If you have not love...

Luke 8:5-10

5 “A sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed, some fell by the wayside; and it was trampled down, and the birds of the air devoured it. 6 Some fell on rock; and as soon as it sprang up, it withered away because it lacked moisture. 7 And some fell among thorns, and the thorns sprang up with it and choked it. 8 But others fell on good ground, sprang up, and yielded a crop a hundredfold.” When He had said these things, He cried, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear!”

9 Then His disciples asked Him, saying, “What does this parable mean?”

10 And He said, “To you it has been given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of God, but to the rest it is given in parables, that

‘Seeing they may not see,

And hearing they may not understand.

I have read and heard this passage many times. The commentary on this passage talks about the hearer of the word… for some the word gets trampled on and taken away before it can take root…some hear but soon forget…others hear but are caught up in many earthly things…then there are those that hear the words live the word and share the word.

 This morning I was thinking that not much is mentioned about the sower. Here are  a few of my thoughts on the sower…

The sower faithfully went forth and sowed. Perhaps the sower saw that the seed got trampled and taken away.  This perhaps sadden the sower yet the sower did not become discouraged. The sower moved on sowing the seed again. This time it was amongst some rocks the sower watched the seed spring up and quickly died. The sower only watched the seed and did nothing to encourage the growth of the seed. Even so the sower continued sowing as called to do.  This time the sower was diligent in providing more of what the seed needing to grow yet the sower was neglectful in removing the thorns. Once again, the sower faithfully moves on perhaps in discouragement none the less moves on with the seed.  Finally, a bountiful crop. What was different about this good ground?  The sower first fertilized the ground with love it was not luck that the seed feel upon good ground. The sower showed kindness and loving care that the ground needed before seeding it. Love grows where kindness shows. The word of God is love. If you have not love the seed will not grow.

To unfriend or not to unfriend

Sometimes it is very hard to practice what I “preach,” be kind and loving, treat others with empathy and compassion, and pray for your “enemy.”  I find that I am disappointed and hurt in the action or lack of action from a person that I consider a friend. That disappointment and hurt has made me feel angry toward this person. I hate feeling this way. My default is to just cut this person out of my life. That way I will no longer be hurt by them. I do not like my feelings being hurt. Not many people do. I have matured in many ways, but this is one area of my life that I have not. I just want to hit that handy little unfriend button that Facebook has made so easily available. The question is, why don’t I? Will they ever know that I did? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I really want to be that childish; save myself from the pain. I also want to send them a message and ask them what the hell is wrong with them? Then I do this whole did I do something wrong? Did I hurt their feelings? Feeling guilty for imagined things is very stupid. And stupid happens. The truth is people are careless and cruel. Sometimes they are very aware of their actions, and other times they are too self-absorbed to notice that they are causing damage. Either way, the root cause is self-centeredness.  I know that I am need of forgiveness, for I have been guilty of hurting feelings. Praise God I am not the person that I was 7 years ago. The reality is I need to let it go and let God be God and do what only He can do.   Perhaps sometimes there are “friendships” that just are not meant to be friendships. I am thankful for those that I can call friend. I am also thankful that those that I call “friend” will not know the difference because of the grace of God. 

Sometimes miracles take years before they can be seen.

My mother in love has challenged me to post my favorite scriptures for 10 days and to challenge 10 of my friends. This passage is very dear to me.  In February 2001 I had a major stroke. I thought that I was going to die. Even the nurses at my neurologist thought I was dying. This was one of the most terrifying events in my life. One day I was so grieved in my spirit  I was crying facedown begging God for answers. ( this was my Gethsemane ) I prayed that whatever God’s will was , even if it was that I was dying, I would accept it. I closed my eyes opened my Bible and let my finger rest on it. Still begging God that He give me an answer do I live or am I dying.

I read this verse Psalm 30:3 O Lord, You brought my soul up from the grave; You have kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit.

 Let me tell you when I first saw this with blurring vision from my tears all that I saw the word Grave. I cannot express the pain that I felt in that moment. Then I heard this soft voice read it again and understand. I memorized the entire passage. As years went by I had forgotten it.  Last Sunday my father in love gave a wonderful sermon on Psalm 30. It reawakened that promise from my Abba to me and mine to Him.  I just want to note that 16 years ago I had an overwhelming fear and a gross misunderstanding of God. The reason that the passage left me was because I was not in any relationship with God. I had gotten to a point in my life that I had nearly stopped believing.

Sometimes miracles take years before they can be seen.

100 Word Photo Prompt For February

To whom it may concern,

    You are not the first one to pass this way but I cannot promise that you will not be the last. The shadows where long upon the wall foretelling of the darkness that was soon to fall. You walked around the room opening empty draws wishing against hope, to find some lost forgotten treasure left behind from your predecessor. A secret that will stop the passage of time. You turn on the game and wait. You will not wait long. The closer the night draws the hungrier I become.

Sincerely, The Fly on the Wall

I AM A STRANGER ON THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN.

I am a stranger on the outside looking in.  They stayed together, and I was taken away.  I loved them the very best that I could, but even so I was taken away.  I cried for days and fear abounded at night. What did I do that was so bad that I was taken away? They were good and got to stay together.  I hear that growing up was hard for them, but they stayed together. I was alone living with strangers.  We are adults now, and yet I feel as though I am a stranger on the outside looking in on my brother and sister. They stayed together even when years passed without a word between them. I do not know all the pain that they went through, but they stayed together. They do not know the pain that I went through all alone. Before they came and took us away, I tried my very best to keep the monsters at bay. I do not think they know about all the monsters that lived under our bed.  All I want is to feel like I am a sister and not a stranger. I wonder at times if it is just another monster that has crawled from under the bed and into my head.

LOVE and HATE are both four letter words. We curse and bless interchangeably with the two.

I have been struggling with how and where to start with my story. I think I have been trapped by this idea that I must start at the beginning. I realize that for me that is not how it works. In my head is one train and a zillion tracks with sidetracks coming off of those and so on and so forth. You get the idea. This week I have been dealing with some un-forgiveness, hurts and rejection that still cling to me. Today I want to share a few. This is a but a piece of my story and part of the reason why I am the who I am today.

LOVE and HATE are both four letter words. We curse and bless interchangeably with the two.

This is what I learned when I was about four or five years old about God in relation to LOVE and HATE. God HATED me this I know for my step-grandma told me so. She use to wash me with a souring pad in scolding water to wash the evil off me. All the time telling me that God HATED me and would not ever be able to love a dirty child like me. I am not able to convey the physical and emotional pain that came from this nightly ritual when I had to stay with her and my Pappa. (NOTE my Pappa was always good to me I will tell about Pappa another time) After the bath she would dust me down with perfumed talcum powder. I abhor perfumed talcum powder. She would tuck me so tightly into bed that I could not even move. We said our nightly prayer. Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Hello nightmares and restless sleep. I HATE that prayer. I made up my own version for my children. I pray the Lord to Keep me through the long long night and wake me in the morning bright. You do not put children to bed with images of dying.

My first impression of God was that He HATED ME.

Around the age of five and half, six I learned what LOVE was. This lesson came from my step-father and his friends. I learned that the only way anyone would ever love me was SEX. I had to do things and let others do things to me. Now this part of love is extremely important, you must always keep love a secret. Tell no one. You tell; you die. I told, and he did indeed try to kill me.

My first impression of LOVE was wrong in every way.

God HATES me, and LOVE will kill me.

As time went on, little things only made this understanding more solid. My mom (adopted mom, another part of the story) overheard me tell a boy I was talking to that I loved him. She flipped out on me. “You do not love him. You might lust after him, but you do not know what love is. You are too young.” In my mom’s defense, she had no clue about the abuses that I had suffered. Effectively, her words helped to solidify my image that love and sex are the same thing.

God HATES me. In fifth grade a friend invited me to go to church with her. (I had been going to church off and on, Catholic with my adopted dad on Saturdays, and Methodist with adoptive mom on Sunday’s. (From here on out when referring to mom and dad it is my adopted parents. They are my mom and dad. When referencing the others, it will be as bio.)) Trying to keep the train from jumping track. It was a Baptist church. When they had their alter call, she kept elbowing me and telling me I need to go up there and get saved and baptized. (Baptism is another track to take.) “Saved form what?’ She said, “Going to Hell.” I laughed at her and told her that was her God and not mine. We stopped being friends. Fast forward to Jr High. I went to a revival with a friend. Same church. I cried and talked to some guy about being saved. I still had no clue what that meant. So many of the people that I went to school with hugged me and it seemed like they cared about me. WOW, this is nice. That Monday not a one of them would give me the time of day. So, this is what God’s love looks like. I am finished with it. (I will share that walk on the dark side another time.)

My second impression: God’s LOVE is rejection and HATE.

To love God, you hate people. Wait!! What??

Time jump. I ran away when I was 17, got pregnant at 18, and things changed. Life was no longer about me and my pursuit of dying. (Again, that is another track to take at another departure time.) Oh, a baby? I never wanted children. Wow! A baby! I was going to give this life, this innocent child, all the love and security that I never had. I did. My mom gave me a Bible as a wedding gift. I hated it. Time skip. I started reading that Bible, highlighting, underlining, dog earing. Yep. I was going to hell. I was so fearful of God. Chicken Little and the sky is falling, that is what I learned from the Bible. One thing that I did know without a doubt, I did not want my children to go to hell. They were baptized at four and one. This fear of God and His love lasted up until about 2001, 2002.

Third impression: FEAR God’s LOVE. HATE everyone that does not “know” God.

Around 2003, I was invited to go to church with some neighbors. It was a very small country Baptist church. The words that came from the pulpit were that it is all because of women that the world has so much evil. If women did not lead men to sin, then the world would be a better place. After that I was done with church and on the line of being done with God. Seven years of praying and trying to understand how LOVE and HATE and God all went together.

Fourth impression: Is there a God? I knew LOVE. That was the face of my children. I also knew the love that was making sure my husband at the time had all he wanted from me. I was starting to HATE him.

Time, late 2008 early 2009, I stopped hoping, I stopped praying. I was finished. I let go of the drift wood I was holding on to and let the water take me down into the deep. Spring of 2010, something started to change. Summer of 2010, I moved back home, and that fall I got divorced. That summer I met a man who had a relationship with God. He talked about God in a way that I had never heard. He talked to me, and he saw me as a person, not an object. He invited me to go to his father’s church with him. I did. I also made note of every exit. I refused to sing. I did stand, but I was not singing anything that I did not believe in. That winter I married him. Three years of going to church and the scales stared dropping from my eyes. What?? Wait!!

Fifth impression: maybe there is some truth to God is LOVE. But people HATE. I think in 2013 I was baptized. I am still learning what LOVE is. I now know what LOVE is not. I have no room for HATE.

Sixth impression: there is LOVE in God. But people HATE.

2017, I am deeply grieved that I see so many of God’s children feeling HATED by those that profess to love Him. STOP KILLING in the name of LOVE. That is HATE. LOVE and HATE should never be interchangeable.

Seventh impression: I will show all people that God is LOVE and HATE is a different four-letter word.

I have taken this patch from my soul to give you a better look inside. As you can see, it is not as ugly as it once appeared to be. In truth. it never was ugly or unwanted. It just need the right light to shine upon it. I do ask that you handle it with care, for it is still a fragile thing. If you are so inclined, I do not mind if you pass it around for others to see what LOVE can bring.

Seeking Solace , Useless Thing, It it be to Dream The last three days of one month of 100 words a day.

 I am not sure if I will continue doing this or if I will write once a week. I love/hated the challenge of it. I am thinking that perhaps I will go back and revisit some of my little worlds and flesh them out and see what they become.  I think that doing this exercise has helped with some of the cognitive issues I have (joys of brain damage ). I feel as though it has made me a little braver with sharing some of the crazy and not so crazy things that swim around in my head. Most times I think it is an okay place to be. The waters run deep with many islands I have yet to explore. Thank you for traveling with me on this adventure and perhaps we will see each other again in a dream of a forgotten memory. 

01/29 

Seeking solace in the dreamer’s dream. Misty eyed and forgotten. Losing the focal point. Using time as a warning sign. Muted in darkness caught in a downward spiral. Emptiness looking for a way out overflows into the void. Trapped in the forever of the dreamer’s dream. In a mirror a reflection of perfection a pretense of light, a fabrication of truth. The echoes of innocents that struggle to be human in the nothingness of nowhere. Picking up the shattered pieces of lessons learned. The future is fractured, challenged to love the broken and forgotten. Overcome with exhaustion...extinction.

01/30 

Useless thing they said. But I knew better then they. Useless thing how can that be? It called to me from beneath the darkness in which it lay. Useless thing that wept with joy when I brought it forth into the light. Useless thing that warmed itself as I placed it where it should have been “Look.” I said. They turned and walked away saying, “Useless thing. Put it back from whence it came. “ I cried out for them to stop. If only they could see that I would gladly trade their useless thing for the one inside of me.

01/31 

If it be to dream by day than at least let the disrupted rest of those that come by night cease to live by light. Where nightly dreams become daytime trances of silent screams and midnight dances. Lovers are lost in eternal embraces looking with blind eyed glances. The sun fades from red to grey to black. A broken moon unveiled from ethereal storms. A memory of the future a sigh a gasp. A vow is broken before it is spoken. Furrowed wings unable to take flight. A misplaced hope of undisrupted rest trapped by the living dreaming by night.

I walked in the in between. ( Week Four )

01/22 

I should have gotten up at three am and wrote what I wanted to write then. The words that I had eloquently written in my head. They are gone like yesterday and will not be back tomorrow. If only I had cast out a life preserver called memory. I could have saved them from drowning in the sea of my thoughts. I am sure that what I would have written would have been wise and philosophical. I am stuck with writing about what could have been what should have been my defining moment in my 100 words of literary art.

01/23 

I’m tired of the name calling on both sides. We “teach” our children that name calling and labeling is wrong. Yet it seems that it is everywhere, adults are acting like children. Children name call and label because they do not have the maturity and self-control. It's disheartening to see adults behaving this way. How can anyone possibly think that they are not causing harm to children when they are constantly saying hateful things to and about one another. Name calling hate, mongering anything that is harmful to another human being is OFF LIMITS. Verbal abuse is ABUSE

01/24 

There are many days that I feel as though I am parked diagonally in a parallel universe. Wondering what it is that I am running from or running toward. And Why? Perhaps I am only sleeping and dreaming of all the thoughts I could not think of during the day. I am a lunatic trapped in a sane mind with boundaries of what is right and what is wrong. Speaking blindness. Hearing sight. Touching smell. Music playing words that only my soul can keep. Sleeping. Dreaming. Thinking random thoughts. Talking to the lunatic that is diagonally parked inside my head.

01/25  

I walked in the in between. Discovering where the lost things are. I found the ship who sang, buried in Babylon’s ashes. A memory of shifting reality of a dark stranger standing at an abandoned gate. The air is Bitterwood and whispers of autumn. There are fractured worlds here. An immortal that was and is no more. A way station to time that was wasted but not forgotten. The in between wants you to believe that it is the end of all things. How wrong it is. Once you have found what is lost you can take it back again.

01/26 

Hello, my name is ɥɐǝl I wear my name upside down so that I can remember who I am in a world that is upside down but believes its right side up. Shadows of their inner selves projected in darkness. Right and wrong supercilious ideas that are judge, jury and executioner. People are things and things are people. Values, honesty and trust no longer have a place. I wear my name upside down to remind me I can aspire to the right side up. I will not get lost in the shadows as I continue to walk toward the light.

01/27 

We the people sleepwalking gathering together, standing on the shore, waking to a cybernetic dream. Controlled by the governing systems we set up to be controlled by us. Time passes. Becoming more automation then human. The tide flows a little high, ebbs a little low. The system of control. Who is human and who is the machine? Time passes, loops again upon itself. Nothing left but artificial selves. Slaves to the cybernetic dream. Anchored to the shore, drowning in the sands. Watching, waiting for the tidal wave to wash away the dream into reality. Time to wake up and swim.

01/28 

Sometimes I feel as though I am an Outsider to myself. Drifting in a sea of shadows to the melody of an infinite concerto. My life is indifferent to the stars above. In the unquiet of my mind restless shadows reign. Holding me hostage to yesterday’s pain. A requiem for freedom for dreaming. They dance ever closer and then retreat from my reaching hand . I hear the shadows whispers “Come join us.” The song becomes a scream and the dance abruptly ends. I have reached the shadows edge. It calls” Come join us. There is no pain in here.”

Week three of 100 words a day

01/15 

The unknown is waiting for someone or something to enlighten it, so that it will know what or who it is. It is not completely ignorant. It has some vague idea of what or who it is. There are stories it hears about itself that are told and retold. As it listens, some resound and feel true. While others it knows are untrue. The longer it waits the more of an enigma it becomes. Perhaps, maybe it is not all bad to remain nameless. No, it is not bad at all. The enigma that it now is will become wonder.

01/16 

We all have secrets. It is a part of our lives. Some are the keepers of the secret while others the secrets are kept from. We are the players and the played. We are only as guilty as the secrets that we keep. And only as innocent as what we are kept from. Secrets are nothing more than sugar coated lies. Secrets and lies darken the soul until all that is good, all that could have been good are gone. When it is all over and the end has come all that is left are the secrets and the lies.

01/17 

In the house beyond the field there are answers waiting for the questions. In the house beyond the field it holds a memory of light. In the memory, it gives the power to ask. The first shot is free. As you approach the house beyond the field it feels dark, as though it should be something to fear. Perhaps you are right. For when you ask questions you are never fully prepared for the answers that wait. Keep in mind you only get as good as you give. In the house beyond the field there are questions waiting for answers.

01/18 

Seeing through the throwing stones, to the beautiful strangers. Can you see us as you throw your stones? Can you not relate to the pain we feel inside? Do you see the questions in our eyes? See us through your throwing stones to the beauty that is inside. We are more than what you see on the outside, a diamond in the rough. Can you hear His voice calling you to reach beyond your vision? Calling you to see the beautiful stranger through the throwing stones, you are casting our way. There is beauty in us waiting to be discovered.

01/19 

In the beginning A was for Apple. This was long before B had the Blues. B’s blues made C Crazy. Once D was Deranged and clung to E that hung on the Edge of F. F Fell from G that Grew in H that was Hope. I Interceded on their behalf. J shouted with Joy. In turn K found Kindness to give to L. L gave Love to M. M was no longer trapped in Misery. N no longer felt like Nobody cared. O was Optimistic that P would not be Pessimistic. Q was ready to call it Quits.

01/20 

After Q came R which was no longer Recondite to all. S found freedom in its Soul and is no longer Sanctimonious about T being a Terpsichorean. U saw that the dance was Utopian for all. V went from clothed as a Vagabond to the cloth of Vestment. W, whom many thought was M playing upside down, was no longer trapped in Woebegone. X played the xylophone and the dance went on. Y felt a deeper Yearning for something more. Z stood on the Zenith of knowing the truth, that in the beginning A was the Alpha and the Omega.

01/21 

We all have our stories of a thousand tears we have shed and the countless nights that we have wept until our eyes all but bled. We all hear the voices that whisper in our heads. The ones that scream in silence begging to be fed. We have covered ourselves with words that kill us nightly as we lay awake in bed. They are the words that have caused a blindness that consumes us as we struggle to see the light. These are the words that bind us one to another and keep us trapped and lost in the night.

January 2017 100 word photo prompt ILLUSION

                                          Photo credit: greenzowie

ILLUSION

“It is an illusion I think.”

“What is an illusion?”

“The horizon. The ice. The snow. The gathering mist. It is all an illusion.”

“No, you are wrong this is not an illusion.”

“No, you say.”

“Yes. I can feel the pain of the cold in my bones.”

“Yes, of course you do it is all part of the illusion. Just smoke and mirrors that is all this is.”

“Smoke and mirrors you say. Just an illusion. I say it is more.”

“Do you know? Tell me what it is that you see what more do you think it is?”

Week 2 of 100 words a day challenge

1/08

It is safe to say that my husband is a little obsessed with sports. I do not think a day goes by that he is not making “bets” or talking about sports. Well it would appear that it is time for the NFL playoffs. I am aware of this information because this afternoon he was yammering on about the NFL playoffs to his dad. My father-in-law looks at me and says, “What an excellent use of grey matter.” I was surprised. I have never heard him be sarcastic, until today. I haven't laughed like that in a while.

01/09 

Trust can only be what we allow it to be. Some keep trust chained up like a dog to a tree. Every time it thinks it has been set free, it is yanked back by its neck and knocked off its feet. While others hold trust, captive waiting for it to sing like a canary in a gilded cage. There are those that put trust away in the dark where no one can hear it scream. There are few that still treasure trust with its dust and broken hues, but when held out. there is still light that shines through.

01/10 

I find myself deep in thought, as if this were my choosing. The sun has set and left me with my musing. As is my want my thoughts are random becoming tangent, with this I cast them upon the shore to be washed away once more. I sat and waited for whatever it is that I am waiting for. I struggled to catch my thoughts once more. I remember that I walk where the fairies lead and wade into the waves once more. To some I lost my sanity but truth will tell that it was never mine to keep.

01/11 

Love is a bird that has forgotten how to fly. Perched upon the soul longing for a place to go. It sings a song. It weeps. Waiting for someone to keep. In silence, it hears a whispering of wishes, a fluttering of feathers. Love gazing into the dark forever, blind. Love hoping against hope, believing in hope, stepping out on the tightrope of trust. Trusting that hope will not fail. The wind of lies blows, rustling of feathers. Losing balance, looking down into the abyss. Balance lost. Love stretches it wings, takes flight and slowly dies for you and me.

01/12 

There are two that travel, slaves to the south wind driven forward by its lashing at their backs. A Seer and a Tale Weaver, they seek forgotten places seen by the Seer. They travel on the tale that the Weaver weaves. These travelers two had once been three. The Seer seeks yet cannot hear. The Weaver weaves and cannot speak. The third of the two could not see, but heard what the seer sought, spoke words into the weavers’ thoughts. The third, the watcher, unseeing but all knowing knew that nothing but misfortune and despair waited for these travelers three.

01/13 

Sometimes I hate words. Silence, sometimes I hate that too. Most of all I hate when the voices in my head, the ones that I had silenced start, whispering to a scream. The thoughts I think, mental chatter makes me crazier than the Mad Hatter. There never seems to be a White Rabbit to chase down a hole when I need one. There are days that I wish I had just grinned like the Cheshire Cat and taken the blue pill. This rabbit hole is deep and seemingly never ending. Don’t believe me. Ask the voices in my head.

01/14 

It is very discouraging when my brain stops working. I forget what it is that I am doing, and I can not remember what it is that I have done. I remember that I had thought of what I was going to write for my hundred words today. I forgot them, all of them. I guess they were not worthy of being captured and put into written form. Or perhaps, just maybe, they are words that have hidden themselves away to be captured again another day. They are the secret words that hide in the quite places of the heart.

Week one 100 word challenge

My first seven days of doing the 100 word a day challenge. This is going to be harder than I thought it would be. Some might be off by a word or two. I have to go by the counter that the website uses and it is not always accurate. It is my hope that perhaps this will help me start writing again.

1/1/2017
 A few months back my husband did one hundred words a day for a month. I have been thinking that perhaps I should try it. Therefore, I shall start 2017 with one hundred words and do away with any new year resolutions. I will take 2017 one day at a time I will greet each day with a grateful spirit and a prayer in my heart. I will not regret my yesterday or wish my today away into tomorrow. I will live and love in this day not as though there is no tomorrow but for the life of today.

1/2/2017
 The dying art of thinking the ultimate death of the truth: The cause of death of the TRUTH is from the dying art of thinking. Why think for ourselves when others seem to be more apt at telling us what and how we are to think? Who would have thought that “I think therefore I am” would become I am because another has done the thinking for me? Even when the thought I am to think is nothing more than a lie, and therefore I have let the Truth die. We are a starving emaciated generation blinded by the LIE.

1/3/2017
I am sick I have been for a few years or more. In September I got fed up with endless doctors, test and medications. I felt that it would be best to stop it al. I started vitamins and supplements and above all prayer and believing in healing. For two and a half months’ things went very well. The past few weeks my body is starting to reject me. I try not to feel sorry for myself. Some days it is hard. Today I do not feel sorry for myself today I just feel like giving up. I HATE THIS.

1/4/2017
 I went fishing today in an attempt to string together a hundred words. I didn’t care if the words were big or small. All I needed was a hundred. They didn't need to be profound. Perspicuous words would work. Alas, it appears I lack the ability to be perspicacious when it comes to fishing for words. Like the adage:” Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach him to fish, feed him for a lifetime.” Give them 100 words they can read for a day. Teach them to read and they can write for a lifetime.

1/5/2017
The tree was chopped, taken from its only home. Sorrow filled it. Hope came with the family. It wouldn't spend its last days alone. They dressed it up as royalty. They sang, laughed and cried. Tree rejoiced to be a part of their celebration. Now it’s done, the finery removed. It still stands, not as lush or tall as before. It doesn’t feel sad or ugly. It rejoices it fulfilled its purpose. It gazes out the window reflecting on its life. it weathered the seasons, brought happiness in its last days. In its final hours, there’s joy.

1/6/2017
Stop the world I want to get off!! This crazy roller coaster ride is more than my heart can stand. Souls lost wondering in the dark thinking they are in the light. I am overwhelmed. I want to save them all. I understand why they are lost and angry. For too long they have tried to fill the emptiness that their soul longs for with worldly things. They cannot fill a God shaped hole with the things of the world it will fail them every time. That failure leads to bitterness and anger which begets hate and hate kills the soul.

1/7/2017
 Yesterday, I thought about writing my one hundred words in my head. It started just as I have written. Then, I thought perhaps I am cheating to write ahead in my head. Then, I thought there is no way I will remember what I wanted to write about. As I was pondering, I wondered how does the 100 words know if I came up with my words today or yesterday or what if I grabbed them from my former self or my future self? How can this thing even know if the words typed into it are even mine? Integrity?

When Silence Becomes Our Only Honesty

When silence becomes our only honesty.

Words wrapped up like cocoons.

Waiting for the dusk to become dawn.

Like a seed, it grows let it go.

Listen as it falls down in between.

Leave it behind unbroken but not whole.

Weaving its way along patchwork souls.

Wishes dropped washed away.

Wounded and wondering.

When silence becomes our only honesty.

Like a castaway tossed from one wave of words to another

Lies that anchor our souls to words that are not who we are or what we are.

Life has drowned in the deep of words, silence becomes our only honesty.