" Tess punch punctuated the arm she hugged.
"Queen, oh precious Queen of me heart, pardon prior miscast dart," too late pled the tad snail brained Ted.
Tess slid arm from Ted's, sat silently in football stand. The opening kickoff of pouting began.
Quoth the Ted, under breath said, "Oft lips sailed unto atoll shadows, wreck upon reefs fatal shallows."
Screaming cheers erased atoll shadows. Foe fumble propelled Tess and Ted to feet and into each others arms. Home town defensive lineman scooped up the ball, lumbered, stumbled toward the end zone. Amid mid scream of her own Tess near shook Ted's arm out of joint. Ted gladly sacrificed that arm for reprieve of wifely pout. Quoth the Ted, "Sometimes you gotta ebb, before you can flow."
And later at home that very night, Ted breathed lip to lip, "My Queen's lips be the kiss of key lime tart."
"Nostalgia to be, this sweet tart of time." Tess snuggled closer.
Ted hugged Tess tight. "Wouldest love we know, without life of ebb and flow?"
"Or the desert blossom as the rose." Tess sighed.
"You always gotta have the last word, don't cha, Tess." Ted lips kissed her neck.
"Yeah." Tess giggled.
Blessing or perdition... the lips... over 125 verses in the Bible...
Ecclesiastes 3:1 KJV, "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."
Beautiful progression of scriptures:THE ROSE: Isaiah 35:1&8 with John 14:6 & 3:16 KJV
(Parting thought: Would Ted trade lack of limp and football career for his Tess? So should we not trade the love of Jesus, not even for the gain of the whole world... Mark 8:36)
Sunday, January 27, 2019
WINDOW WEATHER
..IN THE MOONLIGHT FRAIL
Twixt high in the sky shore of Lake Woemeeicthee encircling volcanic ridge, moonlit wisps of chimney smoke trailed to the clear sky stars from cabins woven like bird nests neath pine, fir and maple. Thus it was that in one such borrowed cabin, the eve of first wedding anniversary neared midnight.
In the pane of window flames of hearth burned reflection, framed the silhouette of love, where perched on window seat, neath relaxed lids, the eyes of Tess and Ted peeked out.
Ted sighed, "Beauty is drifting down snow in the pale moonlight."
"Yet other side of window casts icy frost bite." Warm breath drifted tween Tess soft parted lips.
The kiss tasted of toasty delight.
But yet, oh my how yet, did that pale moonlight, that aura of allure, compel the turning of faces thru window, a window to snow blanketed beach laced with volcanic black sand toes, toes strumming edge of shimmering warm waters, the tongue lapping waters of Lake Woemeeitchee.
In near trance they arose, led by the nose, so unlatched they the window, and about they slipped out. Barely did stocking feet feel icy snow trail in that moonlight frail, til Ted face down fell into that icy ice snow and volcanic beach sand. It packed his mouth and even his eyes, so were the consequences of nature's beautiful lies?
Tess tried to help him up, but coughing out snow mixed sand and with blinded eyes, Ted stumbled forward, ever forward into the shimmering warm waters, the tongue lapping waters of Lake Woemeeitchee. There Ted redux fell into crater lake waters, warm waters that washed grit of sand mixed snow from eyes and mouth; til Lake Woemeeitchee wave nudged Ted to land, slapped Ted half-awake into Tess sweet hands.
In the pane of window, flames of hearth burned reflection, framed the silhouette of love, where perched on window seat, neath relaxed lids, the eyes of Tess and Ted peeked out.
"You sort a nodded off on me for a while there, didn't cha, Ted." Tess purred, ran fingers thru her sweet Ted's hair.
At peace, Ted sighed, "Grace is as the drifting down of snow in the pale moonlight, a blessing to my Tess and I this very night.
Warm breath drifted tween Tess soft parted lips, "So is the drifting snow beautiful... on this side of window."
The kiss tasted of toasty delight.
We are so blessed to have the pure drifting down snow... a beautiful symbol of the grace we share... when we ask Jesus into our hearts (Isaiah 1:18) (John 3:16).
Nature does not lie (Psalms 8:3-4 and Romans 1:19-20), but Satan lies about it. So did, in the book of Genesis, that old serpent Satan deceive Eve and Adam to worship the gift (creation), rather than the giver, the Creator, our LORD. Which side of the window do you choose?
Gluggavedur: Scandi for 'window weather': What is nice to look at thru window, may not be nice to be out in... if not properly clothed. Isaiah 61:10 KJV, "I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels."
Mangata: Swedish for 'moon road,' the trail of light left by the moons reflection on the sea; i.e. the feeling of falling in love.
Lagom: Swedish for moderation and balance, health and contentment.
I think God has a lot to say about all this... in the Holy Bible...
Twixt high in the sky shore of Lake Woemeeicthee encircling volcanic ridge, moonlit wisps of chimney smoke trailed to the clear sky stars from cabins woven like bird nests neath pine, fir and maple. Thus it was that in one such borrowed cabin, the eve of first wedding anniversary neared midnight.
In the pane of window flames of hearth burned reflection, framed the silhouette of love, where perched on window seat, neath relaxed lids, the eyes of Tess and Ted peeked out.
Ted sighed, "Beauty is drifting down snow in the pale moonlight."
"Yet other side of window casts icy frost bite." Warm breath drifted tween Tess soft parted lips.
The kiss tasted of toasty delight.
But yet, oh my how yet, did that pale moonlight, that aura of allure, compel the turning of faces thru window, a window to snow blanketed beach laced with volcanic black sand toes, toes strumming edge of shimmering warm waters, the tongue lapping waters of Lake Woemeeitchee.
In near trance they arose, led by the nose, so unlatched they the window, and about they slipped out. Barely did stocking feet feel icy snow trail in that moonlight frail, til Ted face down fell into that icy ice snow and volcanic beach sand. It packed his mouth and even his eyes, so were the consequences of nature's beautiful lies?
Tess tried to help him up, but coughing out snow mixed sand and with blinded eyes, Ted stumbled forward, ever forward into the shimmering warm waters, the tongue lapping waters of Lake Woemeeitchee. There Ted redux fell into crater lake waters, warm waters that washed grit of sand mixed snow from eyes and mouth; til Lake Woemeeitchee wave nudged Ted to land, slapped Ted half-awake into Tess sweet hands.
In the pane of window, flames of hearth burned reflection, framed the silhouette of love, where perched on window seat, neath relaxed lids, the eyes of Tess and Ted peeked out.
"You sort a nodded off on me for a while there, didn't cha, Ted." Tess purred, ran fingers thru her sweet Ted's hair.
At peace, Ted sighed, "Grace is as the drifting down of snow in the pale moonlight, a blessing to my Tess and I this very night.
Warm breath drifted tween Tess soft parted lips, "So is the drifting snow beautiful... on this side of window."
The kiss tasted of toasty delight.
We are so blessed to have the pure drifting down snow... a beautiful symbol of the grace we share... when we ask Jesus into our hearts (Isaiah 1:18) (John 3:16).
Nature does not lie (Psalms 8:3-4 and Romans 1:19-20), but Satan lies about it. So did, in the book of Genesis, that old serpent Satan deceive Eve and Adam to worship the gift (creation), rather than the giver, the Creator, our LORD. Which side of the window do you choose?
Gluggavedur: Scandi for 'window weather': What is nice to look at thru window, may not be nice to be out in... if not properly clothed. Isaiah 61:10 KJV, "I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels."
Mangata: Swedish for 'moon road,' the trail of light left by the moons reflection on the sea; i.e. the feeling of falling in love.
Lagom: Swedish for moderation and balance, health and contentment.
I think God has a lot to say about all this... in the Holy Bible...
Saturday, November 17, 2018
SELF A STEAM
"As far as the east is from the west," Ted puffed a huff, "that's when I can stop."
In hie hurry stride Ted neared sidewalk trot, as he blast past Autumn Boutique, past Summers End Flowers, past Open Door Cafe... stopped, froze, ceased breath. He stepped backward to the open door of Open Door Cafe; took eternal breath. "There," breath rushed out, "in there, there I am."
Ted thread door, tread up to cafe table, pulled out chair, sat down, stared eye to eye narrow at coffee sipping Self.
Coffee mug met table top. "Do I know you?" Self smugly smiled.
Ted's noggin hurt. "What," was all he had, yet his mind raced on, almost spit out the obvious conclusion.
"No Ted, I am not your twin." Self's smile grew a tad.
"But how, why, who?" Ted be befuddled.
"I once lived in you," Self hoisted mug, "but now I am sitting cross table." Coffee steam arose, became one with inner nose.
"So you would have me believe that you are my, my conscience, and now this is your new thing?"
"Not new, more gradual. Gradually you pushed me out each time you had no time, each time you hurried out home door with Tess right there, waiting for the scent of kiss that wafted away."
"Who are you to criticize me? I don't even know you." Ted's own words hurt his head. Bewildered cry escaped Ted lips, "Jesus help."
In forgotten corner an antique, broken down, and unplugged jukebox whirled to life, lit up rainbow bright, set up record, played a knowing tune of knowing light, "As far as the east is from the west, that's how far love is..."
Ted turned attention back cross table. Through swirl of steam from lone coffee mug, he beheld empty chair.
Ted pulled out cell phone and cancelled all appointments, accept one, a certain lip to lip at home open door...
...And during that kiss, Ted held Tess tender tight till she giggled.
"Do you feel it?" Tess whispered in Ted ear.
"Love." Ted whispered back.
Tess eyes found Ted's. "Yes, our love bump." Tess tummy kicked his.
To get attention, you gotta give attention... to God, to his son Jesus, to each other... Love...
Proverbs 8:17 KJV "I love them that love me; and those that seek me early shall find me."
John 3:16 KJV, "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.
As far as the east is from the west, Psalm 103
In hie hurry stride Ted neared sidewalk trot, as he blast past Autumn Boutique, past Summers End Flowers, past Open Door Cafe... stopped, froze, ceased breath. He stepped backward to the open door of Open Door Cafe; took eternal breath. "There," breath rushed out, "in there, there I am."
Ted thread door, tread up to cafe table, pulled out chair, sat down, stared eye to eye narrow at coffee sipping Self.
Coffee mug met table top. "Do I know you?" Self smugly smiled.
Ted's noggin hurt. "What," was all he had, yet his mind raced on, almost spit out the obvious conclusion.
"No Ted, I am not your twin." Self's smile grew a tad.
"But how, why, who?" Ted be befuddled.
"I once lived in you," Self hoisted mug, "but now I am sitting cross table." Coffee steam arose, became one with inner nose.
"So you would have me believe that you are my, my conscience, and now this is your new thing?"
"Not new, more gradual. Gradually you pushed me out each time you had no time, each time you hurried out home door with Tess right there, waiting for the scent of kiss that wafted away."
"Who are you to criticize me? I don't even know you." Ted's own words hurt his head. Bewildered cry escaped Ted lips, "Jesus help."
In forgotten corner an antique, broken down, and unplugged jukebox whirled to life, lit up rainbow bright, set up record, played a knowing tune of knowing light, "As far as the east is from the west, that's how far love is..."
Ted turned attention back cross table. Through swirl of steam from lone coffee mug, he beheld empty chair.
Ted pulled out cell phone and cancelled all appointments, accept one, a certain lip to lip at home open door...
...And during that kiss, Ted held Tess tender tight till she giggled.
"Do you feel it?" Tess whispered in Ted ear.
"Love." Ted whispered back.
Tess eyes found Ted's. "Yes, our love bump." Tess tummy kicked his.
To get attention, you gotta give attention... to God, to his son Jesus, to each other... Love...
Proverbs 8:17 KJV "I love them that love me; and those that seek me early shall find me."
John 3:16 KJV, "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.
As far as the east is from the west, Psalm 103
Saturday, September 15, 2018
HYGGE
"Hygge," puffed joyful purr, neath plush nest of comforter.
Head popped out. Right arm followed, stretched bove unkempt sun lit auburn hair. Eyes squinched tight, Tess yawn trailed off into nother purr, the near succumbing to nether cover. Her arm collapsed... right across face of fellow nestee.
"Owwee," Ted head complained, pushed Tess arm from lips and nose.
"Not owwee, hygge," Tess stretched again, plopped arm back into place atop Ted face.
"Whut?" Ted lips mumbled neath Tess elbow.
"Hygge," Tess struggled to open eyes, "to us tourists pronounced as if it were spelled hue-guh." She shifted to snuggle, turned toward Ted, somehow replaced right elbow with left armpit astraddle Ted nose. Tess slipped into snore.
Ted just wished he could breathe, pulled nose from armpit to atop Tess shoulder, took breath, squeaked, "Bouquet of roses with undertone of hazel nut, or as in this case, Tess nut." He chuckled, kissed Tess shoulder.
Eyes sleepy slits,Tess snuggled closer, purred, "Hygge," started to snuggle even closer, eyes popped wide, "Road trip!"
"But we are newlyweds," Ted whimpered, teased, "More warm hygge snuggles, less trip?"
"Oft soft dreams of night mirror... tucked away kisses of day..." Tess eyes danced.
"Well," Ted smiled, "if its an ice cream run, I'm in."
"Ice cream in Iceland?" Tess eyes reflected chocolate vanilla swirl in hygge a twirl.
"Well, we best get dressed. Although, "Ted lifted brow, "it is early June in Iceland. What hour of the twenty-one hours of sunlight is it and what is the weather up to?"
Ted strode to cabin door, opened, "Snowing, in June, but it's not sticking, but it is wet and chilly. So let the routine multi-layer Icelandic dressing begin."
Content neath warm covers, Tess watched her brand new husband meticulously lay out his and hers clothing on edge of bed.
Twenty minutes later, "Let's see, for our tops," Ted ran through checklist, "we have thermal non-cotton long sleeve under shirts, check; loose lambs wool sweaters, check; thick water repellent coats with hood, check; and lamb fleece head warmers, check. For our bottoms we got thermal non-cotton layer, check; non-cotton active pants, check; and outer layer rain proof pants, check. For feet we got thick wool socks, lamb of course, check; and insulated waterproof hiking boots, check. For hands we have warm gloves with outer waterproof shell and lambs wool liners, check. And of course the mandatory sun glasses for my Tess' pretty almond eyes."
Head propped up by hand and elbow, with lifted brow Tess voiced concern, "Which part of his obsessive compulsive disorder did my new hubby forget to tell me about and what's up with this non-cotton obsession?"
"Cotton kills!" Ted offhandedly replied, while surveying job well done.
"Cotton kills?" Tess eyes strained wide. "You suffer a cotton phobia too!"
"Naw," Ted smirked, "it is an old Icelandic adage belaying the fact that air pockets in cotton fabric fill up with sweat like a sponge and hold it. To stay warm clothing must trap air near the skin and wick away water."
"So you are not the least bit nuerotic?" Tess teased.
"Not at all." Ted eyed undershirt, smoothed out wrinkle. "Oh my, now I've got to go back over the entire checklist."
"What!" Tess mouth did not close.
Ted busted out laughing. Tess clobbered him with pillow. The giggling began. Those neatly arranged clothes got a few new wrinkles, til Tess pinned Ted down, demanded, "Road trip!"
Minutes later a sunglasses and multi-layer clad Tess and Ted paused just outside cabin door in the drifting down snow, and said this little prayer, "Thank you Father above for this beautiful hygge day. Help us be blessings all along the way, in Jesus name." And the newlywed Tess smiled and sighed, "So now we even pray in unison?"
And so on the way in that Volvo AWD the radio sang, "A leidinni aftur..."
"Now that's a lively tune," Tess giggled, "but I can only imagine what the lady is singing."
"A leidinni aftur," Ted flawlessly pronounced.
"So now Mr. Cotton Phobia speaks Icelandic? Because if you do, that is another OCD red flag, check." She only half kidded.
"A leidinni aftur means: on the way return," Ted matter of facted.
"I repeat, so now you speak Icelandic?"
"Well, no," Ted sorta wondered himself, "although why am I understanding every single word of this song on the radio? A leidinni aftur... on the way return."
Then in sync Tess and Ted felt the gentle and familiar warmth of Jesus' smile, and their mission for the day to share Christian joy all along the way, in that oh so very icy, icy Iceland.
Thus it came to pass in a certain grand ice cream parlor, that in line awaiting for ice cream order taking, the bouncy giggly, snuggly kissy newlyweds caught attention of every native and tourist; so every eye did see and their hearts infected be, by that old hygge. And soon round tiny parlor table Tess and Ted sat down, gathered hands together round snowy ice cream sundae peaked with chocolate cherry drizzle, and lifted up thanksgiving: "A leidinni aftur... on the way return, for our Jesus saith, 'I am the 'way', the truth, and the life; no person cometh unto the Father, but by me.' A leidinni aftur... on the way return..."
And every foreign and native ear did understand and hear, that their lips breathe and bear, "Amen."
And later that evening, returned to cozy cabin, after a hygge a wonder kind a day, midst warm comforter nest, twixt passionate embrace, Tess purred in Ted ear, "Oft soft dreams of night mirror... tucked away kisses of day."
To feel Jesus' smile: study his word, fellowship in his church, pray in his name, love God and love one another...
John 14:6... Johannes 14:6...
Wednesday, August 15, 2018
SUNSHINE AFTER RAIN
"I just can't take it any more! Where did all the flowers go?" Exasperated by her own flower garden ineptitude, Jena Scarsbury cried out across backyard fence to her neighborette.
At the end of water hose, Rosie Mai Chi grinned, sprayed prize tulips with streamlettes cool and clear. "That too bad, Jena," Rosie kidded, "maybe you have better luck with cactus." She giggled.
"It's not fair!" Jena fired back, "You guru worshipin' Chinese come over here and foreign idol up America, fill our roads with pint sized cars and fill our minds with inferiority. And what do you get for it? You get rewarded for it, that's what! I can't take it anymore!"
"Jena, Jena, you not know gurus from India, pint sized cars Korean and Japanese the smart ones?" Smiling, Rosie shook head, turned spray on thirsty bed of posies.
"See that is exactly what I mean: you people are inscrutable," Jena groaned.
"You crazy mix-up American, nice try to get my goat, you know husband and I are Christian missionaries to here. You guys need Jesus. And you wonder where did flowers go! You silly." Rosie smiled.
Suddenly, as if heaven sent, bright sunlight and rain cascaded down... Jena scrambled to shelter neath covered patio. She turned to search for her favorite neighborette and sparring partner. Jena hollered loud above the rain on tin, "Who is crazy now? I am not the one standing in the rain!"
And there Rosie stood amid the garden, smiling, watching, rhythmically nodding along with the dance of her kindred roses, flowers and ferns as they bent and leaped... neath the weight of sunlit rain... then Rosie breathed his name... "Jesus..."
In his last words, the man after God's own heart, King David spoke of the coming of Jesus: 2nd Samuel 23:4 Living Bible, "He shall be as the light of morning, a cloudless sunrise, when the tender grass springs forth upon the earth, as sunshine after rain."
Post script: "The Little Miracle":
In the story after Rosie declared, "You silly," the writing ended with no foreseen way to connect it with the chosen scripture nor the title, "Sunshine After Rain." So I prayed. Then the thought struck me that perhaps Rosie's accent was a tad too stereotypical. So I figured why not give her a third generation Chinese from Copenhagen Danish accent. Like that would work? But there I went. I was stuck anyway; so I Google Danish accent, right! Well there she is, the stereotypical little Danish girl answering questions on how to say phrases in English with a Danish accent. And so someone types in and she repeats the question in her natural accent, "What do they call it when the rain falls when the sun is shining?" She giggles, pans camera to window and says, "It actually does right now..." And there is the sunlit rain falling in the beautiful garden just outside her window. And she says, "It is coming a rainbow..." John 20:15-16...
At the end of water hose, Rosie Mai Chi grinned, sprayed prize tulips with streamlettes cool and clear. "That too bad, Jena," Rosie kidded, "maybe you have better luck with cactus." She giggled.
"It's not fair!" Jena fired back, "You guru worshipin' Chinese come over here and foreign idol up America, fill our roads with pint sized cars and fill our minds with inferiority. And what do you get for it? You get rewarded for it, that's what! I can't take it anymore!"
"Jena, Jena, you not know gurus from India, pint sized cars Korean and Japanese the smart ones?" Smiling, Rosie shook head, turned spray on thirsty bed of posies.
"See that is exactly what I mean: you people are inscrutable," Jena groaned.
"You crazy mix-up American, nice try to get my goat, you know husband and I are Christian missionaries to here. You guys need Jesus. And you wonder where did flowers go! You silly." Rosie smiled.
Suddenly, as if heaven sent, bright sunlight and rain cascaded down... Jena scrambled to shelter neath covered patio. She turned to search for her favorite neighborette and sparring partner. Jena hollered loud above the rain on tin, "Who is crazy now? I am not the one standing in the rain!"
And there Rosie stood amid the garden, smiling, watching, rhythmically nodding along with the dance of her kindred roses, flowers and ferns as they bent and leaped... neath the weight of sunlit rain... then Rosie breathed his name... "Jesus..."
In his last words, the man after God's own heart, King David spoke of the coming of Jesus: 2nd Samuel 23:4 Living Bible, "He shall be as the light of morning, a cloudless sunrise, when the tender grass springs forth upon the earth, as sunshine after rain."
Post script: "The Little Miracle":
In the story after Rosie declared, "You silly," the writing ended with no foreseen way to connect it with the chosen scripture nor the title, "Sunshine After Rain." So I prayed. Then the thought struck me that perhaps Rosie's accent was a tad too stereotypical. So I figured why not give her a third generation Chinese from Copenhagen Danish accent. Like that would work? But there I went. I was stuck anyway; so I Google Danish accent, right! Well there she is, the stereotypical little Danish girl answering questions on how to say phrases in English with a Danish accent. And so someone types in and she repeats the question in her natural accent, "What do they call it when the rain falls when the sun is shining?" She giggles, pans camera to window and says, "It actually does right now..." And there is the sunlit rain falling in the beautiful garden just outside her window. And she says, "It is coming a rainbow..." John 20:15-16...
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
THE WINK
Tess wink shouted conspiracy. The flip of her sun kissed auburn hair sang I don't care. Both hitched glitch to over the table negotiations; and as her eyes locked into Ted's, her left hand inched closer to last slice of Galactic Pizza Palace pizza.
Ted winked right back.
Tess blinked. "You know I am only doing this for your own good, saving you from indigestion, heart burn, even flabbier love handles."
Ted winked again.
"You didn't! Did I just see the unmistakable eye nod of innuendo, the hint of insinuation, veiled reflection, perhaps oblique allusion, or even more the wink of retaliatory shenanigan?" Tess huffed.
"Just flirting, Hon." Ted eyes had grown wide with, "Let me outta here! Women are crazy."
Tess arose from seat. One hand on hip, one behind back, she rounded table, stood over and glared down at him, slid arm round his neck, plopped in Ted lap, cooed, "Ahh, the conspiracy... of love." Tess lips met his.
Ted's right arm and hand hugged her to him, while left hand searched table top for last gasp grasp of...
"Looking for this, pizza breath?" Tess teased, waved last chance for peace, piece a pizza, before Ted a hungered eyes. "Do you smell it? Smell the," Tess took whiff, "savor that aged parmesan atop pepperoni, mozzarella and marinara on that fresh baked crust?"
Ted tummy gurgled.
Tess nibbled a bite. Her eyelashes fluttered delight.
Ted whimpered. Lower lip trembled.
With pizza aromaficated breath Tess kissed that lip a tremble. Then Tess eyes to Ted eyes shined love, as she shared with hubby last rites bites of Galactic Pizza Palace pizza.
Ted mumbled through mouthful chew, "Tess, you are my Queen of the Wink."
More than a blink tis the wink. By the nod of the eye what we see is not always what we get. For many be the signals beamed by curtain drawn eye: conspiracy, innuendo, insinuation, retaliation, even scorn; or perhaps playful shenanigan, flirting, teasing, favor, the yes of agreement, good point acknowledgement... or even I saw what you did.
Like pizza, like most things people eat, the wink can be good or bad. Depends on how used, the amount consumed, the motivation behind it, and most of all how God weighs it. Just remember: God sees it all...
Proverbs 15:3 KJV, "The eyes of the LORD are in every place, beholding the evil and the good."
Maybe acting in love is a good idea...
Ted winked right back.
Tess blinked. "You know I am only doing this for your own good, saving you from indigestion, heart burn, even flabbier love handles."
Ted winked again.
"You didn't! Did I just see the unmistakable eye nod of innuendo, the hint of insinuation, veiled reflection, perhaps oblique allusion, or even more the wink of retaliatory shenanigan?" Tess huffed.
"Just flirting, Hon." Ted eyes had grown wide with, "Let me outta here! Women are crazy."
Tess arose from seat. One hand on hip, one behind back, she rounded table, stood over and glared down at him, slid arm round his neck, plopped in Ted lap, cooed, "Ahh, the conspiracy... of love." Tess lips met his.
Ted's right arm and hand hugged her to him, while left hand searched table top for last gasp grasp of...
"Looking for this, pizza breath?" Tess teased, waved last chance for peace, piece a pizza, before Ted a hungered eyes. "Do you smell it? Smell the," Tess took whiff, "savor that aged parmesan atop pepperoni, mozzarella and marinara on that fresh baked crust?"
Ted tummy gurgled.
Tess nibbled a bite. Her eyelashes fluttered delight.
Ted whimpered. Lower lip trembled.
With pizza aromaficated breath Tess kissed that lip a tremble. Then Tess eyes to Ted eyes shined love, as she shared with hubby last rites bites of Galactic Pizza Palace pizza.
Ted mumbled through mouthful chew, "Tess, you are my Queen of the Wink."
More than a blink tis the wink. By the nod of the eye what we see is not always what we get. For many be the signals beamed by curtain drawn eye: conspiracy, innuendo, insinuation, retaliation, even scorn; or perhaps playful shenanigan, flirting, teasing, favor, the yes of agreement, good point acknowledgement... or even I saw what you did.
Like pizza, like most things people eat, the wink can be good or bad. Depends on how used, the amount consumed, the motivation behind it, and most of all how God weighs it. Just remember: God sees it all...
Proverbs 15:3 KJV, "The eyes of the LORD are in every place, beholding the evil and the good."
Maybe acting in love is a good idea...
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
HAIKU
Haiku
Mighty Prince
Haiku
Paddle canoe
Mighty Prince
Haiku
Paddle canoe
Thru sunset
Kissed milieu
Away Haiku
Away
Waters way
Haiku
Romans 12:15
Kissed milieu
Away Haiku
Away
Waters way
Haiku
Romans 12:15
Sunday, April 8, 2018
FISHIN' IN THE AMEN RIVER
Not all appears as it seems in the hill country streams. For in the burning Texas heat how can cypress, cedar and oak grow so green long the dry bone rocks and sandstone slabs of the Amen River bed? But just as the Amen River twists round every foot of hill, so does that hidden; for sometimes a few feet below rock, sometimes only inches, fresh running water runs, and often, so very often just round the next bend lays an open pool of living water.
And round one such foot of hill, at a certain upper pool, on a large flat stone sat one Miss Faith Ann McTurity with fishin' pole in hand. O' so still Faith sat with brown eyes not blinking. He was there. There below. There also with unblinking eyes. Not moving. Contemplating eating. In a snap the worm was his. Unfortunately for him so was the hook Mr. Perch took. To the surface Perch got jerked. And no matter how Mr. Perch flipped and he flapped, that hook to erase, he could not erase the smile of Faith Ann McTurity.
Fish full stringer swayed from that old cane pole on the shoulder of Faith, as she walked round the bend of the Amen River toward her tiny hamlet called Amen Corner. And Faith sang, "One less fish in the Amen River; one more dish we can set for dinner. God bless the Amen River..."
For you see... Miss Faith Ann McTurity lacked not faith and maturity...
...Where Faith meets Knowing...
...The Amen River...
Hebrews 11:1&3; Isaiah 32:2&3, 43:19; John 7:38
Mathew 18:3&4, 21:16
Jesus the Rock from which the Living River flows...
1st Corinthians 10:4 & Numbers 20:8 KJ
.
And round one such foot of hill, at a certain upper pool, on a large flat stone sat one Miss Faith Ann McTurity with fishin' pole in hand. O' so still Faith sat with brown eyes not blinking. He was there. There below. There also with unblinking eyes. Not moving. Contemplating eating. In a snap the worm was his. Unfortunately for him so was the hook Mr. Perch took. To the surface Perch got jerked. And no matter how Mr. Perch flipped and he flapped, that hook to erase, he could not erase the smile of Faith Ann McTurity.
Fish full stringer swayed from that old cane pole on the shoulder of Faith, as she walked round the bend of the Amen River toward her tiny hamlet called Amen Corner. And Faith sang, "One less fish in the Amen River; one more dish we can set for dinner. God bless the Amen River..."
For you see... Miss Faith Ann McTurity lacked not faith and maturity...
...Where Faith meets Knowing...
...The Amen River...
Hebrews 11:1&3; Isaiah 32:2&3, 43:19; John 7:38
Mathew 18:3&4, 21:16
Jesus the Rock from which the Living River flows...
1st Corinthians 10:4 & Numbers 20:8 KJ
.
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
NUT GRASS
"Ever wonder how far is away?" Tess yawned, uprooted yet another sprig of nut grass from the garden.
"Often does the way remind, before the shadow shines the light." Grunt punctuated Ted response, while pulling yet another long rooted weed that he knew not the name of. Ted glanced over at Tess, his eyes lingered there, and he thought, "Even in the late afternoon heat, even in dirt infused sweats, even with garden soil on the tip of freckled nose neath brim of cap, my Tess rocks that strawberry blond hair and pale blue eyes."
Like all intuition imbued women when being watched, Tess wiped speck from nose, looked up, smiled, "Less admiration, more weed pulling, ol' man." Her smile grew as she resumed nut grass war.
But a curious Ted could not help but wonder at a certain Tess brand of peculiar behavior. "Mind if I ask why you are separating the nut grass into two separate pots?"
"Horchata de chufa." Tess extracted yet nother nut grass sprig out of the garden.
"Horchata de what-a?" Familiar female voice chimed in from edge of garden.
Tess and Ted smiled at each other, chimed together, "Good morning Barrett." They looked up to see husband Grinn at her side, both wearing their signature line of Grinn & Barrett khaki knickers and tees.
"How are our neighbor clothing moguls this glorious and blessed morning?" Tess extended greeting.
"Now Tess, you know we love you, but," Grinn grinned, "but when you start slinging round words like glorious and blessed, you usually slip into that irritating witnessing for Jesus stuff."
Barrett elbowed hubby.
"Owww!" Grinn rubbed ribs.
"Don't be rude, Grinn. Tess only witnesses to you cause she loves you. Besides, you need to listen." Barrett returned attention to Tess, "Anyhow, what is this horchata de what-a you mentioned earlier?"
"Horchata de chufa is a delicious icy drink made by mixing water with a ground blend of select nut grass nutlets, rice, sugar, cinnamon, vanilla and tad a nutmeg." Tess blinked those pale blues appretiatively up at Barrett.
"Oh sweet deja vu," Ted eyes lit up, "that's what that creamy white drink was the other day. Fresh n cold right out a the fridge and putting the yeeeeeee back in my haaaaaaa! Tasty E-N-E-R-G-Y!"
"More like ick, nut grass!" Grinn grinned.
"Too proud and stuck in your ways to try something new, no matter how tasty and good for you it is?" Barrett hugged Grinn arm.
Grinn barely noticed the ebb in time... as lightning filled the east and shined even throughout the west, but Tess and Ted knew, knew the Beginning and the End, the Alpha and the Omega, He was here... then they were there... in the clouds with Jesus...
At the edge of the garden Grinn sank to his knees alone... no Barrett hugging his arm...
Matthew 24:27 (Jesus)
"Often does the way remind, before the shadow shines the light." Grunt punctuated Ted response, while pulling yet another long rooted weed that he knew not the name of. Ted glanced over at Tess, his eyes lingered there, and he thought, "Even in the late afternoon heat, even in dirt infused sweats, even with garden soil on the tip of freckled nose neath brim of cap, my Tess rocks that strawberry blond hair and pale blue eyes."
Like all intuition imbued women when being watched, Tess wiped speck from nose, looked up, smiled, "Less admiration, more weed pulling, ol' man." Her smile grew as she resumed nut grass war.
But a curious Ted could not help but wonder at a certain Tess brand of peculiar behavior. "Mind if I ask why you are separating the nut grass into two separate pots?"
"Horchata de chufa." Tess extracted yet nother nut grass sprig out of the garden.
"Horchata de what-a?" Familiar female voice chimed in from edge of garden.
Tess and Ted smiled at each other, chimed together, "Good morning Barrett." They looked up to see husband Grinn at her side, both wearing their signature line of Grinn & Barrett khaki knickers and tees.
"How are our neighbor clothing moguls this glorious and blessed morning?" Tess extended greeting.
"Now Tess, you know we love you, but," Grinn grinned, "but when you start slinging round words like glorious and blessed, you usually slip into that irritating witnessing for Jesus stuff."
Barrett elbowed hubby.
"Owww!" Grinn rubbed ribs.
"Don't be rude, Grinn. Tess only witnesses to you cause she loves you. Besides, you need to listen." Barrett returned attention to Tess, "Anyhow, what is this horchata de what-a you mentioned earlier?"
"Horchata de chufa is a delicious icy drink made by mixing water with a ground blend of select nut grass nutlets, rice, sugar, cinnamon, vanilla and tad a nutmeg." Tess blinked those pale blues appretiatively up at Barrett.
"Oh sweet deja vu," Ted eyes lit up, "that's what that creamy white drink was the other day. Fresh n cold right out a the fridge and putting the yeeeeeee back in my haaaaaaa! Tasty E-N-E-R-G-Y!"
"More like ick, nut grass!" Grinn grinned.
"Too proud and stuck in your ways to try something new, no matter how tasty and good for you it is?" Barrett hugged Grinn arm.
Grinn barely noticed the ebb in time... as lightning filled the east and shined even throughout the west, but Tess and Ted knew, knew the Beginning and the End, the Alpha and the Omega, He was here... then they were there... in the clouds with Jesus...
At the edge of the garden Grinn sank to his knees alone... no Barrett hugging his arm...
Matthew 24:27 (Jesus)
Matthew 25:13 (urgency)
1st Thessalonians 4:15-18 (the rapture: "caught up together" in the clouds with Jesus...)
John 4:35
John 3:16 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.
Romans 6:23; 5:8; 10:9 & 13 (The most wonderful of news... salvation.)
Jesus loves You! Love him right back.
Sunday, February 4, 2018
FROG IN THE FOG
FROG IN THE FOG
"Wake up, Larry," Karen whispered, "Someone is at our window."
"Ugh,"was followed by Larry roll over.
"Larry," Karen shook him, "Larry, go see what it is."
Larry let out mid nightmare moan.
The unseen thumped window screen.
"Get up!" Karen pinched his posterior.
"Mommy!" Larry screamed, "Tha crabs are eating me!"
"I'm not your Mommy! I am wife, scared wife. Someone is breaking into our bedroom window," Karen huffed.
"What?" Larry raised head, rubbed rear, listened.
Thump! "Brrrrooookkke! Brrrrrrrooooookkke!"
"Its just a frog singing and catching mosquitoes," Larry yawned, crashed head back to pillow.
"No you don't. If it is, just a frog, how can I sleep with that green, that thing, ripping through the screen. Get up and get it away from me, or the crabs will eat Mommy's little boy!" Karen jabbed pincer.
"Okay already." In the dark Larry hung legs over mattress edge, stood, felt around on night stand for flashlight, knocked it off squarely onto little toe toenail. "Ou-ou-ou-ouch!" He whined.
"Quit goofing around, Larry!" Karen growled.
"Lord remind me why I love this woman." The thought accidentally found path to his lips.
"What!" Karen fumed.
"I'm going. I'm going." Larry stepped, the flashlight rolled under foot, Larry's legs flew up over his head, head hit floor, his lungs compressed. Silence...
"Larry?" Karen turned on reading lamp.
"Am I dead?" Larry gasped.
Thump went the window screen! "Brrrrrrrooooookkke!"
"Larry, paaa-lease get out there and do something!" Karen seethed through teeth.
Larry grabbed flashlight, crawled to feet and stomped out bedroom to front porch door. Unlocking, he muttered, "At least I can let Muffin back in; another thing I should-a already done." He opened the door. Not even the flashlight penetrated the night fog. "Great, just great," Larry complained. He flicked on the porch light. The fog reflected it back as blinding light. Larry turned it off. "I guess a little light from the flashlight is better than no light at all," he groaned.
Something rustled in the wife's flower garden off to the right of the porch and right under bedroom window. "No doubt Muffin is stalking the wife's nemesis as well," Larry deduced.
The frog in the fog thumped the window screen, again barked warning, "Brrrrrooookkke!"
The rustling under the window increased. Larry stepped off porch directly into potted begonias. Struggling to extract foot from pot, Larry spied the black and white silhouette of Muffin in the fog. "A stroke of good luck at last," Larry sighed, scooped up his precious kitty. He rose, brushed the frog in the fog off window screen and headed back in. "Victory at last." He praised self. "After all, finding a black and white cat in night fog is no small feat. So glad I found you little buddy." Larry hugged Muffin. Muffin hugged Larry's neck, rubbed soft furry cheek on his chin and began to purr. "Love you too little buddy," Larry added, "Let's go cheer up your Momma."
Triumphant and loved, Larry entered bedroom and strode up to mattress edge. "Say hi to Momma... Muffin..."
The volume of horror on Karen's face was only exceeded by the decibels of her scream...
It was then that the startled skunk began to spray...
Thump went the window screen... "Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooookkke!"
...What does the frog say...
...If it ain't brrrrrrooookkke, don't fix it...
...What a deep pit, burning lips dig...
...As the shrill voice reeks,so the skunk stinks...
...Why stir up trouble where there is none...
...Let singing frogs in the fog sing and catch mosquitoes like the LORD designed them to...
Proverbs 16:21 & 27; 10:14; 30:33 and Matthew 6:33-34
Like that old Pharaoh of ancient Egypt, as recorded in Exodus, focusing on the frog as an idol or as a plague is just misplaced focus. Focus on what matters, The Living God and his son Jesus...
"Wake up, Larry," Karen whispered, "Someone is at our window."
"Ugh,"was followed by Larry roll over.
"Larry," Karen shook him, "Larry, go see what it is."
Larry let out mid nightmare moan.
The unseen thumped window screen.
"Get up!" Karen pinched his posterior.
"Mommy!" Larry screamed, "Tha crabs are eating me!"
"I'm not your Mommy! I am wife, scared wife. Someone is breaking into our bedroom window," Karen huffed.
"What?" Larry raised head, rubbed rear, listened.
Thump! "Brrrrooookkke! Brrrrrrrooooookkke!"
"Its just a frog singing and catching mosquitoes," Larry yawned, crashed head back to pillow.
"No you don't. If it is, just a frog, how can I sleep with that green, that thing, ripping through the screen. Get up and get it away from me, or the crabs will eat Mommy's little boy!" Karen jabbed pincer.
"Okay already." In the dark Larry hung legs over mattress edge, stood, felt around on night stand for flashlight, knocked it off squarely onto little toe toenail. "Ou-ou-ou-ouch!" He whined.
"Quit goofing around, Larry!" Karen growled.
"Lord remind me why I love this woman." The thought accidentally found path to his lips.
"What!" Karen fumed.
"I'm going. I'm going." Larry stepped, the flashlight rolled under foot, Larry's legs flew up over his head, head hit floor, his lungs compressed. Silence...
"Larry?" Karen turned on reading lamp.
"Am I dead?" Larry gasped.
Thump went the window screen! "Brrrrrrrooooookkke!"
"Larry, paaa-lease get out there and do something!" Karen seethed through teeth.
Larry grabbed flashlight, crawled to feet and stomped out bedroom to front porch door. Unlocking, he muttered, "At least I can let Muffin back in; another thing I should-a already done." He opened the door. Not even the flashlight penetrated the night fog. "Great, just great," Larry complained. He flicked on the porch light. The fog reflected it back as blinding light. Larry turned it off. "I guess a little light from the flashlight is better than no light at all," he groaned.
Something rustled in the wife's flower garden off to the right of the porch and right under bedroom window. "No doubt Muffin is stalking the wife's nemesis as well," Larry deduced.
The frog in the fog thumped the window screen, again barked warning, "Brrrrrooookkke!"
The rustling under the window increased. Larry stepped off porch directly into potted begonias. Struggling to extract foot from pot, Larry spied the black and white silhouette of Muffin in the fog. "A stroke of good luck at last," Larry sighed, scooped up his precious kitty. He rose, brushed the frog in the fog off window screen and headed back in. "Victory at last." He praised self. "After all, finding a black and white cat in night fog is no small feat. So glad I found you little buddy." Larry hugged Muffin. Muffin hugged Larry's neck, rubbed soft furry cheek on his chin and began to purr. "Love you too little buddy," Larry added, "Let's go cheer up your Momma."
Triumphant and loved, Larry entered bedroom and strode up to mattress edge. "Say hi to Momma... Muffin..."
The volume of horror on Karen's face was only exceeded by the decibels of her scream...
It was then that the startled skunk began to spray...
Thump went the window screen... "Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooookkke!"
...What does the frog say...
...If it ain't brrrrrrooookkke, don't fix it...
...What a deep pit, burning lips dig...
...As the shrill voice reeks,so the skunk stinks...
...Why stir up trouble where there is none...
...Let singing frogs in the fog sing and catch mosquitoes like the LORD designed them to...
Proverbs 16:21 & 27; 10:14; 30:33 and Matthew 6:33-34
Like that old Pharaoh of ancient Egypt, as recorded in Exodus, focusing on the frog as an idol or as a plague is just misplaced focus. Focus on what matters, The Living God and his son Jesus...
Thursday, December 28, 2017
WATER O CHOCOLATE
When Boudreaux wed Apasionada, dim' folk dun' had one-a-dim' paardees'. Amid this fiesta-festival the marriage of zydeco and cumbia echoed through the Louisiana swamp. To de' pound of de' music and de' stomp of de' feets: de' fishes leaped, de' bull frogs bellered, de' gators clapped der' jaws, even the heart of the bayou waters did beat. Nine months later, little was the surprise, when one more excuse to celebrate arrived: the birth of brothers Pierre and Pedro. And the brothers two, oh how they grew, all the while living la vida loco. "No life without passion," they often proclaimed, "our undying motto."
And from the passion of the two that grew flowed a love of food. A love fulfilled in the twin's joint venture, The Chocolate Gator Grill, a cafe made famous by their signature entree: chocolate gator gumbo chili-mole'. They cooked; they flourished; no way could folks get enough of that chocolate gator gumbo chili-mole'...
Until one faithless day, national TV reporter/food critic, Creme Brule, into the blue bayou blew, to interview the chocolate toothed two. And with mike in hand Creme gestured about the cafe to ice cream display, to rows of cake, to piles of de' pie, and with an eye for the eerie she did droolingly query, "All chocolate! Everything, chocolate! What's up with that?"
With tear in the eye, Pierre did reply, "Ever since we was just little bitty babies down on the bayou, Ma Ma' Apasionada dun' us so guud'. I remember like today, we watch de' Ma Ma' boil dat' water for our hot chocolate."
"Si," Pedro patted the shoulder of his choked up brother, "Ma Ma' pass last year. But always before she go, she treat her boys a-alright. In dat' boiling water, chunk after chunk of rich dark chocolate find home. She add one ton cane sugar and boat load cream on top. To us dat' hot, hot chocolate mean no limit of love."
No limit viral that interview got viewed. Viral twas the love of the public for the two with no Ma Ma' and a legacy of chocolate. Besides, the food was "A-alright," as Pierre often said, "beyond some-none-a-tall." Thus a new wave of rave swept the nation. And on TV The Chocolate Gator Grill became the number one cooking show sensation.
The intro to the show became cult classic: "Bonjour!" In sync the brothers chimed. Then the twins introduced each other: "My brother right here with the hangy moss chin and head o' hair be Pierre. And my brother right here with the hangy moss chin and head o' hair be Pedro." In sync again, "And we brothers dun' be right here to chocolate you up!" Could TV fare sink any lower...
Well... One faithless day two flat bottom boats down the bayou did float. With camera crew in tow, reporter Creme Brule shadowed Pierre and Pedro into the swamp to reap the meaty ingredient for their chocolate gator gumbo chili-mole. Pierre cast baited tri-hook into dark waters. Pierre retrieved the line, till no more it did went; then slowly pulled the boat toward the end of the line. All stopped at that sunk tri-hook. Pedro readied dat' bat for the gator's head to splat. He peered over the side. With one big swoosh the mother of all gators Pedro dun' took... Red boiled the blood of Pedro in bayou chocolate...
After that moment tragic, and back on shore, "We should-a known some kind-a better!!!" Pierre into the camera did squall. "Too hot, too hot dat' dark water o' chocolate! O' Ma Ma', what have you dun' dun' to you boys! You should-a warn us! Gotta be careful or de' food dun' eat you!!!"
In the eye of camera, the bayou waters, that dark chocolate, framed the figure of Creme Brule. Into the mike Creme no words better than her tears did speak... Till in mid weep Creme cried, cried out, "Obsession stinks!!"
...Boiling hot chocolate burns...
...I guar-raun-tee...
Postscript:
Jeremiah 17:9 KJ, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?"
In a heart without Jesus, passion mutates to obsession. When passion becomes idol, obsession consumes. So does in the pot on top of Ma Ma's stove, the hot chocolate grow; grow to the boiling chocolate waters of the whole bayou. Chocolate makes a delicious drink, but if you drink it at boiling temp, you get burned. Passion requires direction and limits. Passion needs the correct temperature before it is drank. Who among us as a child has not burned the lips and tip of the tongue with too hot, hot chocolate.
...Listen to the LORD, drink from the brook the living waters of Jesus...
...Drink not of the dark bayou of this world...
And from the passion of the two that grew flowed a love of food. A love fulfilled in the twin's joint venture, The Chocolate Gator Grill, a cafe made famous by their signature entree: chocolate gator gumbo chili-mole'. They cooked; they flourished; no way could folks get enough of that chocolate gator gumbo chili-mole'...
Until one faithless day, national TV reporter/food critic, Creme Brule, into the blue bayou blew, to interview the chocolate toothed two. And with mike in hand Creme gestured about the cafe to ice cream display, to rows of cake, to piles of de' pie, and with an eye for the eerie she did droolingly query, "All chocolate! Everything, chocolate! What's up with that?"
With tear in the eye, Pierre did reply, "Ever since we was just little bitty babies down on the bayou, Ma Ma' Apasionada dun' us so guud'. I remember like today, we watch de' Ma Ma' boil dat' water for our hot chocolate."
"Si," Pedro patted the shoulder of his choked up brother, "Ma Ma' pass last year. But always before she go, she treat her boys a-alright. In dat' boiling water, chunk after chunk of rich dark chocolate find home. She add one ton cane sugar and boat load cream on top. To us dat' hot, hot chocolate mean no limit of love."
No limit viral that interview got viewed. Viral twas the love of the public for the two with no Ma Ma' and a legacy of chocolate. Besides, the food was "A-alright," as Pierre often said, "beyond some-none-a-tall." Thus a new wave of rave swept the nation. And on TV The Chocolate Gator Grill became the number one cooking show sensation.
The intro to the show became cult classic: "Bonjour!" In sync the brothers chimed. Then the twins introduced each other: "My brother right here with the hangy moss chin and head o' hair be Pierre. And my brother right here with the hangy moss chin and head o' hair be Pedro." In sync again, "And we brothers dun' be right here to chocolate you up!" Could TV fare sink any lower...
Well... One faithless day two flat bottom boats down the bayou did float. With camera crew in tow, reporter Creme Brule shadowed Pierre and Pedro into the swamp to reap the meaty ingredient for their chocolate gator gumbo chili-mole. Pierre cast baited tri-hook into dark waters. Pierre retrieved the line, till no more it did went; then slowly pulled the boat toward the end of the line. All stopped at that sunk tri-hook. Pedro readied dat' bat for the gator's head to splat. He peered over the side. With one big swoosh the mother of all gators Pedro dun' took... Red boiled the blood of Pedro in bayou chocolate...
After that moment tragic, and back on shore, "We should-a known some kind-a better!!!" Pierre into the camera did squall. "Too hot, too hot dat' dark water o' chocolate! O' Ma Ma', what have you dun' dun' to you boys! You should-a warn us! Gotta be careful or de' food dun' eat you!!!"
In the eye of camera, the bayou waters, that dark chocolate, framed the figure of Creme Brule. Into the mike Creme no words better than her tears did speak... Till in mid weep Creme cried, cried out, "Obsession stinks!!"
...Boiling hot chocolate burns...
...I guar-raun-tee...
Postscript:
Jeremiah 17:9 KJ, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?"
In a heart without Jesus, passion mutates to obsession. When passion becomes idol, obsession consumes. So does in the pot on top of Ma Ma's stove, the hot chocolate grow; grow to the boiling chocolate waters of the whole bayou. Chocolate makes a delicious drink, but if you drink it at boiling temp, you get burned. Passion requires direction and limits. Passion needs the correct temperature before it is drank. Who among us as a child has not burned the lips and tip of the tongue with too hot, hot chocolate.
...Listen to the LORD, drink from the brook the living waters of Jesus...
...Drink not of the dark bayou of this world...
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
ARBORIE ARDOUR
"Abhory leech lips Arborie!" So burned the echo of time in the mind of Arborie Ardour.
And so, oh my how so, was the love of Arborie Ardour beyond passion for little George. Without name he had sprouted into the world, till young lady Arborie fell in love at first sight, dubbed him George, plucked him up from greenhouse nursery, adopted him as her own little loblolly sapling, planted him a few feet from backyard fence. But alas all this was tad more than bit sad; for Arborie had long wanted, planned her first child to be a little George, but perceived herself too ugly to ever kiss a man. Had not the children of school bullied her, tormented her, crushed her with cruel chant, "Abhory leech lips Arborie?" So all the more was the love of Arborie Ardour beyond passion for her sapling son, little George.
Where she had planted little George? Arborie owned half that rocky hill overlooking Valley Lake. It was a hill whose only level ground was perfect, possessed just enough room for two Tudor style cottages. The gabled cottage of Arborie Ardour was brick with native sandstone accent, while gabled cottage of neighbor Heath Schrub was native sandstone with brick accent. They had purchased the homes within months of each other. Now near twenty years later there they were... still there. Why had they stayed? Over the years both had better job offers, enticing salaries and perks to relocate. And though they lived next lake, neither fished, neither sailed, neither swam, only loved the view, the view of Valley Lake?
So did little George grow near that backyard fence, till one huge loblolly limb shaded also Heath's patio, a patio joined by vine arbor gate to garden of favorite and only neighbor. And as most days, there they sat on floral pads of white wicker bench, enjoying lake breeze of early evening.
"Arb," Heath paused, gathered glass from wicker table, took iced sweet tea sip, repeated pet name for Arborie, "Arb, you are one beautiful lady."
Sweet tea sip past Arb lips. Her long fingers touched slender throat, felt the sweetness flowing down. She smiled. "Heath, if I didn't know better, I'd say that tea is getting you tingly in all the wrong places." She near giggled, felt tad of tingle too. "But I see old stick figure big lips me in the mirror every morning," she fished with allure for further compliment.
Genuine reflection rippled the pale face of Heath from receding hairline to brow, past nose to mouth, "When you first moved in next door you were cute, yet a little lean; but over the years I've seen..." Heath stopped, looked away to Valley Lake below, then turned head to face her, "but over the years I've seen that stem figure blossom to match your full flower lips. I, ah..." Heath's courage fell short, for he'd said only in part, the needs of the heart.
Arb took nother sip of sweet tea, swallowed, and in shuddering breath uttered, "Yet, in all these years we have sat together on this garden bench, you have not put your arm around me?" She sat tea glass down on wicker table, ran fingers thru his belt loop, pulled herself close. She lay palm on his chest, moved other round his neck... planted kiss... her first kiss of a man... neath the shade of the once little George.
Oh what bliss, that long awaited kiss blessed by spring breeze caress. Till one too many puffs turned to huff, shook free dangling loblolly cone, one receding hairline to bean to the bone.
Heath hadn't thought kissing would be so painful. He ignored the trickle of wetness down forehead, to nose, then lips, till both tasted it, and together said, "Blood?"
No time to wipe the blood from her lips, she held Heath's face in both hands, saw pine cone tooth stuck in his receding hairline, instinctively plucked it out. "Oops!" Arb aired err; for she'd burst river dam. The flood of blood was on. Arb grabbed napkin from table and applied pressure to stop the bleeding. She stood up to get a better look, reapplied pressure, kidded, "I think you might live. Not all that falls from the sky is painless." Looking down at her patient, Arb smiled. She liked taking care of Heath. She giggled. She sighed. For Arb saw her own reflection in Heath's deep blue eyes.
Looking up into the chocolate almond eyes of Arb, Heath breathed, "Not all that falls from the sky is without purpose. For who rides his chariot of clouds; walks upon wings of wind; wears garment of light; stretches out starry curtain of night. Perhaps our Creator sent puff of breath thru his loblolly tree, to make pine cone his messenger be."
"And what is this message?" Arb asked, Arb smiled, as she tended the wound of his head.
"To get off this bench, and to get down on one knee." Heath did what he said. Heath reached in hip pocket, what was in velvet case was - no - locket.
"Thank you, Jesus," gushed from heart, past the full, oh my how so full, and beautiful rose lips of Arborie Ardour.
Many kisses... a wedding and one year later... little Georgette was born...
Sometimes more is loved than the view... the view of Valley Lake...
Psalms 104:1-5 & 8:1-9
Proverbs 3:11-13
Sometimes we need a pine cone to the head... to get on the right path to God's blessings...
And so, oh my how so, was the love of Arborie Ardour beyond passion for little George. Without name he had sprouted into the world, till young lady Arborie fell in love at first sight, dubbed him George, plucked him up from greenhouse nursery, adopted him as her own little loblolly sapling, planted him a few feet from backyard fence. But alas all this was tad more than bit sad; for Arborie had long wanted, planned her first child to be a little George, but perceived herself too ugly to ever kiss a man. Had not the children of school bullied her, tormented her, crushed her with cruel chant, "Abhory leech lips Arborie?" So all the more was the love of Arborie Ardour beyond passion for her sapling son, little George.
Where she had planted little George? Arborie owned half that rocky hill overlooking Valley Lake. It was a hill whose only level ground was perfect, possessed just enough room for two Tudor style cottages. The gabled cottage of Arborie Ardour was brick with native sandstone accent, while gabled cottage of neighbor Heath Schrub was native sandstone with brick accent. They had purchased the homes within months of each other. Now near twenty years later there they were... still there. Why had they stayed? Over the years both had better job offers, enticing salaries and perks to relocate. And though they lived next lake, neither fished, neither sailed, neither swam, only loved the view, the view of Valley Lake?
So did little George grow near that backyard fence, till one huge loblolly limb shaded also Heath's patio, a patio joined by vine arbor gate to garden of favorite and only neighbor. And as most days, there they sat on floral pads of white wicker bench, enjoying lake breeze of early evening.
"Arb," Heath paused, gathered glass from wicker table, took iced sweet tea sip, repeated pet name for Arborie, "Arb, you are one beautiful lady."
Sweet tea sip past Arb lips. Her long fingers touched slender throat, felt the sweetness flowing down. She smiled. "Heath, if I didn't know better, I'd say that tea is getting you tingly in all the wrong places." She near giggled, felt tad of tingle too. "But I see old stick figure big lips me in the mirror every morning," she fished with allure for further compliment.
Genuine reflection rippled the pale face of Heath from receding hairline to brow, past nose to mouth, "When you first moved in next door you were cute, yet a little lean; but over the years I've seen..." Heath stopped, looked away to Valley Lake below, then turned head to face her, "but over the years I've seen that stem figure blossom to match your full flower lips. I, ah..." Heath's courage fell short, for he'd said only in part, the needs of the heart.
Arb took nother sip of sweet tea, swallowed, and in shuddering breath uttered, "Yet, in all these years we have sat together on this garden bench, you have not put your arm around me?" She sat tea glass down on wicker table, ran fingers thru his belt loop, pulled herself close. She lay palm on his chest, moved other round his neck... planted kiss... her first kiss of a man... neath the shade of the once little George.
Oh what bliss, that long awaited kiss blessed by spring breeze caress. Till one too many puffs turned to huff, shook free dangling loblolly cone, one receding hairline to bean to the bone.
Heath hadn't thought kissing would be so painful. He ignored the trickle of wetness down forehead, to nose, then lips, till both tasted it, and together said, "Blood?"
No time to wipe the blood from her lips, she held Heath's face in both hands, saw pine cone tooth stuck in his receding hairline, instinctively plucked it out. "Oops!" Arb aired err; for she'd burst river dam. The flood of blood was on. Arb grabbed napkin from table and applied pressure to stop the bleeding. She stood up to get a better look, reapplied pressure, kidded, "I think you might live. Not all that falls from the sky is painless." Looking down at her patient, Arb smiled. She liked taking care of Heath. She giggled. She sighed. For Arb saw her own reflection in Heath's deep blue eyes.
Looking up into the chocolate almond eyes of Arb, Heath breathed, "Not all that falls from the sky is without purpose. For who rides his chariot of clouds; walks upon wings of wind; wears garment of light; stretches out starry curtain of night. Perhaps our Creator sent puff of breath thru his loblolly tree, to make pine cone his messenger be."
"And what is this message?" Arb asked, Arb smiled, as she tended the wound of his head.
"To get off this bench, and to get down on one knee." Heath did what he said. Heath reached in hip pocket, what was in velvet case was - no - locket.
"Thank you, Jesus," gushed from heart, past the full, oh my how so full, and beautiful rose lips of Arborie Ardour.
Many kisses... a wedding and one year later... little Georgette was born...
Sometimes more is loved than the view... the view of Valley Lake...
Psalms 104:1-5 & 8:1-9
Proverbs 3:11-13
Sometimes we need a pine cone to the head... to get on the right path to God's blessings...
Wednesday, September 6, 2017
EVERY PEACH HAS ITS PIT
I could have married into the Pedernales Falls Winery up river, but did I listen to Dad, no." Jana puffed at sweat soaked blond bangs, hefted bushel basket of peaches into the back of truck. "I could have married the rich lavender farmer down the east rapids, but did I listen to Mom, nope." The former Stonewall Peach Jamboree and Rodeo Queen grunted under the weight of yet another peach basket. "And did I listen to my best friend Amy to for sure not marry that poor peach farmer smack dab in the middle, nooooo!" That last basket did not hit the truck bed lightly.
"Be careful," Daryll warned," or my Tuetonic warrior princess will bruise the peaches." He loaded basket of peaches next to hers.
"Bruise the peaches? Bruise the peaches!" Jana unleashed arched right eyebrow in Viking berserker stare, grabbed and jerked Daryll off the ground into her arms.
In her zealous embrace the squished and squirming, boot dangling Daryll managed to squeak out, "You... are... bruising the peach."
"I'll bruise my peach if I want to," Jana matter of facted, gave Daryll one hard and long kiss. Daryll quit squirming. Jana sat him down on truck tail gate, had to steady him to keep him from falling over. "I see my peach is a bit fuzzy," Jana smiled at a kiss well done.
"Yeah," Daryll croaked, "passion and lack of oxygen will do that to a fella."
"Just exactly what are you saying, Daryll?" Jana's brain teetered on edge of... was that a compliment or a too often as usual Daryll dig? Affection or affliction hung in precarious balance.
"Precious Lady," fortunately Daryll's mood swing radar activated, "you take my breath away just like the day we first met."
"Fifth grade, what a calamity," Jana giggled, "you were out of breath alright. Those Beasley brothers were kinda kickin' the air out of your lungs for defending my honor."
"They should never have made fun of you for being so tall," Daryll frowned.
"And they shouldn't have skinned up my fuzzy little peach." Jana sat down beside him on tail gate. She took Daryll under arm, hugged him to her.
"Yep, once the scent of my blood stained my Tuetonic warrior princess' nostrils, you sorta lost it." Daryll glowed awe and admiration of his wife. "Was that a one or two week suspension Principal Haney gave you for whuppin' those two boys?"
"Just a week that never happened, cause when their dad, Mr. Beasley, got the truth out of them, he whupped them again." Jana reminisced.
"And the next day Mr. Beasley took them to school and told Principal Haney, then Haney whupped 'em the third time," Daryll slapped knee, chuckled, "but I guess its better, much better to be whupped now than eternally forever later. They did sorta straighten up after that, been good neighbors ever since."
"And we've been together ever since." Jana looked into the eyes of her man, leaned in, gave him kiss. "But we better get busy. These peaches are not going to load themselves," She sighed, stood, was about to lift her man from tail gate...
"Well looky here," Daryll smiled, "I think I might just see two truckloads of reinforcements driving through our orchard front gate. Kinda looks like our wealthy neighbors, that winery fella and lavender farmer you were lamenting about earlier."
"The Beasley brothers!" Jana retightened her pony tail, straitened her blouse. "You knew," Jana accused, "you knew they were coming, didn't cha, Daryll!"
"I'm a peach!" Daryll grinned, admitted, "All I did... was pray."
"Yeah, every peach has its pit." Jana arched that right eyebrow... just before she hugged him tight... and said, "That's why I married you, Daryll, because the heart of my little peach is the seed of Jesus."
In silence the Beasley brothers and their families gathered round Jana and Daryll. And as all, as one, gazed out upon the hills and hills and hills of ripe peach laden trees, Daryll quoted Jesus: "The harvest truly is great, but the laborers few: pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he send forth laborers into his harvest." (Luke 10:2 KJ)
"Be careful," Daryll warned," or my Tuetonic warrior princess will bruise the peaches." He loaded basket of peaches next to hers.
"Bruise the peaches? Bruise the peaches!" Jana unleashed arched right eyebrow in Viking berserker stare, grabbed and jerked Daryll off the ground into her arms.
In her zealous embrace the squished and squirming, boot dangling Daryll managed to squeak out, "You... are... bruising the peach."
"I'll bruise my peach if I want to," Jana matter of facted, gave Daryll one hard and long kiss. Daryll quit squirming. Jana sat him down on truck tail gate, had to steady him to keep him from falling over. "I see my peach is a bit fuzzy," Jana smiled at a kiss well done.
"Yeah," Daryll croaked, "passion and lack of oxygen will do that to a fella."
"Just exactly what are you saying, Daryll?" Jana's brain teetered on edge of... was that a compliment or a too often as usual Daryll dig? Affection or affliction hung in precarious balance.
"Precious Lady," fortunately Daryll's mood swing radar activated, "you take my breath away just like the day we first met."
"Fifth grade, what a calamity," Jana giggled, "you were out of breath alright. Those Beasley brothers were kinda kickin' the air out of your lungs for defending my honor."
"They should never have made fun of you for being so tall," Daryll frowned.
"And they shouldn't have skinned up my fuzzy little peach." Jana sat down beside him on tail gate. She took Daryll under arm, hugged him to her.
"Yep, once the scent of my blood stained my Tuetonic warrior princess' nostrils, you sorta lost it." Daryll glowed awe and admiration of his wife. "Was that a one or two week suspension Principal Haney gave you for whuppin' those two boys?"
"Just a week that never happened, cause when their dad, Mr. Beasley, got the truth out of them, he whupped them again." Jana reminisced.
"And the next day Mr. Beasley took them to school and told Principal Haney, then Haney whupped 'em the third time," Daryll slapped knee, chuckled, "but I guess its better, much better to be whupped now than eternally forever later. They did sorta straighten up after that, been good neighbors ever since."
"And we've been together ever since." Jana looked into the eyes of her man, leaned in, gave him kiss. "But we better get busy. These peaches are not going to load themselves," She sighed, stood, was about to lift her man from tail gate...
"Well looky here," Daryll smiled, "I think I might just see two truckloads of reinforcements driving through our orchard front gate. Kinda looks like our wealthy neighbors, that winery fella and lavender farmer you were lamenting about earlier."
"The Beasley brothers!" Jana retightened her pony tail, straitened her blouse. "You knew," Jana accused, "you knew they were coming, didn't cha, Daryll!"
"I'm a peach!" Daryll grinned, admitted, "All I did... was pray."
"Yeah, every peach has its pit." Jana arched that right eyebrow... just before she hugged him tight... and said, "That's why I married you, Daryll, because the heart of my little peach is the seed of Jesus."
In silence the Beasley brothers and their families gathered round Jana and Daryll. And as all, as one, gazed out upon the hills and hills and hills of ripe peach laden trees, Daryll quoted Jesus: "The harvest truly is great, but the laborers few: pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he send forth laborers into his harvest." (Luke 10:2 KJ)
Saturday, August 12, 2017
CHOCOLATE ARMADILLOS
Life at the Spice of Life Greeting Cards warehouse was anything but living for Bentley Wordsworthy. Driving the same old forklift day after day, year after year, of what would soon be over two decades of spiceless boredom had eroded the mind, if not the soul of Bentley. Bentley Wordsworthy, the dreamer who longed to be a coiner of phrases, even a bard of adages. If only he could get recognition from just one of the Spice of Life Greeting Card Editors.
But alas, Bentley Wordsworthy possessed no wordsmith flair. Seldom is a kind way of saying never did Bentley Wordsworthy surpass the rudimentary roses are red, violets are blue level of poetic expression. And worse, Bentley was the untalented failure of the Wordsworthy family, which included over two centuries of poets, authors, editors and publishing house masters. Indeed Bentley himself often sighed, "I'm the last and the dead end of the Wordsworthy clan. That's me, just being all a failure can be." Be...
Until one faithful day... the boredom bent mind of Bentley over indulged in an oft visited daydream. High through the sky, Bentley Wordsworthy did fly, super hero of the greeting card world. From his shoulders fluttered the cape of bard-dom and across his chest emanated the magnificent letter "A," standing for ADAGEMAN!! Actually the letter "A" should have been two letters, A.D., standing for ATTENTION DEFICITMAN. Driving a forklift laden with crates full of greeting cards is no time to dream, let alone fly around a corner a tad too sharp. From forklift seat ADAGEMAN stomped on the brake a bit too late. The crates on the forklift remained stable, but the mile high stack the forklift bumped into shook violently. Bentley's hardhat fell off as he craned neck back to see the last rock of the teetering crate on top. Bentley gasped, "Jesus, save me!!!" Down plummeted that faith guided missile right between the safety glass wearing eyes of Bentley...
"Is he dead?" asked foreman Fred.
No one wanted to know more than Bentley. So from the concrete floor, flat on his back, Bentley Wordsworthy opened his mouth and instantly breathed out greeting card gold, "Life is like a box of chocolate armadillos: all slippery, scratchy and none too happy about being dipped in molten chocolate."
Bentley wrote it down. Bentley turned it in to the editors of Spice of Life Greeting Cards. Bentley garnered a new gig. A coiner of phrases he had become. ADAGEMAN... MAN... MAN... AN... AN... N born! Yet, died...
For the Lord above had up-up-and away far greater heights for Bentley Wordsworthy to fly. Not only did Bentley live to master the seemingly absurd and funny side of greeting cards, but there were sympathy cards, get well cards, birthday, wedding, friendship, Mothers Day, Fathers Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas cards to compose. Indeed His favorite of all were scripturally inspired. Cards like: Better a hole in the sock; than a hole in the soul. Cards like: The flames of youth, the ashes of regret, the if only of what can never be... Jesus heals it all...
Yes, ADAGEMAN had died, but Bentley Wordsworthy reigned alive and well as the bard of Spice of Life Greeting Cards. He even authored a few novels. But in the life of Bentley, the waters of success never flooded over the banks of humbletude. "Don't be too proud;" Bentley would say, "the chocolate coating of riches does not a life make; for of faded wisps, once whirlwinds, the dust whispers without thirst." He more than often added, "The spice of life, the very essence of living: Love the LORD continually; share his love with all; enjoy his every gift. For who else can turn even a bump on the head into blessing."
Oh, and in the chair of the bard, the new fantasy of Bentley twas a job well done, driving a forklift...
(Mark 8:36; Isaiah 29:4) (James 1:17; Colossians 3:17) (Romans 10:13)
But alas, Bentley Wordsworthy possessed no wordsmith flair. Seldom is a kind way of saying never did Bentley Wordsworthy surpass the rudimentary roses are red, violets are blue level of poetic expression. And worse, Bentley was the untalented failure of the Wordsworthy family, which included over two centuries of poets, authors, editors and publishing house masters. Indeed Bentley himself often sighed, "I'm the last and the dead end of the Wordsworthy clan. That's me, just being all a failure can be." Be...
Until one faithful day... the boredom bent mind of Bentley over indulged in an oft visited daydream. High through the sky, Bentley Wordsworthy did fly, super hero of the greeting card world. From his shoulders fluttered the cape of bard-dom and across his chest emanated the magnificent letter "A," standing for ADAGEMAN!! Actually the letter "A" should have been two letters, A.D., standing for ATTENTION DEFICITMAN. Driving a forklift laden with crates full of greeting cards is no time to dream, let alone fly around a corner a tad too sharp. From forklift seat ADAGEMAN stomped on the brake a bit too late. The crates on the forklift remained stable, but the mile high stack the forklift bumped into shook violently. Bentley's hardhat fell off as he craned neck back to see the last rock of the teetering crate on top. Bentley gasped, "Jesus, save me!!!" Down plummeted that faith guided missile right between the safety glass wearing eyes of Bentley...
"Is he dead?" asked foreman Fred.
No one wanted to know more than Bentley. So from the concrete floor, flat on his back, Bentley Wordsworthy opened his mouth and instantly breathed out greeting card gold, "Life is like a box of chocolate armadillos: all slippery, scratchy and none too happy about being dipped in molten chocolate."
Bentley wrote it down. Bentley turned it in to the editors of Spice of Life Greeting Cards. Bentley garnered a new gig. A coiner of phrases he had become. ADAGEMAN... MAN... MAN... AN... AN... N born! Yet, died...
For the Lord above had up-up-and away far greater heights for Bentley Wordsworthy to fly. Not only did Bentley live to master the seemingly absurd and funny side of greeting cards, but there were sympathy cards, get well cards, birthday, wedding, friendship, Mothers Day, Fathers Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas cards to compose. Indeed His favorite of all were scripturally inspired. Cards like: Better a hole in the sock; than a hole in the soul. Cards like: The flames of youth, the ashes of regret, the if only of what can never be... Jesus heals it all...
Yes, ADAGEMAN had died, but Bentley Wordsworthy reigned alive and well as the bard of Spice of Life Greeting Cards. He even authored a few novels. But in the life of Bentley, the waters of success never flooded over the banks of humbletude. "Don't be too proud;" Bentley would say, "the chocolate coating of riches does not a life make; for of faded wisps, once whirlwinds, the dust whispers without thirst." He more than often added, "The spice of life, the very essence of living: Love the LORD continually; share his love with all; enjoy his every gift. For who else can turn even a bump on the head into blessing."
Oh, and in the chair of the bard, the new fantasy of Bentley twas a job well done, driving a forklift...
(Mark 8:36; Isaiah 29:4) (James 1:17; Colossians 3:17) (Romans 10:13)
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