Category Archives: inspiration

Sometimes

Something woke me up at 3:41 AM this morning. Sometimes it’s insomnia, but not today.

Sometimes you wake up slowly and realize you’re stretching, feeling the freedom of every muscle movement. Sometimes you wake feeling completely rested, healthy and whole. Sometimes you know something woke you, but not sure what, and your mind begins a gentle wander wondering about chicken spaghetti, Snicker Doodles and peaches.

Sometimes you think the dog may have fleas because you hear it scratching in its crate. Sometimes you think of people and see their smiles and hear their voices and hope they’re sound asleep, or like you, completely rested. Sometimes you hear a noise and question how in the world you ever missed the ceiling fan’s sound as the quiet electric motor swirls the air. Continue reading Sometimes

Rock Bottom Hope

Two questionable characters were loitering in front on the grocery store bench. I did what all concealed handgun licensed carriers do.  I slipped a small pistol in my pocket before going in.

About the time I was in front of the bench, one of the men said, “Hey brother! Why don’t you hire me?”

That’s not the first time I’ve heard that line, so I knew at some time or another he had worked or interviewed for a job with me. I looked at the man who spoke and said, “I’m sorry. I recognize your face, but your name is slipping me.” Continue reading Rock Bottom Hope

We All Is

It’s odd, but when the mood for pancakes strikes, Whataburger, the hamburger place of Texas, is where I go. On Christmas Eve morning, the mood struck.

When I walked through the Whataburger doors, the woman behind the counter immediately greeted me.  She was probably 45 years old, fairly small, and a little rough around the edges.  She was the only one there wearing a Santa hat which covered all but the ends of her short corn rows on the side of her head.  She spoke with a semi-deep smoker’s voice and was missing four, maybe five, of her top front teeth.  She whole heartedly welcomed me, took my order and started pouring coffee. Continue reading We All Is

Dear Emmitt

Dear Emmitt,

Stillborn — that’s what the doctor said, but to your parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and extended family, you very much lived!  Thank you so much for entering our lives, even if ever so briefly. It is sweet, yet bitter, to miss and love you so much at the same time. Goodbye seems impossible before hello.

Your mother knows you better than anyone. She loved…no, she loves you dearly, Emmitt! You made her really sick those first few months. She was miserable in the mornings, and certain smells, like baking brownies, made her really nauseous. By the third trimester though, she was talking about how much you moved and how hard you kicked. We knew you were there because sometimes your mommy would let us put a hand on her tummy and feel you move. You would roll and stretch big, then give a hard kick just for good measure! I think you got all that energy from your daddy.

Continue reading Dear Emmitt

The In-Between Seconds

In the brevity of a moment there are seconds, when noticed, that mysteriously blink.  Those blinks are where the essence of life is lived.  It is in the mystique of those brief seconds when everything can, and does, change.  Although those seconds may be understood, they are never adequately explained.

It’s the seconds between a baby in the womb, and the first breath of life.  It’s the seconds between a mindless, carefree drive in the car, and an explosion of the air bag. Continue reading The In-Between Seconds

Just Say, Amen

Only the singers knew the song. It was alright. With some music and songs, you don’t have to know the words because the heart already knows.

After a few words, a gentle hush fell on the church congregation. The song began to resonate in hearts:

“But right here in this moment, May our strength be renewed, As we recall, what God has done, and how He’s seen us through.”  Continue reading Just Say, Amen

At Least For Now

There’s a plot of ground that lays still, quiet.  It’s a special, revered ground, but realistically, only to a few.

It’s a place to remember, a place to forget, a place to laugh, to cry, a place to go back and have conversations and wonder if anyone who sees thinks you’re insane. Continue reading At Least For Now

Happy Hawwoween!

The knock on the door was intense and extra loud.

I figured it was more 10 to 12 year old boys who had been trick or treating by the droves. The last group of 4 boys had been dressed like zombies and the boy closest to me at the door was in character, acting like he was going to bite my arm. I told him to be careful because the last ghoulish little boy who acted like he was going to bite me was buried in the back yard. The boy was simply amused, but the boy farthest from the door stepped back away from me while pushing his open trick or treat bag up for candy. Continue reading Happy Hawwoween!

Dancing in the Dark

At the Rec Center of the local university, a guy wearing sun glasses was making odd, random movements while music played over the loud speakers.  He was near the swimming area and sand volleyball pits, and the closer I got, the more I wondered if he was drunk.  At best, I figured he had some sort of muscle coordination problem, plus he had what looked like a goofy grin on his face.

Every step closer though it became clear I was wrong, way wrong.  He was blind. Continue reading Dancing in the Dark

The Sun’s Hope

The green grass fades while the blue sky darkens to shades of gray.  A magnificent array of red, orange and yellow spatter the clouds with peace, contentment, hope.  A single bird flies across the sky, as if it were homeless this evening, searching, seeking, wanting a place to safely land and call its own. Yet the bird flies on with something, something unknown to man, on its mind.

The wind turns to a soft breeze as the cool, gentle breath of nature begins to blow through heaven’s air conditioner vents.

The front porch rockers face the west and glide back and forth as the sun shoots off its version of fireworks in the clouds, as if to say goodbye, and goodnight, until tomorrow’s morning light. Continue reading The Sun’s Hope