Random Acts

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…of kindness can really change your day,” Thomas said as he wheeled away from the Bartell Drugs. Impacted by my searching for the B of A across the street on my phone… A simply confusing thing that placed itself like a hurdle that brought the two of us together. So we gathered as I welcomed the pause in my day with grace and thanks that I had time to spare, and he was gracious that I did. 

Random acts, like treasures in the day. You can’t pursue them or else they slip subtly away, they are attracted to the genuine, can’t be bought or sold, and are what they are and always will be, a gift. They are there all around us and if we watch for them, we can be like ointment to sores, fresh water to a thirsty soul, warmth to a cold heart. 

In The Bible, the Apostle Paul wrote in the book of Romans, “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” (‭Romans‬ ‭1‬:‭20‬ NIV)

If you allow yourself to look for it, you’ll see it. And it’s beauty is 

Quick, Free

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Relinquish the constraints, and the focus on the paint chipping, from the frame, the aching of the panes, these windows been stained by the expressions of the past, but somehow the structure still stands, out lasts, to bask in the rays of the sunshine, memories of that one time, the fun times, that seem to only get more cherished, giving us strength to grin and bear it, the uphill grinding, He’s right behind em, encouraging, in courage we walk by weakness, perfected is His teaching in our actions, Jesus give me more of Your passion, to walk it out..

What’s mine…

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Exhale…. I’m practicing being more productive. Waking early and making fully the use of the time that is mine, like money, learning to budget the tics and the tock rather than just a list that I talk about, I hope to take steps to walk it out and watch how I can be a better steward of my days. My time. Taking ownership of what I see as mine, but my seeing doesn’t make it mine, it stays defined not by my perspective but by what it is, not mine, but given as a gift, so it’s still mine but it’s all His.

ENDurance

Blog, Faith, Poetry

Enduring is a trait that is admired from afar, but rejected in person, because it doesn’t look like itself when you first encounter its verses… feeling more like curses- pain mixed with words that speak subliminally. Leaving us minimally present, undermining our faith and leaving fear to be the dictator of the misery. Endurance… end this, “during” time, where the end seems irrelevant, because it’s not here and not now, and ow… or ouch… or how, Lord, HOW? is the chorus we sing out… Yet, somehow, it is woven in us to dumbfound expectations, even our own and reach into this place previously unknown, where we find despite our circumstances… Joy.

Joy is strength, from that deep place of Hope, not hope that we’ll endure, but Hope in the One who endured it all…. ENDing it all when He said, “It is finished”. So our endurance becomes something new, something of a gift, it is present whether physically or just in the promise, but is real like those holes touched by odd Thomas, pause and stop this summing up like it’s nonsense, growing is a process and requires of our conscious choosing regardless of our desire to be proven worthy, presuming early in the game that there will be trials and uphill battles, but as He is in you, the completion is in the starting, not the stopping, keep walking.

Break Ground

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The cross leans on a basket of rocks overlooking the dimly lit living room sectioned off by a second-hand couch that envelopes the room like a mother hen gathering her chicks. He stretches out on the recliner and ponders on whether to write a poem that expresses the thoughts that cake the inside of his brain, unsure if he will be able to excavate their remains from the compacted storage or lose it all in the process… motivated by the possibilities of what he might find, he decides to write. Knowing that there has been a season of drudging, slowly moving through life only to stay slowly behind the to-do, honey-do, and hope-to-do lists… Falling short of what seems to be the personal and professional expectations now piling high on his mind to offer another thing to balance… Heaviness had been the description, fitting like bars in the walls lining the window of his prison, serving like a frame to this depiction where he sits working on the movement of decision, requiring focus and precision…

In the midst, he rewires an internal position that recalls what once was and somehow still is, a heart inscription that seems to come from a time that precedes adolescence, childhood and the prior, something embedded deep inside, a fire woven in to his fiber, some call it desire, others a seed, planted in the soil of faith and trust, placed it must, submerged deep enough, to find the dark, in this quiet is the muffled art, creation, the hands of a gardener relaying the sacred and the tender, fragile pieces royally released, like capsules for some future He foreknew and now is the time for it to proceed… Much happens before the ground has been broken, much relies on our decisions to plant despite what we’re showing or shown in the midst of our surveying… Leaps of faith to plan(t) for successful sprouting are required for shoots to make their way towards the sky, hands lifted high in rejoicing of what has happened, take the time to imagine, what will take place and then don’t waste your gift by hiding it. Break Ground.

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The hard place

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here we go again, it seems. one step forward, backwards three. confidence has dwindled now i crumble to my feet, Lord, help me to see what You have for me… in this. In the midst of it, I am grateful for so much, You hold it all together and redirect storms with a touch, Your hands protect while sculpting and molding, shaping my hands for warfare when the brunt is all I have felt at the hands of warfare, there’s more there, I know it, I suppose my comfort is shaken and I am too engaged to show it, although it is clear to see, back to the mirror, no one more clear than me, i think, as I pursue waves of the ocean, grasped for a second, but slipped away, concrete corroding, being led by emotion, tossed to and fro, which way to go, i don’t know, so I sulk and moan and groan of the floating, until i stand and feel the sand and the land below, been wallowing in the shallow wondering how I stayed afloat.

In my hardest places you see what I don’t.

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Fear

Blog, Faith, Poetry

I don’t want to share what I have because I fear, I fear what may happen that hinders, I fear reactions as tinder of some fire of destruction, I fear distractions and the impending interruptions, I proclaim this fear like a loud percussion declaring my immovability though somehow that never was wanted… To stand here… To wait. Intentions are irrelevant in the face of opposition, but really the shadow of my imagination- I am “just in case” – ing… Encasing any element of chasing, because protection and comfort become supreme and the key to my embracing when fear, is all that I’m evading… Lost in the spiral of control, avoiding the potential for a known lesser even though it’s stressors are active oppressors in my self-created society, sipping its dwelling is a constant, time for sobriety… Taking the risk of sharing, the leap of caring, finding speech to spare for each seed that may be daring to sprout. The soil cries out in the midst of decay, hoping that life will spring forth and have its way, while the fertilizer waits in the breaking down of the old, dormant in it’s smelly abode, what could possibly grow here? But yet we go there, knowing circumstances don’t point to green lights, but the red as I have read is significant in other means, blood covering making murky scenes clean, constantly using things we think are one sided, reminded of what is actually happening as we hear, the voice that matters silence the ones that chatter, there is only One whom we should fear.

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Overdue

Blog, Faith, Poetry

Oh, how I have missed you, been a minute since I spit through lines that came to split through my mind intertwining all that I’ve been through. Been waiting now, weighing me down, preying on my sounds to be silent, speech to be violent instead of residing in His presence, evoking the place when I’m present, when I’m present…this is the moment of which I speak, it’s been a minute since I’ve allowed myself to just be, present where I am, as a present before men, like light shone despite the darkness in spite of what’s hardest I am reminded with my remarks that He is present, He is the present that is presented before men, like light shone before them. Revoking all rights of their enemies to prevent them from freedom. That is the point for my speaking. We cannot control the receiving only what our eyes are choosing to be seeing or looking upon, be holding, what matters most… Jesus.

Help us to see You despite the obstacles, speak in reminders what is possible, through Your Holy Spirit in audible and whispers, causing storms to slow like floating splinters in gradual motion as my mind is hoping alone and solely in Your ability to control it all, You hold it all in Your hand, plans fall to stand only as You call them to, Jesus help me to fear You, living a life in pursuit of You, choosing to stop running away, evading the day, because the pursuit is through. Overdue.

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High Divers

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In the lab, coffee seeming to be the fad in this place of creating, but I can’t deny His creative tendencies yearning to free through speech that I share with each of you listening, please heed this invitation, going back into the memories as a child, when I used to climb that high dive somehow perfecting my wild desire to be free for that moment, seemingly freedom was the only thought that I had as I swan dived into the unknown, only hoped would match my expectation…

As I grew up, I loved the rush of the adrenaline, present in the passion I would ignite with whenever doing things that commanded my attention. Alive and awake was the only intention, somehow driving away the mistakes I’d forget to be letting set a correction, or maintain a connection when times became filled with tension, I disconnected and hoped to find boards to dive off of or courts to run on, give me a different challenge to battle instead of the ones that lied in my head, denying any and ev, ery strength to face the present, somehow buying into the shame, I reacted with attacks of detached presence, playing the victim I would latch onto other perspectives, to justify mine… Just to find time, chasing moments rather than finding my embrace in life, emotional as a child because my motions denied connection, caught in this repeating message of self-protection inter personally, but publicly I channeled attention, whether internally resting in the presence of the many in attendance, I found freedom in the sanctuary of the swimming sessions.

Climbing the ladder as onlookers may have watched with apathetic anticipation, I stepped attentive and found rhythm as I ascended out and down breaking through the crest of each wave… and then you do it again… or until you get the use of the session… i’m good now… I guess I always was but eyes rest reminded as return to field, wondering what I would wield as adventure was temporarily appeased, delaying for one day, a larger leap. High Divers.

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I lift up my head

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Heavy set sight making a lethargic vision, leaving my movement to the sprinting in producing, hoping it stays in tune with something that’s long lasting. I sometimes bask in the asking of questions that pile high like a queue of tickets until I service them one by one and remember the frivolous dimensions given out of frantic positions, I think it’s an addiction. To stress. To worry. It’s more predictable than this un told or finished story, I’m sold on the author but not on the blurry implications in chapters to come, accompanied by this deep desire to leap into the adventure of the hidden, blind folds on and all I can do is listen, believing above all in the mission which is to know Him and believe, so I trust in His lead and anticipate the meet of deep dreams and the surface… And what surfaces comes in surges, culminating in churning mixed with purging, working out what was fixated on the past while calling forth an activation. Application, this morning is in the act of patience. Remaining focused on Him despite any lack I’m facing, trusting and staying.