Shake the desert sand out of your shoes. Get the pebble out of the toe. There’s a mountain to conquer.
It’s not too big or tall, not too steep or too rocky to be settled. It can be done. No matter what the circumstances, it can be conquered. There is a way. The size of the mountain is not as much of a limit as how we think about it.
There’s always fresh challenges, additional issues, new problems. There’s always something different that starts to make the mountains look the same.
I want the green, lush valley of rest, where gentle breezes and bubbling brooks wind their way through the trees and flowers. I want the easy path instead of a hard climb, the gentle road, not of the stony trail, but that’s not how it usually goes.
Climb anyway. Continue reading Climb The Mountain
She remembered an incident that happened years before and burst into laughter. Instinctively, her hand went to the rocking chair beside her. The blade of reality cut as she returned to the present.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes to regain her composure, and settled quietly back into the rhythmic rocking of her chair.
For years she sat each evening with her husband rocking at sunset. Sometimes they talked non-stop; sometimes they sat quietly. Sometimes they even bickered back and forth like two school children, but there was never a doubt that they were on each other’s team. In fact, they were each other’s biggest fan.
The years since he retired were some of the best and enjoyable evenings of all. Each knew, however, that the sunsets they watched from their front porch rockers were similar to themselves.
Even so, when he was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer six months earlier, it seemed like a short time was cut shorter, for it was all too quick, too sudden, too complete. Continue reading A Rocking Chair of Life
Three balls for $2 or nine for $5 — man after man, boy after boy, redneck after redneck, stepped up from a large semi-circle of spectators around the dunking booth at the Brazoria County Fair, Texas.
Sitting in the dunking booth surrounded by carnival rides and loud music, the little clown face painted man was easily heard above it all. “Ayayayayayaya!“, Bobo hollered into a microphone. He had no shortage of insults for anyone who dared pick up a ball trying to drop him in the water.
They’re only prize was to see Bobo drop in the water, but he and his worker were making money hand over fist. His abrasive voice rang out over loud speakers and like flies to a spider web, one by one he lured guys in to plop down their money. As soon they stepped in his web, Bobo started. His constant chattering, challenges and chastising made you laugh hysterically at times, wince at others.
The nature of young men is to battle, in one shape or fashion, to show their dominance, and Bobo capitalized on this — all the way to the bank. Everyone knew what was in store as some overconfident ego filled guy stepped up like a gladiator to throw a ball. In most cases, the gladiator walked away humiliated. For spectators like me, it was hilarious. Continue reading Bobo
At the foot of the cross,
Where dirt gives way and rugged wood is revealed,
Where sweat, blood and tears drop from above,
Where laughter, jeers and taunts are heard,
Where only a faithful few remain, overcome in pain as they look on…
At the foot of the cross,
Where the blood mud puddles,
Where evil raises its hands in victory unaware it just lost the war,
Where one death births life for all… Continue reading At The Foot Of The Cross
Through the air, gliding the winds in silent solace seeking a place that may, or may not yet, be there. Peace and hope comfort my spirit as I wing along seeking a land that only the meek shall enter.
All I see is water, waves upon waves, moving and massaging, yet erasing. Somewhere is a promise, and to find it is my goal. For this, my boarded, protected wings were set free to fly in search of the promise which will release the confined, and set free humbled souls.
It feels good to fly freely. Yet on the other hand, a journey’s labor is rarely worth it during flight. The fun, the pleasure comes in the landing, where the destination is safely enjoyed.
So on I fly through daylight, then the dark night, searching, seeking, straining to see by moonlight that virtuous destination where I may land, yet all that’s there is water. Continue reading The Dove’s Flight
It’s not about lifetimes. It’s about moments.
No one intends to forget the taste of life known during their early years. Yet as the earth rotates and circles the sun, life gets busy, rushed, stressful. We tend to brush aside today for what seems more important, making it to the next paycheck, planning for retirement or just getting through today.
It’s easy to lose sight of the road we’re rolling over now and focus on the mile marker of the next destination. In hindsight, it’s a tragedy to bypass today for tomorrow, assuming tomorrow actually comes.
When life’s sun begins to set in the Western sky, human nature ponders more moments of the day. Moments tend to become more precious. The mind begins to wander, wondering what was forgotten, downplayed or just missed altogether in the past. Life goes so fast.
No one on their deathbed asks for their 401(k) statement, primps in the mirror, or looks just one more time at a problematic carpet stain in the hallway. We want people. People we share life with. People we love. Continue reading Today’s Firefly Moments
Last Sunday night we went to Janet’s old church in another town. There were about thirty speakers! Now before you pass out, here’s the deal – each person had memorized either a chapter, or a large portion of the book of Revelation. Each quoted their portion sequentially until the entire book was quoted from memory!
The pastor quoted Revelation 1 and applause broke out as he returned to his seat. A teenage girl, about 13 years old, stood and quoted chapter 2 as smooth as silk on a glass table.
Next her twin, autistic brother began quoting the words he knew so well. About the 6th verse he faltered, and in frustration, rocked back and forth. He quickly regained his composure and continued quoting what he had worked so hard to learn. He hit another roadblock and began rocking again, but the train returned to the tracks and he hit his rhythm.
He stumbled once more, and looking up, began moving his hands in a grabbing motion, as if to grasp individual words floating in his brain to get them back in logical sequence. Continue reading Revelations From the Heart
When the heart’s tap root hits pain, angels cry. Do you feel it? Do you feel them, something, somewhere, swirling, moving, circling the soul as the root draws up pain watering the heart making it swarthy and bruised?
Some people, some personalities cannot get away from the pain. It’s not that they don’t deal with their own. They do. It’s that some can’t get away from other’s pain.
Sometimes out of the blue it can hit you, in the store, watching TV, hearing a story, understanding what has happened. The person’s pain, both shown, and even more intense, the hidden pain, grabs hold with a dry ice-cold grip burning the very beats of one’s own heart.
It can’t be explained with words, for words don’t express it. Letters can’t convey it, and the alphabet becomes nothing more than scissors on the tongue. You can’t get out what has gone in. Continue reading No More Angel Tears