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Archive for the ‘Postaday’ Category

Hoax of heart

Back from the start

A loving house of cards

Can’t fix what isn’t

Yours to mend

A mirror, turned to shards

 

White she wore

When pure to core

Took years to get her there

White nails, fit and tan

For him, fulfilled his

Every dare

 

Finally!!

She gave herself

To him, so free and clear

He blessed her with

A ring so dear

Then tapered her worst fear:

 

Pulled the plug

For virtue’s sake

Tuck shirt and straighten tie

Midwest hypocrisy

A farmer’s tan, where rings,

Now gone, ask why?

 

T’was sweet as hyssop

Meant to cleanse

As good herbs always do

But overdose

Now comatose

Beneath the Gulf so blue

 

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tears of sorrow

tears of grief

tears roll daily

no relief

lame distractions

cheapened hope

castaway dreams

frayed rope

perfect storm

of guillotines

natty to rags

ball gowns to jeans

for the better

was the goal

end result

darkened soul

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Baby sea stars like uniformity…they know when their world has succombed to a rip tide.

Sea stars in other oceans benefit from the storms in this ocean, because it assures restoration of calm. Blessings to those sea stars! 

But when the sea stars in storms perceive their mama to be going through grief and storms, the babies know to brace themselves, and act (or act out) accordingly, as though yet another disruption of semblance of normalcy has occurred. 

God help those babies, sedate them till it’s over. Help them pretend another life to protect them from harsh reality. Give them another personality to survive the atrocities.

Oh, what tangled tides we weave…!

Baby, wear those white tights! Wear white always. Cling to the innocence! 


The storm may be upon you and totally not evident (storms are like that, they gather and hover over their prey, giving a taste of sun and then rain and hail all over them in a sudden darkened downpour and vanish like it was your fault for believing all along!)

But keep cheering…keep hoping…storms pass and are cowardly, they retreat and do not maintain intensity. 

Keep the faith, sweet little sea star! Believe those strong storms can save the day! Because if they can’t, God will. God will through His will.

Rest in retired peace, dear sweet ana. God bless You, white virginal garb and all. You gave Your all!

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Evanescent… what a great word!

I had to look it up to be sure I understood its full meaning:

“After you lose a loved one, often you’re gripped with a fear of evanescence, or the rapid fading from sight or memory of that person. Evanescence comes from the Latin evanescere meaning “disappear, vanish…” The evanescence of a shooting star makes it hard to catch — it’s there one moment and gone the next. Evanescence is a word typically used to describe an event that fades from sight or memory, or sometimes the fleeting quality of worldly success.” – from vocabulary.com


Here, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, intoxicated with the illusion of worldly success, is duped by his own overexuberance, naive trust and foolishly, unrealistically high expectations of self and others.

He believes that he has half a chance at snagging half a Ritz cracker (not just any cracker!) out of a hand of a handsome man held steadily, extended for a long enough time to establish Hope and Faith.

The Golden Ritz prize, studded with diamond salt – Diamond Tears – was earnestly offered…but wasn’t really his to be offered in the first place.

Cruel fate!

So you can see how his wings dramatically arched at the last minute to brake (a poetic flash of a few seconds, as if an ethereal few days) realizing all too late that he was going too fast and would have to forfeit his Ritz dream…

…to allow the bird behind him, the bird who knew all along how to take it slow and steady, drama-free, and keep her focus on the prize. Her wings were never quite so flexible – in fact, she looked rather plain and like any bird – “soap and water,” an observer once said of her image.

Let fools go rushing in! You play with fire, you get burned.

But the plain and ordinary bird who was there all along in the wings (no pun intended) and stuck it through without wavering, would get the Ritz. Those attracted to and distracted by the dramatic, beautiful seagull who once wondered aloud of the ordinary bird, “Who would want her?” would be the same ones lining up behind her in the end.

As usual, Jonathan Livingston Seagull would be relinquished to peck at the fallen crumbs under the balcony…the poetic, creative and physically agile wings were of little practical use in the long run. They looked alluring for a flash, but all shooting stars must dissipate or crash.

Why are some birds destined to play their cards right and win the Ritz, and others are destined to constantly scrape and struggle and get only glimpses of Promised Lands? A hard road for both…

The vocabulary.com entry was only the second thing that popped up. Oh-so-fittingly, the very first thing Uncle Google suggested for this week’s Weekly Photo Challenge word…a band with the same name and message:

But even the diamond salt in bitter tears fades….thank You, God, for glimpses of hope, for tastes of buttery, lucious Ritz crackers to savor, if only for a few crumbs!

Thank You for letting us peek over the hill and into the Promised Land, and thank You for those blessed enough to get there and partake in this lifetime, and for those blessed to imagine and for those blessed to dream.

For assuring us that You don’t lie, You deliver in the end and that even if we miss the Ritz in this flight, how much more savory it will be in the next flight. Alleluia, alleluia!

The ending of Jonathan Livingston Seagull:

“To begin with ” he said heavily, “you’ve got to understand that a seagull is an unlimited idea of freedom, an image of the Great Gull, and your whole body, from wingtip to wingtip, is nothing more than your thought itself.”

No limits, Jonathan? he thought. Well, then, the time’s not distant when I’m going to appear out of thin air on your beach, and show you a thing or two about flying!”

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Security…

May a child always trust that his hometown will stand intact…that his brothers will always be there for him…that his footing is secure…and that God will never forsake him no matter what.

IMG_9456

Thank You, God, for the sun always rising and setting, and for everything in between. May we rest securely in the arms of Your promises.

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Magic came early this spring! 

My kiddo, who was supposedly doomed to a vegetative state until his predicted death by age 4, went to the Tim Tebow prom last month with a classy “typical” classmate in a hott pink dress, who donned him with a crown and made him king for the evening.

He turns 17 this April.

Security on the main floor was tight as a drum. We peacock-proud parents, along with well-wishers and assorted spectators, were relinquished to the balcony Atop the main floor of a local Episcopal reception hall balcony. 

Parents reconnected. Teens connected. Souls and dreams flourished…


Dear God, thank you that there is a place in Heaven and here on earth for everyone. 

Help us remember that regardless of health or illness, strength or infirmity, life or death, earth or Heaven, sane or insane, righteous or sinners, we belong to You. 

During this Lenten season, Lord, let us wrap our brains around Your concepts of letting go of convention and embracing what is different, foreign and changed.

Transform us, God, into what You would have us be for You, not for men or earth or the lives we know here on earth.

Shine Your mercy on us, Father, that we might slow Down and cherish every moment, with the faith of Your promises beyond.

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wish for us all to be as happy and blissful as this ceramic-figured window dressing in New Orleans during Mardi Gras:


Thanks, God, for seasons of bliss, mirth and joy.

Please, Lord, help us figure out how to carry this feeling into every dark corner, crevasse and cave…that we may endure and prevail over any hardship we may encounter. 

In this Lenten season, God, please help us to find the happiness and victory that come as a result of the reason for this season. In our imperfections, may we inch towards lauging in the face of fear. 

Let us humble ourselves at the lightness of life which arises out of cruel death itself. Let us emerge from the ashen grave with victory!

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