Don't Be A Zit on the Face of God

Like melted fake Velveeta cheese, her words stuck to my soul and no amount of SOS or scraping seemed to get them to leave. My frustration was mounting. So, I did the only thing that I knew to do and I’ve sat with them, asking my Creator for truth; resolution; and a plan. She was from one church and I was from another and there were unbelieving observers. Both of our end goals were the same, so I wasn’t sure what the “issue” really was. I chatted some more with God. His final answer was, “Don’t be zits on my face!” Now that may seem odd or even funny to some of you, but truly it stopped me short.

Essential Elbows

I was 15 and he was 16 the day he gently whispered, "Nice Elbows" as he slid past me on the grand staircase of King's Garden High School. I glanced backwards to see who would make such an odd comment. To my surprise, the eyes that met mine were the most liquid blue, kind, mischievous and twinkling eyes I had ever encountered.

That "ONE" silly, offhanded comment settled into my consciousness and etched itself onto the walls of my mind 42 years ago. Over the years, it often has brought a smirk to my face. It has also made me ultra aware of my elbows.

I have never really examined my elbows until recently. They are pretty amazing inventions.

Necklace, + Tats + Ms. T. = Sacred Moments

Silence fills her car as I drive it towards the unknown destination. It is an address on a sticky note. I am in a foreign state; unknown city; and odd place. My thoughts are like a dragonfly on steroids, zipping wildly through my brain. Unable to direct them or even pause them and too tired to care, I just let the cacophony play. Unlike a beautiful symphony, the chorus is dissident and erratic. It makes my head pound, but I can’t stop it. The vehicle reaches the destination that I was instructed to go to. Automatically, I get out of the car and hesitantly walk toward the only door in sight.

Chewing on Insulation

He zipped past me intent on slaying some imaginary villain.  Silently, I stood observing his actions. He was completely unaware of my presence.  Costumes can come in handy, especially if there is a mask involved.  They hide one’s true identity.  When we see a child dressed up, we instantly know that they are pretending to be someone that they are not.  Truth be told, I wanted to grab a cape; don a mask and enter into his imaginary world.  But, instead I stood as still as a tombstone observing his every move.

Copy of Ever Wonder What Mordecai’s Wife Was Thinking?

Click on the link and have a listen.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMtLuvILnrc. Life is about choices, perspective, and surrender.  Here is the story of Esther told by Mordecai’s wife.  Both ladies could’ve chosen to view everything they faced as either roadblocks or detours to what they thought God’s plan was for their lives.  Instead, they embraced all these incidents as God rerouting their lives according to His untangled view. 

Ever Wonder What Mordecai’s Wife Was Thinking?

Click on the link and have a listen.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMtLuvILnrc. Life is about choices, perspective, and surrender.  Here is the story of Esther told by Mordecai’s wife.  Both ladies could’ve chosen to view everything they faced as either roadblocks or detours to what they thought God’s plan was for their lives.  Instead, they embraced all these incidents as God rerouting their lives according to His untangled view. 

You Are Not Alone

Mostly naked, in a room the temperature of an ice cube tray, my body lies tightly cocooned under the soft yellow blanket.  Sleeping with both windows open, nature's morning choruses float in and slowly bring me to consciousness.  Sailing along on the crest of the song sparrow's solo, I continued drifting into and out of consciousness, not yet ready to greet the day.  Like the aftermath of an nuclear explosion, silence suddenly falls hard into the airspace and shakes me from my slumber.

The Birth of Emotional Cancer

In the stillness of this metal cage, I hear truth from the one who made me.  YOUR feelings and perceptions are based on lies that you have allowed the enemy of your soul to whisper in your ear.

Writing on the Walls; My Secret Addiction; and Untainted Truth

What is it that God has made clear to you and you have chosen to ignore?  Maybe He hasn't written it on the wall, chalkboard, or chair but you know He is speaking untainted truth to you and you need to humble yourself and return to Him.  Why not stop right now and surrender.  He can be counted on to forgive and bathe you in His mercy and grace.

Thresholds; Invisibility Cloak; and A Precious Dove

Stepping over the classroom threshold, my body jolts to a halt. Like a hummingbird not seeing the sliding glass door, I am thrown up against an invisible barrier. Oddly, not one ten-year-old head turns to acknowledge my entrance.  Each young participant's eyes are locked on a particular student.  There are words being released into the air, but they do not reach my ears.  She is calling on individuals, but I am momentarily deaf.

Swimming in Riptides; Unfiltered View Master Reel; and the Gift of Presence

My mind is occupied by the bits of information I just received hours ago. Mentally, I am swimming in a strong riptide attempting to get to shore.  Like the brakes of a car skidding to a halt only inches from the unsuspecting pedestrian, my feet freeze in mid-stride.  I attempt not to run over these two precious ones who have stopped just inches in front of me.  Evidently, they are unaware that I am there.

Perpetual Purging; Constipation; and Caustin Perfectionism!

My heart is a very delicate thing that must be perpetually purged of things that distract it. Therefore, I HAVE to write to purge my soul of all the feelings this journey evokes and of all the whisperings from my God.  I HAVE to write to remind myself, of His promises given to me.  I HAVE to write to allow others to know that they are not alone.  I HAVE to write because that is one of the things God made me to do.

Hijacked Feet!

Like an old fashioned Jack-in-the Box, whose crank has been turned one two many times, she pops up and bolts for the hall.  I follow her. Three steps in, I interrupt her escape with my words (and hand gestures).

My Succulent, Silent Secret

As silent as a sleeping boa, I slide my secret into the bathroom drawer.  I am deliriously ashappy as a child with a secret stash of candy.  Every time I think about my secret, my heart dances and twirls. My secret is not wrong or sinful.  In fact, it's honestly kind of silly.  It is just that I don't want to share it with anyone. So, it is just my sweet secret for now.