tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137375229694950692024-02-01T22:57:17.696-06:00trying to writetrying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.comBlogger242125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-69434597464146251222014-01-09T22:32:00.001-06:002015-03-09T20:01:35.367-05:00Day 9<a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=gngbenson" target="_top"><img align="middle" alt="" border="0" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=gngbenson&s=party" hspace="4" vspace="2" /></a><script src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=gngbenson"></script>
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top">Free Counter</a></span>She watched the fog roll in, soon the little harbor had all
but disappeared. Only the dock remained
and the little waves lapping at the pilings.
Sunset had passed long before now and in the midst of fog the darkness
had descended. The breeze blew softly
against her auburn locks and as they
caressed her cheeks she closed her eyes. She imagined his touch on her
skin and the sound of his deep gentle voice singing to her.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Would
you still wait, my bonny, my fair one?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would
you still wait though I’ve been so long gone?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would
ye still wait, my bonny, my fair one?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A tear
slid silently down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away as if anyone might see it
in the gloom. Every day she had come to
this hill and looked out onto the little harbor. Sun, wet, cold, grey it hadn’t mattered. Every day for four years, 7 months, 2 weeks
and three days. She knew they made fun
of her in the village. Even her mum had
begun to wonder if she wasn’t half mad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Lassie
I know you love him, but its been so long.
He ain’t acoming back. You’ve got
to face the truth love and go on with your life. He ain’t acoming back.” Gently at first but as time went by her mum grew angrier and angrier. This time she stormed out the backdoor. It swung back and slammed behind her adding an exclamation point to her words</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I
thought surely you’d understand mum.” She had hollered back</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I do
my love, and I’m begging you don’t make my mistake. Go on with your life lovey, I’m begging you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some of
the older women said it was a curse on the family. They said the silkies had done it to
them. That she and her mum were destined
to be alone walking the shores for them that would never come back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She
heard a splash down by the water. The
sound of a pair of dolphins playing in the little inlet. Where are you? She called out to him in her mind. Whether she screamed it out loud or in her
head it didn’t matter. He would not hear
her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
wind had picked up a bit more. There was
cold in it. And she knew before long the
nor easterner would blow and the snow and the frost would come. Her little trek up this hill would only show
her a frozen bay and it would be foolishness to keep coming after that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If he
doesn’t return by the time the bay freezes I will stop coming.
I will look for another. I swear
it. She drew in a sharp breath as the thought pricked her heart.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the
wind she thought she heard the sound of faint music. Just the softest sound of a melody and then a
splash in the water again. It must be
dolphins in the bay.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
wind began to blow harder and she thought she heard the low soft laughter of a
man just off the dock. But the fog made
it impossible to see anything at all.
She heard the bell from the mile marker as it tossed in the water.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She
heard the laughter again. It sounded so
much like him. But could it be? did she really
remember? Her feet had already headed
down, the hill towards the little dock.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Come
away with me,” did she hear it, or was her mind playing tricks on her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She
heard soft humming, and then she heard the song soft and low</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Would
you still wait, my bonny, my fair one?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would
you still wait though I’ve been so long gone?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would
ye still wait, my bonny, my fair one?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She
screamed his name then, laughing and crying she ran to the edge of the dock and
dove straight into the deep darkness of the water. There was laughter for a moment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My
god, is it , is it you?” there was the
sound of splashing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
next morning they found her scarf floating on the water. The villagers were certain she'd killed herself but when her mum began to cry and to laugh remembering a time a long time ago.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-91658476731638564382014-01-07T20:38:00.002-06:002014-01-07T20:38:37.719-06:00<div class="MsoNormal">
I sat beside the hyumyum tree, all the livelong day</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Waiting for my true love to come and carry me away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I watched as the clouds floated lazily by</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And dipped my foot in the stream</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But my love did not come so I wandered away</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To the land of yesterday's dreams.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And there in the land of what might have been</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wondered where we
had gone wrong</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But there was no truth to be found in that place only a sad
lonely song.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I laughed out loud then and broke the spell of that melancholy way</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And followed the path to who knew where that lead to a bright new day</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I whistled and wandered for a day and a night </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Until I came to the bridge of all hope</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It seemed to made of the thinnest of boards and held
together by rope</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was another
path that led just a ways off to a cave that was called the lonesome's plight</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Which way, which way” the whippoorwill called,” which way to you
would seem right?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked at the bridge which seemed terribly weak and the
path which seemed pleasantly safe</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How will I choose, I
asked the wise bird, do you think you could give me a clue?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The path to the cave is indeed quite safe, there is nothing for you
to fear</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
it will take you straight back the way that you came and
will lead you nowhere unclear</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You know the other name for that cave its merely the cave of
regret …. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The thoughts that you think and the things that you see will
be only what if’s, if only and yet</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But crossing the bridge is treacherous indeed without any
promise of gain.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Beyond it however you soon will find that there nothing's the same.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who knows what you’ll find, who knows who you’ll meet</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There may be joys or defeat</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So choose wisely, choose well which way you will go </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
although the cave may lead you back here to this place</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the bridge will not
do the same</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ll take the bridge I said,
though treacherous I will not go back back </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let us go on our way to a land that’s not grey</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To a place that might hold great delight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let’s fly through the air, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
let us cross the great seas </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
if with only a prayer if you please..</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let’s follow the butterflies to a land far away,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let’s search for the place of new dreams of bright days</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the time has now passed </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
for the old plans alas </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But there's much more than old songs and old dreams</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still I’ll press on towards the great beyond.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll tramp up the mountains and swim in cool ponds</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll sing my new song to the day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And perhaps in some far country</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Beneath a dark sky where stars will twinkle and shine</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another will come who’s song sounds</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Something quite similar to mine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With someone or alone I will not remain in the shadow of the cave of regret</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Adventure awaits and I will escape to a place far beyond a shadow of what might have been.</div>
trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-49606343136002558842014-01-04T22:17:00.001-06:002014-01-04T22:59:27.965-06:00Purple Shoes<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Purple shoes dancing across the floor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pink tights on short chubby legs</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And a sparkly tutu</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So loved, little girl, so loved</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish I could stop this moment in time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where you twirl and whirl across the room</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Followed by a trail of giggles reminiscent of bubbles.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today you know that you are loved</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today you know that you are beautiful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today you know that you are a ballerina, and maybe an
astronaut or a fashion designer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Does it even matter because you can be all those things and
rock & roll and then quickly</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Don your little red cape and be a superhero.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How do we hold onto this?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not just for you but for all the little girls out there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who will too quickly grow up to obsess over their weight,
their eyebrows and whether or not</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Their hair is curly or straight wishing that if it were
curly it would be straight and if it were straight that it would be curly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How do we convince them that they are wonderful and beautiful
and superheroes?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That they are loved and that they can dance their dance and
we will love it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That they can be dancers and astronauts and fashion
designers or that it’s ok to take a nap if they are tired.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That they don’t need to fit into someone else’s mold.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That they don’t need to be human doings</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That who they are is enough and that they should be allowed
to giggle and hug the dog.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That they can mismatch their socks if they want to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How do we take the gleeful self assured 5 year old and turn
her into a gleeful self assured 15 year old or 25 year old or 50 year old
woman?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Good enough, graceful enough, strong enough, bold enough,
more than enough to just be. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To have the freedom and the joy that is their right and
carries it with them throughout their life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Never to feel that they are found to be not enough because their
legs are chubby or their plies are not perfect.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish somehow I could wrap up the confidence of that little
heart and keep it in a jar to share with you whenever you need it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But already I see the tears when you feel that you don’t fit
in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That you are not enough</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That you are not the
right kind of girl.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The best kind of friend</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That you are not strong enough, or fast enough or pretty
enough or good enough.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hear me …. You are</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
See yourself the way you were, the way you are.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Good enough, superhero good enough.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do not listen to that little insecure voice, that is not
your voice or my voice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is not a good voice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You must know – today and tomorrow and the day after that</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That purple shoes and pink tights and a sparkly tutu are all
you willl ever need … well that and a red cape that makes you a superhero.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-71046223704402396572014-01-02T20:26:00.001-06:002014-01-02T20:26:51.561-06:00What Are You Doing New Years Eve? by Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-L...<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/aSq1cez_flQ" width="459"></iframe>h<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">What are you doing new year's.....I have this song stuck in my head .... and even though new year's eve is past, the song remains - what are you doing new year's? I am a big resolution/goals girl ... I like to make goals and plans .... shoot for the stars and at least you have a chance at hitting the moon. If you don't shoot for anything you won't hit anything at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So I've made some plans for the new year .... I'm planning to read 50 books this year. I'm joining some friends and together or separately together we'll be reading 50 books ... I usually try to do several 20-30 during the summer ....50 seems a very doable goal.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm unplugging some this year .... I have noticed (and my little girl has noticed) that I am often distracted by other things .... on my phone .... when she is talking to me or working on homework or whatever after school .... so although you may see a picture or two crop up here and there for the most part my phone will be in driving mode from 2:45 until 7:00 on weekdays .... love you but I've got some priorities that are a little more important than Facebook statuses.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Eating healthy and getting healthy is a long term goal but I am taking some very definite steps in that direction starting with back to juicing and back to walking (plans for a 5k this year too).<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I will be doing more photography this year. Last year I stepped back from it a bit while working on other creative endeavors but 2014 I will be taking more pics for sure, (some of those 50 books will definitely be photography books)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I plan on doing a lot more writing this year so I am taking two major steps to see that happen .... first of all I have committed to working my way through The Artist's Way course starting today. And I have joined this group ...</span> <a href="http://goinswriter.com/500-words/">http://goinswriter.com/500-words/</a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Another focus for me is minimizing the unnecessary. There are no margins in our lives. We are busy, busy, busy and surrounded by stuff … so I’ll be tossing a lot of unnecessary stuff (although probably not books or dishes) and saying "no" more often. I actually started saying no more last year and although guilt does try to get in there, when there isn't time or there is time but I need it for other things well then sorry … the answer is no. Please understand that it doesn't mean I don't love you or that I don't want to do whatever it is that needs to be done but I have learned that my priority is closer to home and that's where the main focus should be.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">You may notice a lot of self care .... I'll be doing that ...and more importantly spending the time it takes to grow in intimacy with God is my number one priority this year .... and out of that overflow will come creativity and wellness as well. I am planning on some retreats as well as just daily times of soaking, reading and studying. (I have a plan to study Esther in great depth this year after a random encounter with someone last year).<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I know .... its quite a list .... and did I mention white water rafting? .... and a trip to Reunion Island to visit my French daughter? .... stay tuned .... 2014 is going to be absolutely amazing<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p>So what are you doing with your New Year?</o:p></div>trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-49602574975213624562012-11-12T09:19:00.001-06:002012-11-12T09:24:12.856-06:00A Poem for Veteran's Day<script src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=gngbenson"></script>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When the guns are finally silent<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And we all go marching home,</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And those held in bondage are finally set free,</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Will they know and long remember</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That the price was great indeed?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And to their children’s children will they share,</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of battles in dark places where the fields would explode</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">From beneath our feet and high up in the air?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Will their sleep have dreams so gentle</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While we battle night and day, to stop the sounds and</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sights <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> that rage </span>within our
minds?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let them ever then remember, and recall with gentle care </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That the freedom that they hold is precious and so very
rare.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Its been bought with blood and bone, our hearts and thoughts
are altered, </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Give them wisdom then to know and
be aware</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Though the battle may be over, and this victory is won</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That still we soldier on</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For freedom is not free.</span></div>
trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-60174889700325517822012-10-05T09:15:00.000-05:002012-10-05T09:46:00.276-05:00<script src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=gngbenson"></script><br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
Wow its been a long time since I've written something and posted here ... I had forgotten the process, the mental acrobatics of it all...the writing and rewriting and editing and rethinking .... but here is this morning's writing.</div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<br /></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fall, </span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> falling, </span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">fallen</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You catch me again</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> and again.</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But I can not see your face,</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I do not understand this grace.</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, through the dark night </span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I toss</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">and turn.</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Seeking answers so <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>loud</strong></span> that I miss your whispered <span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>replies.</em></span></span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally I fade into a fitful sleep.</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yet in the soft light of an early dawn</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">a peace comes.</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I arise to meet the new day,</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">walking a path towards a home I have not seen</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Somehow I know</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">are waiting there for me.</span></div>
trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-64956290136734493482012-04-17T20:06:00.000-05:002012-04-17T20:06:35.557-05:00It's A Gift<a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=gngbenson" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=gngbenson&s=party" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=gngbenson></script> <br />
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"It's a gift," God whispered. But Naomi would not hear. Wrapping her pain around her like a cloak she entered the city gates.<br />
"Don't call me Naomi," she told her friends who had come to greet her. "Call me Mara because the Almighty has made my life very bitter."<br />
"It's a gift," God whispered. But they did not hear and only saw a foreigner in their midst.<br />
"They burn their babies, don't they?" They gossiped among themselves. But the Moabitess pretended not to know what they were saying and tended her mother-in-law, sharing all she had in kindness and gentleness, working long hours in the fields to keep them both fed.<br />
"It's a gift," God whispered and Boaz hearing could not believe his good fortune.<br />
"My daughter, don't be afraid. I will do for you all you ask." He said to Ruth as he hurried to the city gate.<br />
It's a gift," God whispered and then they all saw.<br />
"Then Naomi no longer bitter took the child in her arms and cared for him and they named him Obed. He was the father of Jesse, the father of David."trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-42153700650973339402011-10-27T12:37:00.000-05:002011-10-27T12:37:53.686-05:00Moments in time...standing on a chair looking down at all the children playing out in the yard<br />
I think I was 5<br />
<br />
walking up and down those steep hills to get home from school<br />
I was 7 there were no hills but they seemed like hills to me<br />
<br />
walking along a busy street with two friends headed to school, sand and palm trees along the way<br />
I was 9<br />
<br />
Playing baseball in the street after the street lights came on<br />
I was 11<br />
<br />
scoring 7 straight points off our rival volleyball team and making the paper<br />
I was 13<br />
<br />
playing in an orchestra at blossom music festival<br />
I was 15 <br />
<br />
so long ago but all I have to do is close my eyes and I can see it, I can hear it, I can feel it.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Counter</font></a>trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-4314987080832130002011-10-24T13:30:00.002-05:002011-10-24T13:30:53.642-05:00from a random prompt - something wrappedSomething wrapped sits on my doorstep. Where it has come from I’m not quite sure. I didn’t hear a delivery truck pull in. Surely if it had the dogs would have started their barking and yapping, but no not a peep. And it certainly wasn’t there this morning when Devon had left for the office and the girls had dashed for the bus. I peeked again through the side window. Still there, 2 feet square wrapped in red and white polka dot paper with a black and white bow affixed to the top.<br />
Silly really, I should just go and open the door and pick up the box. Perhaps it’s not for me at all but mistakenly delivered to the wrong address. Or maybe it is for me, something special to celebrate this Monday. There is a bit of anxious wrapped all around it and just a smidge of fear and yes some excitement. I start to walk to the door but the phone rings and I run to answer it.<br />
I’ve been so distracted these days. You would think the box would have kept my attention but no. There was the phone and then emails, and it was only when I was making some lunch that I remembered and went again to the door.<br />
Pausing for a moment, “this could change everything,” some little voice whispered in my head. But practicality pushed the thought aside. What could possibly be in a box that size that could really have much of an affect on anything?<br />
I bent down to pick it up surprised at the weight and carried it to the table. My name was written in calligraphy on the tag. Open me, printed in box letters on the other side. Feeling a bit like Alice through the looking glass I begin to open the box slowly and suddenly a door in the floor of my life opens and I found myself falling, falling, falling down the white rabbit’s hole. <br />
<br />
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Come here somehow <br />
In the lonely hours<br />
In our desperate days <br />
We call out and we say,<br />
Oh Lord,<br />
Come near come now,<br />
Come here, somehow.<br />
<br />
In the dark and alone<br />
I find You are there <br />
I am loved and assured <br />
I know that you care<br />
<br />
On I go through my days<br />
The time soon slips away<br />
When I lay down in bed<br />
I hear this song in my head<br />
<br />
Come near, come now,<br />
Come here some how<br />
Through the nights<br />
And the days<br />
You call my heart and You say,<br />
Oh love,<br />
Come near, Come now<br />
Come here somehow.<br />
<br />
<br />
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I hear your laughter further down the path as I sit amongst the tiny teacups.<br />
Come back, come home. It is too soon for you to be gone.<br />
But there is no reply as I stare mournfully up the garden walk.<br />
The swing set sits still, no pumping legs, no pointing toes.<br />
I recall the picnics under the willow tree of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut in the shapes of butterflies.<br />
Where have you gone to my lovely, my princess?<br />
With a flurry and a fuss you come running through the door, breathless and excited and bigger than I recall, like Alice after she drank something.<br />
“Can’t stop! Can’t chat! Headed to the masquerade!“ She is followed by her young friends already hidden behind masks of their own.<br />
Stop! Wait! I want to say, No need to hide yourself behind that mask to fit in. But she is gone again, golden tresses flying behind.<br />
I sit with the bear and rock in our chair and miss you.<br />
Where have you gone to my dearest, my princess?<br />
Grown to fast, gone too soon! <br />
Will you remember that you are the prettiest girl I know and my very favorite, pinky swear, girl I love?<br />
Come home, don't go! It cannot be time for you to leave already.<br />
Do not let the princess in you disappear!<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
I wish I had a dragon <br />
I wish I had a dragon to ride across the skies,<br />
To fly above the mountains to the place the sunset lies.<br />
<br />
I wish I had a dragon, I'd never need to fear.<br />
'Fore when mounted on this mighty beast no danger would draw near.<br />
<br />
I wish I had a dragon to fly far and fast and free,<br />
Beyond the bonds of duty, of who I ought to be.<br />
<br />
We'd fly below the sunrise.<br />
We'd skim across the seas.<br />
We'd soar up with the eagles,<br />
Or just drift upon the breeze.<br />
<br />
I'd stop and stare in wonder at all the places I could go.<br />
Places that are magical that others do not know.<br />
<br />
I'd find a shining castle hidden high up in the clouds,<br />
And stay a day, a week or more; until we tired of the crowds.<br />
<br />
Then I would mount my dragon, and she and I would soar,<br />
To some other wondrous place, upon a distant shore.trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-33938969525290358462011-06-08T16:53:00.001-05:002011-06-08T16:54:37.429-05:00June 8 - 300 wordsMy mother was a beautiful, Jewess. My earliest memories were of sitting beside her staring into the mirror trying to see something in me that looked like her. I had inherited my father’s fair skin, his blue eyes, even his dimples.<br />
“That’s Jack Callahan’s daughter” they would say, as we would walk past on the way to the market. “She’s the spittin’ image of Jack.” <br />
I loved my father with every part of my being. He was a bear of a man; He was 6’ 3” tall and weighed 230. He could lift my mother high above his shoulders with just one hand. He loved us both so deeply, so dearly. <br />
“My two beauties,” he called us. When we laughed he would say it sounded like the tinkling bells. The one thing I did share with my mother was her beautiful laugh. My dad made us laugh long and often. <br />
Our home was safe, fun and so different from that all of my friends. We had Hanukah and Christmas, Passover and Easter. Our house was a place of celebration we had holidays twice as often as anyone I knew. Friends would gather to celebrate everything, anything or nothing at all. <br />
Life was so good. <br />
We didn’t even know how good it was until the Main Street fire. I was eight. It was two weeks before Christmas. When that fire took my dad nothing was ever the same. It seemed that “it was always winter and never Christmas” after that. I can’t imagine that it was cold and dark for the next several years but it seemed to be that way to me. Even now looking back I can not recall anything but winter until I was almost 15. No more laughter, no more fun, the sound of the bells silenced.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Counter</font></a>trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-40535703878641831732011-06-06T09:26:00.000-05:002011-06-06T09:26:10.088-05:00June 6th - A piece called 300 words (it actually has 378 words)300 Words<br />
<br />
300 words how hard can that be? That’s all I need to write today. Just before I slip off to dreamland whole reams of words come flowing out. There is character development, plot, and subplot. Every bit of the story flows so easily. It’s real, tangible and oh so good. There never was a better story written, wonderful, touching, grand, emotional, impacting! The critics will say striking, deeply felt, poignant. My novels will be bestsellers for weeks, even months on end. My poetry will be deep, or amusing or fresh. My children’s stories, every one of them a Caldecott winner. My screenplays will be Golden Globe and Oscar winners!<br />
I know what to say and how to say it so that it will strike an emotional chord with the reader. My mysteries will be, well, mysterious. My love stories will be no less than lovely. I can see them. I can hear them. I can feel them.<br />
The one thing I can’t seem to do is write them. The words come easily as I lay prone upon my bed or when I’m standing in the shower. They just flow when I’m driving in the car. The characters are brilliant. They are wonderful, engaging and multifaceted. They are people you want to know.<br />
I head off to my office to write the words down and suddenly find myself playing games or checking emails, or picking up the laundry or making a PB&J for my little girl. I finally settle in and focus but the words won’t come. The brilliant thoughts and ideas disappear as quick as an ice cube in the Texas sun. My sentences are stilted, my thoughts convoluted, my ideas unclear, murky muddled. <br />
What was I thinking? I don’t know how to write. I can’t do this thing. There is not a creative bone in my body. I have been kidding myself. I don’t have anything to say, It is foolishness I tell you! <br />
I flounce off to the other room and lay on the couch and a story begins to unfold of a lovely writer held captive by an evil wizard named Life that steals her words and holds them trapped in a bottle until nightfall when they escape and visit her while the wizard sleeps.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Counter</font></a>trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-48823864024311390682011-06-04T13:04:00.002-05:002011-06-04T13:04:40.765-05:00June 4 - 300 wordsHot. It was hot. The energy sucking, breath stealing kind of hot that made it nearly impossible to get anything done, getting up out of the chair to get another glass of lemonade was an event of extreme human effort. The sun beat down on the asphalt causing a mirage and for the 100th time that week Alison wondered what in the world had possessed her to move from her lovely beach house in Malibu to this west Texas town.<br />
Ordinarily she would not be this miserable. Ordinarily the air conditioner would be working and she would not be suffocating in this heat. But these were not ordinary times, for a solid week Abilene had been hammered by storm after storm. Not one but four tornadoes had caused damage in various parts of the town during the past week. Thankfully no one had been killed. Although the sky was clear now, as it had been almost every morning, the weatherman again was predicting another round of “hail producing thunderstorms with the possibility of tornadoes and flash floods” for later that afternoon and well into in the evening.<br />
The storm Tuesday night had knocked out the power temporarily but Wednesday’s storm had literally destroyed several transformers and felled lines affecting all areas on the east end of Abilene. It was Saturday and she was seriously considering booking a flight back LA to escape it all. Her only concern was her horses. The last two nights there had been flooding along the stream that ran across the further end of her property. If the waters rose higher it would put the barn in jeopardy. AmberLee, her favorite horse was getting ready to foal in a couple of weeks and Alison did not want to leave the horse until the foal had arrived.trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-51247342109333015292011-06-02T09:39:00.003-05:002011-06-02T09:40:16.877-05:00June 2 300She sleeps, her tattered sheep loved hard and long beside her, her bear blanket pinched between her fingers satin side up so she can rub it against her skin as she turns or moves from one dream to the next. Her hair lies softly about her face, a golden brown frame. Her skin is soft as chenille, with a glow that emanates from within her in the pale moonlit room. Her breathing is easy through her full, pale, pink lips, her breath faintly reminiscent of the scent of an angel.<br />
Through the night, in the monitor, I hear her talking in her sleep of flying ponies, laughing, or singing part of some happy song. There is the occasional nightmare where she cries because the ladybug has flown away or someone has taken her doll. Her tears rolling, large upon her sun kissed cheeks. Then I take her to our bed where she tosses and turns and pushes and pulls until she has taken up the most room she can and has all the covers to herself.<br />
Finally after one too many groans from her papa as she again flops her arm on his head, I take her back to her bed. She doesn’t want to go, but I insist. So I sit beside the bed rubbing her back gently until she makes her way back to dream land. She tries to prolong the time by tossing and turning and attempting to ask one more question. <br />
“Go to sleep baby,” I whisper. Finally she does and I stumble back to my own bed smiling at her sweetness. My dreams far less wonderful, my nightmares far more dangerous, my wish that her dreams remain forever sweet and innocent and her nightmares no more scary then her ice cream falling on the ground<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Counter</font></a>trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-92171018908251537252011-06-02T09:34:00.002-05:002011-06-02T09:38:10.881-05:00June 2 - 300 wordsShe sleeps, her tattered sheep loved hard and long beside her, her bear blanket pinched between her fingers satin side up so she can rub it against her skin as she turns or moves from one dream to the next. Her hair lies softly about her face, a golden brown frame. Her skin is soft as chenille, with a glow that emanates from within her in the pale moonlit room. Her breathing is easy through her full, pale, pink lips, her breath faintly reminiscent of the scent of an angel.<br />
Through the night, in the monitor, I hear her talking in her sleep of flying ponies, laughing, or singing part of some happy song. There is the occasional nightmare where she cries because the ladybug has flown away or someone has taken her doll. Her tears rolling, large upon her sun kissed cheeks. Then I take her to our bed where she tosses and turns and pushes and pulls until she has taken up the most room she can and has all the covers to herself.<br />
Finally after one too many groans from her papa as she again flops her arm on his head, I take her back to her bed. She doesn’t want to go, but I insist. So I sit beside the bed rubbing her back gently until she makes her way back to dream land. She tries to prolong the time by tossing and turning and attempting to ask one more question. <br />
“Go to sleep baby,” I whisper. Finally she does and I stumble back to my own bed smiling at her sweetness. My dreams far less wonderful, my nightmares far more dangerous, my wish that her dreams remain forever sweet and innocent and her nightmares no more scary then her ice cream falling on the ground<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/" target="_top"><font color="#666666">Free Counter</font></a>trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-89857072881371803202011-06-01T16:22:00.000-05:002011-06-01T16:22:06.645-05:00The first 300 of thirtyDearest Iris,<br />
<br />
Have you had heard about Wayne’s illness? I wanted to bring you up to speed since my last letter. Spring had been in full bloom here. The trees were a riot of flower blossoms. All the greens were vibrant and the birds were chirping. There was hope in the air but inside our home it had become darker and darker.<br />
Wayne had been having pains in his arms and there was no understanding it. He would become tired easily and his breathing was oftentimes labored. He has always been very active so sitting and resting was not something he wished to do. All of the symptoms had begun shortly after a hunting trip he’d been on so we assumed he was recovering from that. <br />
When the doctor found the lump there wasn’t fear just a “let’s take care of this” attitude, but after the biopsy the fear came. The doctor directed us to visit his colleague in Nebraska. We set an appointment and flew out two days later. Two agonizing days while the birds chirped and the flowers bloomed and I googled lumps and cancer and men in their 50’s.<br />
Omaha was gloomy and grey and 36 degrees The cold rain did nothing to lift our spirits. Little did we know that we would be spending seven weeks there. Those were some of the darkest days I have ever lived through. We battled against death, cancer and even Wayne’s body. He used drugs, chemotherapy and natural supplements. Spring came to Nebraska late but we were happy to see it as it brought renewed hope to our spirits<br />
We arrived at home yesterday. Summer had arrived while we were. gone and I smiled as I looked around the place. It was time to get on with living.<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Dollytrying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-54090686894169606432011-04-20T16:04:00.000-05:002011-04-20T16:04:21.887-05:00April National Poetry MonthI haven't been here for a while but I did post three poems on my other blog so I thought I should put them up here as well:<br />
<b><br />
Dreaming </b><br />
There was something in his eyes <br />
That caught me suddenly by surprise.<br />
"Eat one of these and then drink that" <br />
I watched him turn into a cat.<br />
An elephant then appeared,<br />
You might have thought it would seem wierd.<br />
But no,<br />
We hardly thought it strange at all <br />
To see a mouse more than 10 feet tall.<br />
Our lunch was purple mango leaves <br />
On plates made from golden sheaves.<br />
"I'll leave you now," he said to me<br />
Beneath the blooming apple tree.<br />
I watched him as he stole away.<br />
The butler came and cleared the tray.<br />
And now I sit beneath the moon,<br />
waiting for the fiddler's tune<br />
To call the rocking boat to shore<br />
And take me past forevermore.<br />
<b><br />
Fairies </b><br />
If you had thought to look<br />
Just beyond the silver brook,<br />
You may have met a chatty jay<br />
Who would have led you down the way<br />
To the meadow, green and gold<br />
Where, I'd often heard it told -<br />
By those who seem to know it well -<br />
Is the place the where the fairies dwell.<br />
If you take the time to gaze<br />
Through the early evening haze.<br />
You will see them flit and fly<br />
Until they've fairly filled the sky.<br />
Some scoffers will say not true,<br />
But trust me dear, I'm telling you.<br />
It's not birds or bees <br />
That flit and fly around those trees.<br />
I have heard the fairies tinkling laughs,<br />
And felt the swish as they've flown passed.<br />
One afternoon I fell asleep <br />
Beneath the giant alder tree.<br />
I woke just as the moon began to rise.<br />
Right there before my very eyes<br />
The fairy princess took her place<br />
Upon her throne of Queen Annes lace.<br />
The other fairies also came.<br />
To my surprise they knew my name.<br />
They wished me well and on my way,<br />
And so I left though I would've liked to stay.<br />
But often you will find me here <br />
So if you'd like we can both draw near,<br />
To see if there are fairies again to see,<br />
In the haze near the alder trees.<br />
<br />
<b>Time </b><br />
Come with me when nights are dark<br />
And we will sing with the meadowlark.<br />
Come with me down to the shore<br />
And we will laugh and sing some more.<br />
I want our time to last and last<br />
But you are growing far to fast<br />
So tonight we will catch fireflies.<br />
Tomorrow, we'll chase flutterbyes.<br />
We'll spend our summers at the lake<br />
I will teach you how bake.<br />
We'll make our wishes on the stars,<br />
Catch tadpoles and keep them in a jar,<br />
Together we will watch the clouds change shape<br />
You will wear magic cape.<br />
Time will pass ... until too soon.<br />
I will miss you beneath a harvest moon.<br />
But when the night is very dark<br />
My heart will hear you sing with the meadowlark.trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-48605042640228894952011-01-24T16:34:00.001-06:002011-01-24T16:41:38.929-06:00I will declare these truths!Here I stand at break of day,<br />
Ready for what may come my way.<br />
But there is one who dwells in dark<br />
who is set for battle - weapons out.<br />
My enemy desires a fight.<br />
He's planned and strategized all night,<br />
and so he taunts me with past sin,<br />
but I've no need to enter in.<br />
He may be strong, but truth's stronger still.<br />
Though he knows past weaknesses, all his truths are lies.<br />
I am not now who I once was, I will not partner when he tries,<br />
To come to me with words accusing,<br />
tormenting or abusing.<br />
I will stand, no matter what is said<br />
And declare truths meant to crush his head<br />
Of who I am as God's dear one.<br />
Truths of strength against all sin.<br />
Rruths that stand amidst the self condemning din.<br />
I am the head and not the tail.<br />
My God is good and never fails.<br />
He take good care of me, he's always near.<br />
He keeps me from defeat and fear. <br />
I have no need to fear of lack.<br />
He brings me joy, He's got my back.<br />
<br />
So with head up I'll walk today,<br />
And send Satan on his way.<br />
I declre these truths and say,<br />
My soul will prosper and not fall away.<br />
Whats more I'll bring these truths to those<br />
who haven't heard or havent known<br />
that God has made a way for them<br />
a rescue from the pain of sin.<br />
How to enter his gentle peace<br />
and make the condemntaion cease,<br />
to bring his healing and his love<br />
Not from me but from above.<br />
The truth is what will win the day<br />
No might of mine will do.<br />
So as I go on along my way I will declare these truths!trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-47805372329017293322011-01-09T06:58:00.005-06:002011-01-09T09:11:02.393-06:00I wonderI wonder how this could be. <br />
How one so young and strong could so quickly lie in sweet repose. <br />
The battle lost against a cell that would not die and now has brought him low. <br />
And now I ache and question why?<br />
Were our prayers not strong<br />
or long enough to defeat the death that should have no sting?<br />
Was my love too weak, distracted by much lesser things?<br />
I know that You are able to defeat the one that stole this son<br />
And so I wonder...<br />
How amidst our pain you would not step in and wage the battle that would raise him from his bed?<br />
My questions midst my grief, double edged,<br />
for I believed against what was seen that the victory would be won<br />
not on the otherside but here<br />
In full view of all <br />
that You would raise him up, <br />
straight and tall<br />
before <br />
not <br />
after.<br />
<br />
And what of lesser things that fill my prayers everyday…<br />
What does this mean in regard to those?<br />
Is there hope on this side that You will hear and answer while the day is still light<br />
for things not nearly so consuming as the hope for life?<br />
I know your nature is true and good and that he is well within your grasp <br />
But I am here amidst the pain <br />
As I ache and mourn, and try to comprehend <br />
Stung by this, <br />
Can I trust you still for bread, and health<br />
Hope, for winning battles small?<br />
I wonder how this could be.trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-53376657661740980112010-11-24T16:42:00.000-06:002010-11-24T16:43:09.019-06:00such a ridiculous storyShe was of that age of irrelevance in her society, not yet married but soon to be where only men held esteem and were valued. What she had to say was of little value to those around her and when her “situation” became more apparent it seemed almost everyone had something to say about it. Her neighbors couldn’t believe she was “that kind of girl” and her parents were so horrified they would barely look at her. Her mother’s eyes conveyed the message “how could you do this to us?” in shrill tones. The young men eyed her in a way that made her want to cover herself and even the Roman soldiers seemed to know something. Her friends judged and misjudged her in whispered and not so whispered tones. <br /> She had tried to tell them but they would not listen or believe. So she held her head up and looked them in the eye. They thought it was rebellion and defiance. They didn’t know that she carried God very God within her, the Uncontainable one contained within her young womb. That she would soon give birth to the one who would bring healing to the nations, life to those who were dead. That power and presence and love unimaginable was about to be born on a stable floor, as a baby. They did not believe, how could anyone believe such a ridiculous story?trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-85187503920958014392010-11-16T09:36:00.003-06:002010-11-16T09:51:22.746-06:00drowning"Can you walk on water?" I shook my head. "You're sure?" I rolled my eyes. We had been over this how many times? Besides there was nothing that looked even remotely close to water. I was standing knee deep in a quagmire of quicksand, and sinking further with every passing moment. My only obvious way of escape was a rope, tied to a tree, well beyond my reach.<br /> "Well how do you propose to get yourself out this time?" The voice in my head was getting more than a little annoying at this point.<br /> "I've no idea, as far as I can tell this is about to be my demise." I stated flatly and outloud if only to drown out the voice in my head.<br /> "I think you may be being a bit overdramatic at this point don't you? We've been in much worse situations then this in the past." I knew the voice was right but at this point in time it didn't really seem to matter. This felt worse only because it was at the moment, bad - really, really bad. "Are you willing to let me handle it?" The voice asked surprisingly quietly at the point.<br /> "Sure, go ahead, I've no answers so I leave it in your good hands." I said sounding a bit more sarcastic then necessary.<br /> "Thank you." the voice replied. I felt two strong hands reach under my armpits and yank me out with one swift pull. <br /> "Thank you," I reponded gratefully. <br /> "You could have done that sooner." I said abit acusingly. As usual there was no reposnse from the voice.trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-15933120727997160762010-09-12T08:34:00.002-05:002010-09-12T16:47:08.170-05:00John 8:1-11 my versionWhen they had first come to see her they had spoken as if they had known and understood her, but their words and supposed well intentions had all been lies. She had known that she was guilty, but that was just the beginning of the torment. She and had tried to hide from the whispers and the mockery and the threats. The masks and isolation had worked for awhile but even that became unbearable. When they had finally come for her, she was almost relieved to know that the pain would finally come to an end, even it meant her death. She had attempted to resist them at first, but eventually they had worn her down. Her heart and her spirit broken, she was too worn out and weak to fight any further.<br /> They knew her well, who she was and what she had done and though she tried to keep herself hidden from the stares of the people, her accusers had made her a public spectacle. Dragging her through the streets, she had on occasion looked for compassion and even reached out for help more than once, but the people either stared at her or turned away. Finally, coming into the temple they threw her down in the dirt, her clothes dirty and torn, her body bruised and bleeding. Then they moved to separate themselves from her, picking up stones as they went and finally they turned to Jesus. The leader among them began to speak.<br /> “This woman,” he began, his disgust and disdain wrapped around every word. “This woman was caught in sin. Not just one, mind you, but so many of them and she did them willfully and repeatedly, oftentimes without any apparent remorse or regret.” The speech had been well rehearsed. He had purposed to show the proper air of superiority and righteousness as he gave it. Although his words were spoken loudly so everyone in the crowd could hear and give their approval, he looked directly at the teacher as he put great emphasis on his final statements. “Your law demands such persons should be stoned for their sin. What do you say?” <br />The sneer of his lips just barely hidden as he waited for the death sentence to be handed down. He had picked up the largest, roughest stone, just waiting for the honor of being able to throw it first.<br />Jesus bent down and began to write in the sand. He wrote the same words over and over like a schoolboy at lessons. There was a murmuring through the crowd and the chief accuser demanded an answer. Jesus stood and looked at the crowd. He knew them well, behind every face were the same fears and guilt of the broken woman before him. He gestured to the words written at his feet and then bent down to begin to write again. <br />She held her breath, she heard the stones falling on the ground but none of them seemed to come near. It was so quiet and then he spoke to her gently. <br />“Here, let me help you up.” He reached for her hand. “Where are they? Does no one condemn you?”<br />“No one,” she answered, her voice shaking, her hand clenched at her side.<br />“No one?” he asked again gently, reaching toward her hetook her clenched hand. She looked up into his face and opened her hand. The jagged rock already covered with some of her blood. He took it from her and dropped it. She looked down at her feet and read the words written there: This one is mine and I love her, her debt is paid, her sin is covered, she is free. “Go then with nothing lacking, and nothing broken live the life I have meant for you to live.”trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-713737522969495069.post-37003534595328361172010-08-13T09:38:00.001-05:002010-08-13T09:40:02.191-05:00and another<a href="http://bit.ly/bln9GL">here</a>trying to write ...http://www.blogger.com/profile/00392798039994083310noreply@blogger.com0