Tuesday, November 17, 2015

The Son’s Rays

When clouds block the sun 
Darkness fills the sky 
The sun can not be seen 
But the sun yet is high

When troubled seas toss you 
And you fear He’s not here
Although He may not be felt
The Son is still there 

Fear not when shadows 
And silence fill your days 
Though the Master vanishes during the test
Not long will be hidden His comforting rays

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

What is a Hero?

What is a hero?
One Hundred to zero,
Age does not matter.

Is a hero something great?
Sometimes it’s the hands of fate
That brings one to light.

Does a hero have to be brave?
Courage, at times to save,
Is rather fear channeled. 

Will a hero be very strong?
For a time not long
Will strength matter. 

A hero is not something
Made up of one thing
Or things too many to count. 

A hero does not seem
Always to be deemed 
Worth of praise.

Some heroes are never seen
For who they are, but only the scene
They made in their moment of greatness. 

A hero can be small,
Lacking the titles “handsome” and “tall,”
But gaining instead that of “Grace.” 

A hero can be the child
Who, meek and mild,
Shares his cookie with another.

A hero can be the father
Who never views as a bother
The dirt dish water reaching his elbows. 

A hero can be the one 
Who had no choice in what was begun
And can only find courage to finish. 

A hero is the one who used 
Fear and refused 
To fall defeated.

A hero is the person next to you
That never gave in who
Pushed though the day. 

A hero is anyone that
Chooses not to fall flat
In the face of challenges.

A hero is one who rises
And embraces surprises
And lives to give others joy

A hero lives to give others joy. 

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Why Not Soar?

Why not soar?
Why stay grounded?
Why not soar?
Why hold back?
Why not soar?
Why cling to the past?
Why not soar?
Why grasp the old?
Why not soar?
Why be afraid?
Why not soar?
Why refuse to let go?
Why not soar?
Why retain the negative?
Why not soar?
Why shrink from sunshine?
Why not soar?
Why say “no?”
Why not soar?
Why turn off the light?
Why not soar?
Why turn away?
Why not soar?
Why say “not yet?”
Why not soar?
Why carry the weight?
Why not soar?
Why doubt?
Why not soar?
Why look back?
Why not soar?
Why look down? 
Why not soar?

Why not take the first step?
Why not release the old?
Why not reach forward?
Why not trust?
Why not relish the warmth of life?
Why not say “okay?”
Why not give it to Him?
Why not let go?
Why not? 
Why not soar?

Why not jump? 
Why not fly high?
Why not go for it?
Why not?
Why not soar? 

Why not say “from this point on?”
Why not say “I’ll follow You?”
Why not say “I trust?” 
Why not?

Why not soar?

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Dreams Like Bubbles

Fragile forms floating
Away from the wand
The spherical configurations 
Rise above the reaching fingers
Gently the wind carries them higher
Still the child dances after
Pointing, grasping, following
Pursing yet the magic 
Some will burst along the way
The fingers grab 
The forms can’t hold again the stab
Others fly further 
Until the pressure closes in 
And yet a few will arrive
To brush against the sky
Before fading away 
Bubbles like the dreams of a child 
Are delicate and require 
The soft whispering breezes
To carry them upward
Dream on, dear one
Reach still above your head
Let your dreams brush the clouds
And you, tender guardian 
Handle tenderly the aspirations of the young 
Let those dreams
Tender as the fragile forms
Alight on the whispers of encouragement 
And let not harsh winded words 
Push them down
Rise above sweet dream
Ever strong 
Yet tender 

As the bubbles of your childhood 

The Eyes of a Child

Wide with wonder
Taking in the world
The eyes of a child 
Round their space
Absorbing this place
Never lose 
the child-like gaze 
Capture the moments 
With hands that always seek
To understand new and old 
Retain that mystery told 
Keep time with the rhythm 
Of curiosity 
And never lose the eyes of a child 

Sunday, August 9, 2015

Ocean, Rising to Setting

The body of water lies still at peace.
It has no care, no worry, no crease.
Calmly it waits for the morning rays,
To awaken its light and set it to praise.

The light hits the ocean a new day is here.
Time to embrace a shining atmosphere.
A ripple appears, a wave is born.
It will not be stopped, moved, or torn.

More waves move in upon the beach.
Shells and sand are shifted with each.
Light shimmers reflecting off the water,
It sparkles and moves as the day grows hotter.

The wind picks up, the waves have grown.
Blues of the ocean attest a deeper tone. 
Afternoon wears on, clouds roll in.
A misting of rain descends therein.

The day is not done, wait there is more.
Do not leave it behind, watch the shore.
An ocean of pink, then purple, then navy,

The sun dips below the ocean all wavy.

Friday, June 19, 2015

He Guides Me

Let Him speak, you have to let go.  
I was young, but now I am grown. 
Not always will we have to know  
The path that lines ahead or where  
We each will go next. On His throne   
He who numbers each strand of hair   
Has me safe in His hands and you  

Must understand He guides me too.   

Sunday, June 14, 2015

Above the Water

When you are jumping up and down,
So excited for the next thing,
Then life hits you in face and you feel you are going to drown,
Don’t freak out, put your head above the water and sing. 

Look up above your fears, ignore the waters.
If you are focused on the crushing, rising swells
How will you see beyond to the One watching over all His daughters? 
Don’t miss His quiet whisper because of your own yells. 

When your focus is removed from the water and placed on the sky
Your head tilts up and a breath of air fills your lungs. 
Only then can calm consume the insecurity, causing it to die. 

Breathing in His presence, trusting in the moment, receive the peace that comes. 

Friday, June 12, 2015

Say Yes Ma'am

“Say yes ma’am.
Say yes ma’am.
Answer me, baby birds.
Use your words.”

“I can’t reach it.
I don’t want to sit.
I bit my lip.
Can I crush your hip?”

Tiny Hands

Tiny hands, free of cares, play joyfully.
Worries are not their’s and never would be ideally. 
But life is a journey we all most travel
And soon tiny hands will know more than soft dirt and gravel. 

Tiny hands grow a little more each day.
Slowly they begin to recognize what is coming their way.
Some tiny hands get pushed faster along the path than others.
Their journey, becomes difficult before their brothers’.

Tiny hands must learn how to be strong,
To keep on and leave behind what’s wrong. 
Struggles will be rough.
The traveler becomes tough. 

Tiny hands with work slowly harden.
Gone and forgotten are the days easy in the garden.  
Life now demanding,
Would he yet be standing?

Tiny hands no longer small and cheery.
Tiny hands now rough and weary.
Callused hands now carry on. 
Callused hands now conceal a yawn. 

Callused hands forget to fold,
Prayers are only for the young and the old. 
Love is being left behind. 
Unaware, he becomes blind. 

Tiny hands, new and free of cares,
Come to wipe away unnoticed tears. 
Slipping dearly into old callused hands,
Soft hands gently seek to understand. 

Tiny hands quietly leading,
Patch the heart that has been bleeding.
Folding together with callused hands,
Softly to aid the old who now stands,
And slowly begins to raise 
His own once more in praise. 

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Heroes Come in Small Packages: May Quote Quest

The Prompt: "We're just kids, we aren't suppose to be heroes yet." 

The Rules Can be found Here.  If you want to join, go for it! 

“But we’re just kids, we aren’t suppose to be heroes yet. This is so confusing! Janet, what should we do?” Brandon’s 7 year old’s face held an expression that could only be described by the words ‘utterly and completely bewildered and concerned’ as he looked at his equally confused twin sister. 
“Yeah, but I think we can at least try to help, right?” The darling pixy girl with chestnut curls looked at her feet and then back at her brother. 
“Um sure, but doing what and how?” 
“Wait! I have a plan.” Janet’s eyes glimmered with a hit of sparkle.
“Is it a good one?” 
“I have a plan.” 
Brandon looked doubtful. 
“Come on, follow me.” Janet held out her hand to her brother and once he took hold, she whisked him away faster than one would have thought her short legs could have flown. Her bedroom door didn’t have a lock, but her closet did. Before he could say anything, Janet did an unexpected flip of her wrist which sent Brandon sprawling into the tiny space. “Stay here.” She ordered and turned the lock before the little boy, who was older than her by 32 seconds and didn’t take kindly to being told what to do, could finish a startled, “Huh?” 
But Janet didn’t go far before she turned around. Using her gymnastics skills she dropped and summersaulted back to the door. Laying on the carpet, she pushed her mouth to the crack between the floor and the door and whispered, “Brandon, there’s something you should know if I don’t come back.”
“What’s that?” He whispered back.

“I don’t have a key.” With that Janet sprang up again, attempted to do a cartwheel, and landed flat on her back outside her bedroom door. Disregarding the failed attempt at a superhero’s grand exit, she hopped up and ran off to complete her mission. 

THE END…of the Mind Game

Another month and still no reply. I texted her a year ago. I’m tired of the silence, tired of the emptiness inside, tired of waiting, tired of the nothingness of it all. 

“Ba-bing!” My phone made a sound, bringing me out of my stupor. 

“I DIED” it read. 

“You’re messaging me, someone you don’t even really know, who sent you a text a year ago saying ‘hey’, that you died?” I wrote back.

*Ping* “I DIED” came through again. “Seriously?” I thought, exasperated. 

“Fine, we’ll play it your way.” “I DIED” I wrote back. 

“Great! Where are you?” 

“Excusem moi?”

“I don’t speak Greek.” 

“That’s French (I think) and you obviously don’t speak that either. Where were we supposed to meet again?”

“Don’t you remember? The place we met the first time, in your mind.”

“Please shed some light as to where that was. My mind seems to have forgotten. That’s the funny thing about minds, they have a mind of their own.”

“In your mind. Duh.” 

“Yes, yes. But where in my mind?”

“Left side, slightly to the left center, and up three blocks.” 

“Blocks of what? Is this supposed to be a mind game?”

“Cement genius.”

“I am, thank you.”

Sarcasm. Blonde.”

“But I don’t have blonde hair, I have black hair, and that’s the complete opposite of blonde. By the way, what house number is yours? I seem to be a bit lost in here. So crowded with heaps of thoughts, long-forgotten ideas, great comebacks made in the shower, and so one, and so forth.”
“First of all, blonde is not a hair color but rather a state of mind. Plus your black mane was dyed. I have no number. And yes, you have problems, I can tell you are a hoarder and the fact that all your come backs were made in the shower confirms that you live in the state of blonde because you couldn’t come up with the perfect words till hours later.”

“Fine then. Go ahead and act like that. I don’t mind. After all, if you only exist in my mind, then I have no need to listen to you. I’ll just block you out. My hair being dyed is no concern of yours. It was done professionally. Will you go out with me. I mean, somewhere besides my mind?”


“Laughing over this conversation?”

“No. This is NOT FUNNY.”

“I DIED” I wrote. “And so, the tables are turned.” I thought. 








“Just remember, you started this.”

“NOPE! I just checked, you are on the news, you just died.”


No answer. 


NO answer.
“You died. It’s over. Your mind is gone.” 

“True. What else is new?”


“No… I died”


“I am, thank you. Do you have anything else you would like to add before I go?”

“Too late. You’re gone. Forever. If you reply, the world will end, or at least my world and I don’t think you want that because you asked me out and the only way to get me out is though your nose. Wouldn’t want to ruin the back of your head. Nor the front, for that matter.”

“Are you implying that you are my brain?” 

“That’s it. You did it. Game over.”

A huge explosion shook the apartment building. Ash and rubble filled the air. The wall collapsed, with Steve underneath it. The mind game was officially….OVER. 

It was a blast. The whole thing. Literally. 

The End (for real).


Okay, now it is. 

Will you please cut that out, I’m trying to end this jig...deal...thing.


Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Because I am a Blonde

“Hello?” Steve answered his iphone, which had been ringing incessantly for the past two seconds. 
“Hey!! Who is this? I have great news for you sir!” The excited, borderline chipmunk voice practically squealed on the other end. 
“Um, this is Steve.” Steve replied, holding his device 15cm away from his ear and cringing as he warily anticipated the response. 
“Steeeve!! We have your 5 kids ready for adoption, when do you except to swing by, sign the papers, and take the little dolls home?”
Steve grabbed the blonde hair on the top of his head, about yelling into the phone, “What in the world are you talking about? That is about as ridiculous as a milk refrigerator exit! Are you serious?” 
“Of course I am serious and what is this about a milk exit refrigerator?” The squeaky and still exuberant voice questioned. 
“Never mind the milk exit thingy. Um...why do I need to come pick up 5 kids?” Steve was beginning to hyperventilate. He never considered the fact that he could simply hang up and disregard the entire prank call. 
“If you want more information call this number and tell them to dump the kids at Murder Highway and Lifeless Drive in Midway Park.” 
The person on the other line rattled off another phone number, which Steve scrambled to scrawl down onto the back of an old gas receipt. Then they hung up abruptly, leaving Steve to make the call in a solid state of shock. 
As Mark was walking by it, the phone on the table began ringing. He jumped as if a gun had just been shot and was about to run for the exit positive that it was a smoke alarm. Then he shook himself realizing it was only a phone call coming through. No one was at the desk, so he quickly scooped up the old fashioned, touchscreen-less device and answered it. Before he could utter a word, Steve exploded on the other end. 
“Where are those kids?!?! Why do you need me to take them? For heavens sake, you picked the wrong guy to take a hand from! For all I care you can leave them at murder central and life killing park, or wherever your genius chipmunk ally said to dump them!” 
“I’m calling the police!” Mark cried, reeling backwards from the force of the shock wave which had just slammed him. He was sure that he had just stumbled across critical information and that the lives of those kids were now in his very capable hands. With his head covered in think blonde hair and full of great wisdom and knowledge far surpassing his 22 years, he was sure he that he would be their Batman and save them from inevitable murder and less life than they had now. 
On the other end Steve screamed something that Mark didn’t quite catch and then hung up. Or he could have fallen, Mark couldn’t tell, he was too focused on dialing 911. 
“Sir,” The dispatcher answered Mark’s call immediately. She was use to receiving calls every moment of the day. Nothing startled her. She was trained to stay calm and send help to the right locations. Checking the big screen in front of her to see where he was calling from she continued. “Sir, I see you are calling from Walmart. What is your emergency?”
“Some guy just called our store.” Mark blurted out. He was sweating buckets and breathing as hard as he would be if he tried to run as fast as a cheetah. 
“Sir, what is your name?” The woman asked in a steady voice. She was also trained to get people to calm down so they could share cohesive and hopefully helpful information. 
“Mark.” He gasped. 
“Mark, why did you answer the phone at Walmart? Do you work there?” 
Mark nodded. 
“Mark? I can’t hear you.” 
“I just nodded my head yes!” 
“Mark, I can’t see you.” 
“Oh, sorry.” Mark mumbled and then remembered why he was on the phone with 911. “You have to save some kids they are going to be murdered!!” 
“Mark, how do you know this?” The dispatcher asked in a patient tone, although at this point she was inwardly getting frustrated, normally by this time in a call she was actively involved in sending help, not still trying to figure out what was going on. 
“I already told you! Some guy called! Weren’t you listening?” Mark was not making any sense to her, although in his complicated and brilliant mind he of course had everything sorted. 
“Mark, I needed you to explain to me exactly what happened and why you need my help.” 
“Look, pay attention. Someone called and said to murder some kids in lifeless park.” Mark spoke very slowly trying to make the woman understand. It wasn’t working. 
“Yes, but this does not tell me anything, Mark. Lifeless park is not a real place.” 
“Yes it does! Obviously you guys have to save them!” 
“We can’t help anyone unless we know what you are talking about! Where are the kids? Who are the kids? Why do you have anything to do with any of this?” She couldn’t help it, she was getting frustrated. 
“I ALREADY TOLD YOU!” Mark was beginning to think he was going to have to save the kids himself. 
“All you have told me is that someone called your store and said something about kids. You haven’t told me anything that we as the police can go off of. How do we know you aren’t making this up?” The dispatcher answered, a touch of indignation in her voice. 
“Why don’t you just send a couple of your police minions over hear and let me talk to someone who will actually be able to help. Obviously you don’t get it.” Mark was done with the unhelpful woman who could not comprehend such a simple call for help. 
The woman got an idea. 
“Mark, stay right where you are. Don’t go anywhere.” Then she hung up. 
Mark Froze. 
After 10 minutes of hold the same position, the touchscreen-less phone still by his ear sounding the annoying dial tone, Mark finally heard sirens. A few moments later his manager and two husky policemen dashed into the back room where he was waiting not so patiently. 
“What took you so long? Can I put the phone down now?” Mark asked exasperatedly. 
“Mark, we got here as fast as we could and of course you can put the phone down.” The taller of the two officers answered moving his hand behind his back. 
“Would you like to tell us why you needed us to come help you?” The second prompted firmly. 
Mark slapped his forehead. 
“For heaven’s sake, I don’t need your help.” 
“MARK!!!” His manager exploded. 
“That’s it.” The shorter of the two police officers moved behind Mark and grasped his upper arms with an iron grip. At the same time the first whipped out the handcuffs he’d had his hand on. 

“Mark you are under arrest for pranking the police.” 

Thursday, May 14, 2015

This is NOT and Exit

Mark walked down the dairy isle in the Walmart store he worked at. It was nearing 9pm, the end of his shift and he had been sent to check for any messes that might need attention before he left. 
Passing the milk section he glanced at the glass and kept walking. 
"Hold on, what was that?" He turned around and took a second look. "What! Who wrote 'Exit' on this door?" He exclaimed. 
The letters were large and appeared to have been written in red sharpie. He tried rubbing the incorrect declaration off the glass door with the sleeve of his shirt, but it didn't even smear.
"I'll tell the manager about this before I leave." Mark promised himself. "Haha, whoever wrote that had a sense of humor." 
The next day…. 
Steve walked quickly down the back isle of the store. Glancing around to be sure no one was watching he tucked the stolen DVD inside his shirt. Suddenly Mark rounded the corner. 
"Can I help you?" He ask. 
"No." Steve replied quickly.
Mark shrugged his shoulders and walked the other way. 
"Ah! There's an exit!" Steve said to himself in relief. He ran down the dairy isle, grabbed hold of the milk door, and stepped in. Pushing aside the milk on the third shelf he pulled himself through to the other side. 
"Now where is that exit?" Steve looked around the dark, tight space. "Boy is it cold in here. How is this an exit?" 
The next day…. 
Mark went to the back room with the mission to restock the milk section. Before he could hit the light he tripped over something. 
"What was that?" he stood up and flipped the light on. 
There lay Steve. He was pretty much frozen and sound asleep. 
"Oh great. I forgot all about those letters written on the glass. I guess he got confused… We better put up a sign.”
Steve was a blonde. 
Mark was also a blonde. 
The door now has a sign that declares, "THIS IS NOT AN EXIT." 
The end. 

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Psalm 139

The past several months I have been memorizing Psalm 139. I then took two verses a day and meditated on them. To enable me to more clearly see the deeper meaning of each one, I looked up key words in the passage and wrote down their various meanings. Finally I rewrote the two verses a day, expanding them and using my own words to add to my understanding. I was amazed by how much added meaning I found through the process. Here is how I rephrased the psalm…

God has carefully examined me in order to understand me and He has become acquainted with me. He knows me individually, apart from all others. He understands me personally, deeply. He is familiar with everything about me. The Lord understands the nature and meaning of each of my steps and each rest I take. He has personal knowledge of my habits because He studies me. Every word I speak has been apprehended clearly with certainty by God, He is fully aware and He takes everything into consideration. The Lord has surrounded me and protects me on all sides, with His hands. Understanding of that reality is too great for me; it is above my ability to grasp, I cannot wrap my mind about it. Where can I go where You are not there? Is possible for me to escape from Your nearness at all times? If I rise into Heaven You are there; if I choose to sink into Hell, behold, You are there also. If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the outermost parts of the sea, even there Your hand shall go before me and guide me, and Your right hand shall sustain and support me. If I say "darkness and evil are going to capture me" even when it is night light will shine around me; indeed darkness cannot escape You nor hide anything from You, but the night is as bright as the day; the darkness and the light have no separation to You. For You gave shape, order, and form to my core being, my innermost parts, and my mind and soul; You protected, sheltered, and defended me while I was yet not born. I will praise You for I am something which incites awe and am excellently created. Extraordinary are Your creations and everything You touch, and that my innermost being is well aware of. My body was not concealed from You, when I was made in a sheltered, secluded place and shaped with skill in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my essence even before I had a defined shape and in Your book all of them were recorded, the days made for me when none of then had yet passed. Your thoughts are of high value to me, Lord. They are so many that I cannot count them for there are more of them than grains of sand. When I wake up I am still in Your presence. Oh, that You would destroy and extinguish the evil, O God! Go away and leave me, thus, you murderous, violent men. For they speak sinfully against You. Your haters take Your name and remove its meaning. They disrespect You. Those who intensely dislike You, O Lord, do I not also hate? And do I not regard with disgust those who come up against You? I abhor them greatly, I consider then my foes. Carefully examine me, look beyond me outward demeanor, O God, and become acquainted with and understand my heart. Try me, and perceive my worries, and discern whether there is any sinful manner in me and direct me in the path eternal, lasting, continuing forever.

Friday, May 1, 2015

Dear Mr Time

Today, dear Mr. Time,
Could you add an extra portion to mine? 
Surely a spare minute here or there
Could be found for my watch to bare. 
You see, I need it in order to get each task done.
Some at least would be better than none. 
For certain you could find
A lazy couch potato who wouldn’t mind,
Or maybe just not notice, if 
57 minutes of TV time, a whiff,
To be honest, were taken from his dose. 
I know also two children who get close
To fighting when too much time 
Is left on their hands. Really a crime. 
Snip 8 minutes off each of them.
Oh please do be a gem!
Then I would have 16 more minutes,
Which I would add to those 57 minutes,
Resulting in an extra hour and 13 minutes.
And as everyone knows, minutes
Do add up after awhile.
That helps, but it’s a small pile.
Let me think.
All these jobs could make me sink!
Could you spare me one more hour?
I’m not asking for a clock tower.
Please only think, Mr Time,
How I have written you this lovely rhyme. 
How about I tell you were to get it.
Hold on, give me a bit...
Oh! I know where!
Remember this? You were there...
Last month you took an hour from me.
It was for Day Light’s Savings, you see?
You can not deny the fact,
While I slept you committed the act. 
Just give me that hour back. 
What would you do with it anyway?
Please add that hour back to my day. 
Let me add that up now.
Two hours and 13 minutes that would allow.
Tale as old as Time,
I wrote you a pretty rhyme,
You are wise and to each you give
The minutes exact which we should live. 
But please be persuaded today.
I guess that’s all I have to say.