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Archive for the ‘Postaday’ Category

May this cloud pass swiftly

Give way to skies blue;

Rain’s vital purpose,

To shine things anew

 

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This week I learned too late about the dangers of going cold-turkey off hormone replacement therapy (HRT) for menopause, something I do not recommend doing on your own. Consult your doctor first so they can prescribe a titrating regimen!

Research shows some symptoms actually become worse during the months-long withdrawal and that it can be severe enough to cost some women their jobs, relationships and self-respect, by the time the storm passes.

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Dear God, thank You for seasons and the weather and for moods, all of which are never permanent, but changing and future-bound. May each season usher in new hope, each storm yield new respect and each mood lead to happiness.

Thank You also for wisdom, endurance and unwavering family and friendships which keep us tethered to the palm tree during the brunt of the storm.

And please equip us all with patience to ride things out with grace, compassion, courage and faith, that we might breathe deeply and appreciate the fresh, shiny blue skies after the rain.

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Besides the path of subtropical storm Alberto in my sea right now, I had a little fun finding some twisted in my world…

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Eggshell Tower

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Surfing in Alberto

Hey, God, thanks for all the twists and turns You allow in ouR lives…for ups and downs, ins and outs, zigs and zags and for the calms and storms as well.

In all these twists life takes us on, it’s nice to hang on to You for dear life! Thank You, God, for making life so interesting.

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It is always good to know one’s Place in the World…I am so grateful for mine, and for you joining me here at the sea!

Thanks, God, for respite and sea solace, for giving us a piece of Heaven here on earth in our respective places in the world You’ve provided.

Forgive uS for having strayed from our designated places when we have, and thank You for shepherding us back to where we belong. Your mercy and patience with us is great, and greatly to be praised.

Thank You for the different ways You nurture us with comfort and peace…and for the places that we can be still and know that You are God.

Thanks for giving us a place in the world.

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Who can resist a well-earned Special Olympics smile from a kid who wasn’t supposed to live past age 4?

David turns 18 in 22 days!

Thank You, God, for defying all odds, for playing the ultimate April Fool’s joke on death – showing the universe for once and for all that where death seems inevitable, life rocks on!

That there is no such thing as finality, that You are the only Omega…and Your gift is eternal life. May we always recognize that those things seeming to a close = opportunity for new beginnings in ways we haven’t yet fathomed.

And therein lies faith…and trust. Faith and trust that there is always more in store than we can possibly know or deserve in our finite wisdom. Thanks, God, for perpetual resurrection and preciousness in all things. SMILE!!

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May the Son shine upon Your face…both rising and setting…

Hey, God…Thank You for the setting that we may behold yet another Rising. Thanks for Your promise that those things that disappear and set in the sky, will again appear, rise and shine! That even if the worst case scenario comes true, that we can still count on You to rise again and make full and complete, that which once seemed empty and hopeless.

Thank You, God, for believing first in uS, that we might always believe in You.

Thank You for riches in simplicity.

Lord…Let us all be like this sunrise above, illuminating all that we see, shimmering light on darkness, and dancing reflections of Hope in You and Your eternal light.

Happy Easter, dear Readers!

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If trees could talk! This beached and upended tree perpetuates an intricate Story despite its seeming demise, with its processed planked cousins in a heap to the right…

What story do YOU see here? An end, or a beginning?

A 180 in the sand where I stood, yielded these stories:

Thank You, God, for the old and new stories, perpetual stories, real stories, imaginary stories and the freedom to always create new stories that keep us, that keep life, alive and well and infused with Hope and Faith. That there is always beauty and love and New Life, no matter the level of mayhem, that life itself always springs from death and destruction. That salvation and rejoicing always come after the barrenness of grief, Lent and denial. That there is always light after darkness. Amen.

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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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