Tag Archives: Christianity

Baby Jesus Dreams

Joseph and Mary watched baby Jesus sleep.  He stretched, smiled, then let out a little complaint as Mary removed a piece of hay scratching His neck.  His little face relaxed into deep, silent night sleep.

His eyes moved back and forth in rapid eye movement sleep.  Sometimes He smiled when He dreamed. Sometimes deep agonizing pain came across His face.

Mary asked, “What do you think He’s dreaming?”

Without looking away Joseph whispered, “I really don’t know.”

There’s no guide-book on how to parent the Savior of the world.  The immensity of raising a son, who’s also the Son of the Living God, is beyond comprehension. They really didn’t know what to do except the things that were in front of them minute by minute.

The sleeping newborn was completely, physically dependent on His parents, but there was so much more.  How could Mary and Joseph understand that as they smiled upon their sleeping child, He smiled upon them?  How could they fathom their dreaming baby was hearing people praying to Him at that very moment?  How could they know He was dreaming in human form, but in God form knew everything? Continue reading Baby Jesus Dreams

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Again

Asleep.

3:38 AM.

Phone call.

Disbelief.

No!! Again, poem

Adrenalin.

Rambling words.

Panicked thoughts.

Drive.

Get it together.

Just facts, please.

Numb.

Please, God!

Hope.

Crushed hope.

Be strong.

More facts.

Anger.

Wait.

Honest words.

Prognosis.

Asleep? Nightmare??

Pinch hand. Bite lip.

Real. Surreal, but real.

Again story
Herod’s pool, Caesarea, Israel on Mediterranean Sea

Sorrow.

Why, God, why?!!

Sterile environment.

Head in hands.

Tear on floor.

Would switch places.

How?

Oh, God! Oh…God…

Resolve.

Forward.

Never the same.

New normal.

 

Climb The Mountain

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

No Logical Answer

True story — It was Thanksgiving Day and he got up ready for a day of family, feasting and football, but something was bugging him.  He couldn’t get a co-worker who had been in the hospital and hadn’t worked for a month off his mind.

A crazy idea kept bouncing like a rubber ball in his head.  He kept feeling like he was supposed to buy bags of groceries, including a turkey and all the trimmings, for the man and his family.

He dismissed it several times, but couldn’t shake the thought.  A little later, the man’s wife needed something at the last-minute from the grocery store, so he loaded up two of his young sons to go with him.

At the store the thought was stronger than ever, so he grabbed a buggy and started filling it with canned goods, fresh fruits and vegetables, a turkey, milk, flour, eggs, the whole works.  When his sons asked why he was getting so much, he told them they were about to give the food to someone. Continue reading No Logical Answer

What Words Cannot Say

I put the rose from his garden in his rigamortis hand.  It didn’t look natural.  A snap of the stem to shorten it, then working it under his cold fingers and folded hands made it presentable.

Yes, that’s better.

I slipped a note I had hurriedly written, almost as an afterthought, and slipped it inside his suit jacket, hidden from the world, never to be read by anyone, not even the one it was written to. Continue reading What Words Cannot Say

A Rocking Chair of Life

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

At The Foot Of The Cross

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

The Dove’s Flight

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

Today’s Firefly Moments

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

The Bride’s Dance

The bride was beautiful. It wasn’t just her dress, makeup or natural beauty. It was the radiance of her heart from the inside to out. To top it off, she wears beauty, both the inside and out, with a genuine, sincere grace and humility. Her face glows. Her heart shines.

It was the day she’d always dreamed about, and it was glorious. The groom is a top of the line guy, and soon after they met, their spirits danced. They fell in love and quickly grew into soulmates.

Any time you’ve lost a close family member though, there’s always a certain yearning that rustles the memory of those who won’t be there. The bride’s father was a good man, and marked her life profoundly well. He passed away unexpectedly after her 5th grade year, and making it even harder, she and the rest of her family were with him on vacation.

It’s hard for children who can’t touch, hear or talk to their hero. Some children respond negatively and grow up cold, hard and calloused. On the other hand, some choose otherwise. Continue reading The Bride’s Dance