tumble
They say that once you’ve learned to ride a bicycle, you’ll never forget. Why then, is it so easy to fall off a wagon?
The wagon should be easier.
Still, I tumble.
Or I don’t quite fall, only wish to.
Why do I do the things I do, indeed.
Rhyme Time- Fall 2
Submit a short, rhyming poem about fall… (4 lines)
My entries:
Who set the trees on fire, leaves becoming flames?’
Twas Mother struck the match, for the chill to tame.
As embers fall from branches bare, inscribed with each our names
Remember life’s more beautiful when no Two are the same.
~8th place, Jury Pick- SCORE: 5.821~
Ruby and Royal, Blaze and Gold
Autumn’s colors lift my soul
I am reminded once again
That many colors make good friends!
~10th place, Jury Pick-SCORE: 5.73
Apple Cider, Apple Pie
Apple Picking, Way Up High
Caramel, Cinnamon and Candied too,
Apples’ Fall for me and you!
~11th place, SCORE: 5.7
A rhyming poem of Fall, you ask?
Surely, I say, ye jest!
For out of Autumn’s earthen hues
I like purple and orange the best.
~28th place (out of 29), SCORE: 3.944
born knowing
I have a lot of questions and qualms. Sometimes I am suspicious of Paul ( the Apostle, not my uncle) and there are times that without question, I know nothing about God at all.
I can’t commit to a church. I am judgemental. I want to be a Chief more than an Indian.(unless of course it’s Chiefs you need, then I am just too lazy or unprepared for real responsibility and play the part of renegade cowboy(girl) instead.) I question the way church has been done yet I am reluctant to embrace doing things too differently. I like coffee house atmospheres in church but have strict expectations about “money changing in the temple” (I rebuke the selling of Thomas Kincade prints in church by the ‘thority vested in me alone )~I have none such authority~
Despite all of this, regardless of what flavor our worship is on any given Sunday(Saturday is fine by me too!) baptisms never fail to move me.
For me, it is JUST like watching a newborn baby take their first breath.
After I had my children, I lost the ability to watch documentaries about pregnancy and newborns without weeping. When I see a baby born-any baby-I am reflexively pulled back to my own experiences and emotions.It is a powerful moment to witness that first wailing breath. I couldn’t aptly describe it with words (not yet anyhow) but it is a knowing of sorts.
That same knowing, but about different things, surges through me when I see someone being baptized, especially through earnest means, like in a swimming pool, or hot tub.
I never grow tired of seeing people-any people-baptized, It is a powerful moment to witness these first steps, these first gasps at life. There is a knowing, as well as hope, love, and giddy inspiration.
Momentum in Ohio put together a montage of recent baptisms that I especially liked when I ran across it. I especially dig its arrangement with Coldplay’s Fix You ( a recent addition to myPod)
lie bumps
“…behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!”
new logo
i don’t think that i have ever felt quite as betrayed…
There are two options-
- knew it would hurt me, WANTED it to … I cannot understand why you choose to hurt someone unless you’ve made up your mind about that person not belonging in a significant role in your life
- figured it might hurt me but the want outweighed that pesky little detail…and that too seems to say “to me, you are insignificant“
It wasn’t done out in the open, maybe that is why I feel so betrayed…seems the plan would be to have the new one in place before any feelings are hurt…not that they seem to matter.
And all this while, I have been thinking I was chosen for the job. That it had more to do with “togetherness” and with “us” than it did “whose looks better”
But I learn most things the hard way and this is no exception.
Kelly feels sad today.
Would It Help?
This forum here- I feel I must excuse, explain it all again- this place is for me. I come here and I scream in the only way I know how. I ask questions that otherwise wouldn’t leave my lips… I fool myself that being here makes it all safe to give a voice.
Dumbo had a feather to help him soar — I have this wee little blog (and additional hang ups that we’ll discuss some other, far off day.)
I probably don’t need this feather, (or those) … but until I am sure, I grasp them tightly in my trunk….
Big Exhale Here.
Would it make a difference, if we listed your sins and excused you from each individually. Is that what you need to happen?
Sex Before Marriage?
Child Out Of Wedlock?
Drunkenness?
Debauchery?
Lewdness?
Lying and Lasciviousness?
Gambling?
Greed?
Lust?
Adultery?
What if there were nothing you could say to make Love go away?
No face too dirty, no act too desperate….
Would bitterness still taunt you? Would you continue to gnash the flesh of all who dare come near you?
It seems to me that no one hates you as much as you hate yourself.
Who are you to hold that against yourself, eh?
What if I told you that there is Someone who loves you even when I must draw the line? Would you want that Love, or do you prefer your state of misery?
You’ve been forgiven despite all that taints your memory, all that haunts your soul… yes, all of it. Would it blow your mind for me to say, you’ve been forgiven for the things you’ve yet to do tomorrow?
Now, if I could only drop this foolish feather, fly up beside you and whisper this in your ear. If only you would hear me and see how beautiful life can be.
Lay down your arms! Cast your burdens all on me….no, no, I mean on Him…
You can- if you would, if you will…
There is nothing to lose besides a crooked crutch- and all the world to gain.
pockets and bad breath
It was one of those highlights of motherhood…booster shots at the health department, last in line and four shots delinquent. There was nothing child friendly in the sparse waiting room, only the vending machines served as a distraction, and then, not for long.
The walls were papered with the typical bi-lingual informative posters,with topics ranging from cancer to teen pregnancy; a child could learn a lot ( too much!) just waiting on school booster shots.
One poster had briefly caught my eye, advertising a teen smoking hot line, fringed at the bottom with little rip off numbers- handy for any who may want to call in for help. I wondered whether it was a very effective medium with which to reach out to others- I wondered if anyone ever called.
My eldest sidled up to me, freshly returned from his latest venture to the vending machine (” If I HAD money, I’d buy that bag of chips…”) and handed me one of the aforementioned phone number slips.
He said, ” This is for Daddy, it says ‘Need help quitting?’ and Dad does, so I’ll give him one and he can call it”
He went on to explain ” You know, for his drinking and that, well, you know, that breath he comes in with. . . it’s bad”
I told him that, HE, Chandler, would have to be the one that opened that particular can of worms…
He promptly got 4 or 5 more phone number slips and crammed them in each of his pockets, wondering aloud as he re-read the poster ” But I DO wonder what tobacco has to do with drinking”
You see, he had gotten so caught up with the notion that he may have found a solution to something he currently sees as a big problem, he was so taken with the “Get Help Quitting” part the tobacco was secondary and a small matter in comparison.
I thought about a lot of things at this point but thought better to say anything aloud. I was slightly humored, mostly saddened.
The mission was long forgotten and -from what I can tell-abandoned by the time we reached home. There is an issue that remains, but I don’t know how to approach it, or if it would even be worth it to try. But I wish, for starters, that you’d check your son’s pockets-there are questions and fears there, but more importantly, there is love.
"i’m melting…"
i prayed a prayer not too long ago that simply went like this: “Melt me, melt my cold heart and help me to feel again.”Then like the sweating of a great block of ice in the desert, the crying jags began. More than frequent and in public places, I couldn’t dam my eyes though I tried.I laughed through tears, understanding that I was, indeed, melting.When I thought ” I’m Melting” I thought too, of the Wicked Witch who cried those same words when she was doused with water.I thought of MY own wicked witch, within.I smiled some more, though I was still crying quite a bit, for I thought “My wicked witch is melting away, thanks to all this watering.”I then began to emit impurities, like silver in a refinery. I pointed fingers and named names and it all burned to ashes. I felt lighter of my burden than I had in some time and like fine silver, I allowed myself to see it all as added value to my worth.I don’t know where I am headed, or what is over the next hill, but I am reminded time and again- every single day- that I am not walking alone. I am with someone who knows the way.And like a snowman melting in July, I will roll on with the fluidity of water ‘neath my feet, until I’ve reached my Destination.
being myself
i told him it wouldn’t be love
that my name wouldn’t do
and he could call me Bambi
instead
he told me it would be love
whether I wanted it to be
or not
so i let it be,
and i was me
(but being me, i was forced to make a Bambi joke later)
THEN
i dreamed i won a Jr. Miss pageant of some kind
but everyone was ready to leave before they announced the winner
as if it couldn’t possibly be me
which it couldn’t be
because i didn’t even register
and i just kept trying to stall long enough to hear
as if i didn’t think it could be me
either
but it takes so much effort to
climb out of theatre seating
~that was the delay
no glory seeking or vanity on my part
but then i did win and i was glad I was there to hear about it
there may be signifigance here, but I have yet to find it.
(Love, Bambi)
