The Kraken (#3)

(Pssst…In case you missed the first part, you can start from HERE.)

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From: gizemlervebilinmeyenler.blogspot.com and copied from Alejandro Quijano pintrest (Kinda scary, right?)

 

The Kraken

By Robert L. Jones III (check it out at Pneumythology)

III. The Maiden By The Sea

Embodied now in flesh and blood, the lovely sight excelled

His prior expectations and opinions that he held.

His eyes had never looked upon or even understood

Such lithe and graceful comeliness, such perfect womanhood.

 

Her features bore the radiance of clearest northern skies

With hints of sunrise in her hair and sea mist in her eyes.

Cold winds had neither blown upon a form so pure and fair

Nor sung so strange a melody as played within her hair.

 

With nimble steps, she walked the shore, an enigmatic sign,

A creature so impossible to label or define.

Was she a common villager, one born of humble stock,

Or manifest divinity with secrets to unlock?

 

Such questioning consumed his thoughts. Her presence moved him so.

Her look reflected mysteries impossible to know.

Some sort of understanding passed from woman back to boy.

His reason searched for older words his ardor might employ.

 

The silence grew unbearable. The tension left him weak.

The maiden looked with furrowed brow as if prepared to speak,

But her expression then went blank. A faint smile crossed her lips.

She looked down contemplatively, her hands upon her hips.

 

Her suitor took a timid step, as awkward as could be,

And she, in turn, moved back a bit, although reluctantly.

So then he stopped, and so did she. This funny circumstance

Proceeded back and forth awhile, a cautionary dance.

 

Her gentle shoulders shrugged a little every now and then

She smiled at him and looked away, but soon looked back again.

He sensed her recognition then and loved her more because,

This lady had accepted him despite how young he was.

 

Still glancing back, she turned away, still silent as before,

To wander several feet from him, now drawn by ocean’s roar.

Upon a rocky point she stood, ten feet above the waves.

The white caps peaked like headstones marking long-forgotten graves.

 

Not far offshore, but twenty yards, the sea began to foam.

Then, instantly, a web of flesh broke surface like a dome.

Dark tentacles, like living whips, shot forward with a crack,

Enclosed the maiden in their coils, and quickly drew her back.

 

Her fading cry to no avail, she flew away from shore.

The moment lasted but a breath and not a second more.

She disappeared beneath the waves while, running to the bluff,

The only witness was this boy whose best was not enough.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT THURSDAY (dot, dot, dot!!)

Watching the clock

wood 2I’m not one to wait excessively well.  (Just ask Bob.)  Especially if I have somewhere I need to be at a particular time, like showing up for a party “on time” is one thing, but showing up for work “on time” is something else.  I’m seriously time-oriented, and if there has been one sticking point in our marriage, lo these many years, it invariably has to do with time management.  To me, the clock tends to be a mandate; to my husband, it’s merely a suggestion…

So, in a sense I tend to relate to the disciples waiting on Jesus to arrive at the boat for their departure to the next place of ministry.  I can only imagine what possessed them to be so impatient as to leave the Main Attraction behind while they Continue reading “Watching the clock”

Spoiler: this is not a political statement.

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I guess we had a presidential debate last night here in the United States.  I wouldn’t know, since I watched the first few minutes of it and went in the other room to read The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  Good book, BTW.

Anyway, back to the debate.  I say I wouldn’t know if it really was a debate or not, or merely the circus it was billed to be.  I’ll probably hear about it at some point; I’m certainly not a political analyst like those who are paid to influence the rest of us. 

It’s not that I’m not proud to be an American, or least of our American heritage and those who continue to uphold the good therein, many times at great personal sacrifice.  It’s not that I’m not going to vote; I will. 

But a friend of mine gave me a good reminder that bears repeating again and again: God is in control.  I knew that, I know it now, but it’s good to hear it from someone else.  God is in control.  Here’s what He said back in the day through his prophet Isaiah, (things weren’t looking overly optimistic then, either)—

 “I will watch quietly from my dwelling place—
    as quietly as the heat rises on a summer day,
    or as the morning dew forms during the harvest.”

We like to harp and gripe about where is God, why isn’t He DOING something, blah, blah.  To me, the answer remains:

 He has, He is, and He will. 

And I had better be on board with that plan, however and whenever and through whomever He chooses to unfold it.  Because it really isn’t about the economy, personal prosperity, immigration, or ISIS.  Those are mere symptoms of the deeper, more insidious cause.

“It” is about Him.  It always has been.  And someday, we will all realize that. 

Even I know that, and I’m not even a prophet.

Isaiah 18:4  Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

Efficient planting, or not.

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My son-in-law steered me to a more user-friendly way of gardening know as Square Foot Gardening—a precise way of designing, planting and growing crops that makes the most efficient use of space as well as seed.  In fact, we’re instructed to plant only a few seeds into each particular hole in each particular one-square-foot plot mapped out in the dirt.  This helps eliminate the need for pulling up tender shoots when there’s too much crowding for optimal growth (what a waste!), as well as to prevent wasting the seed.

It all sounds quite logical.  So, naturally, I bought the book, and I’m waiting to put it to use. 

That was several years ago.

Evidently, they didn’t use that method back in Jesus’ day either, to hear Continue reading “Efficient planting, or not.”

They’ll be no cursing around here…

Insanity Bytes has a good idea here…

See, there's this thing called biology...

One of my pet peeves is this idea that Adam and Eve were cursed in the garden. It’s all over the internet and some great theologians I really respect, often speak casually of the curse of Eve, the curse of mankind, how we are all under a curse. For anyone interested, the fall of man is in Genesis 3, so you may read all about it yourself.

There is no curse. If we go back and read Genesis properly, God curses the serpent and He curses the ground. He does not curse Adam or Eve.  There are consequences, their lives become more difficult, everything changes, but there is no “curse” from God. He looks right at the serpent and says “Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed…”

God is a perfect Father, so while we all may be inclined to curse our own children now and then, He does…

View original post 195 more words

The Wisdom of Wildflowers

garden lastI think this is called Spiderwort.  Such a weird name for such a cool plant, as I was not aware that spiders have warts—sounds like something out of Harry Potter or C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters.  It grows wild here in Missouri; you’ll find it along country roads or railroad tracks.  Since I have some in my own garden, I observed its fascinating property of opening in the cool of the morning, and closing up shop in the heat of the day.  Check it out:

It’s like this little wildflower knows its limitations and adjusts accordingly to keep itself safe and therefore more productive (and beautiful, I might add.) 

If only I had such intrinsic wisdom….

Dr. Henry Cloud, in his brilliant book, Changes That Heal, also speaks Continue reading “The Wisdom of Wildflowers”

THE KRAKEN (Part #2)

(Pssst…In case you missed the first part, you can start from HERE.)

b8c14c0de55a3a61b83929cde26aaaf0
From: gizemlervebilinmeyenler.blogspot.com and copied from Alejandro Quijano pintrest (Kinda scary, right?)

The Kraken

By Robert L. Jones III (check it out at Pneumythology)

II. Down From the Hills

Far from the ocean lived a lad who roamed about the land

And learned to make his presence scarce when there was work at hand.

He hiked the forests of the hills to set his fancy free,

Pretending that the wooded slopes were some great, frozen sea.

 

His father worked a blacksmith’s forge, the glowing metal hit

With hammering and strength of arm to make the iron fit

For many tasks as instruments that render work complete.

He fashioned plows and pruning hooks and shoes for horses’ feet.

 

Of mother’s gentle, guiding touch the boy had been denied.

They said it was at point of birth the blacksmith’s wife had died.

More than a few considered him a coarse, unruly child,

For while his father made their tools, he grew up stout and wild.

 

But, nonetheless, the father’s role was more than what it seemed.

Upon his knee at night, his son heard parables and dreamed

Of perfect things, invisible, beyond experience,

Of great dimension, fantasies contrived from common sense.

 

Young boys become young men although it’s hard to say just when,

And, on the way, in innocence, romantic thoughts begin.

One day, he sauntered through the hills with nothing much to do

When, in a vision, from the ground a perfect woman grew.

 

He could not see her clearly as she moved among the trees.

The breeze became her whisper, his companion at his ease.

As often as he waded in some pleasant summer’s dream,

He felt her fluid fingers on his ankles in the stream.

 

Her footsteps traced across the roots. Her willow waist would bend

In rhythm with the trunks of trees that bowed before the wind,

And slender ankles flashed along the dappled forest floor,

Approaching then receding as he sought to see her more.

 

He chased her all that summer, but her face he could not see.

No speed afoot could satisfy his curiosity.

At start of fall, that season when the leaves begin to turn,

His youthful pulse was quickened, and his chest began to burn.

 

Then came the day he lost all track of normal time and place,

Absorbed in contemplation of that fair but hidden face.

The vision pulled him far from home and into fading light.

At length, he stopped and kneeled to hear her breathing in the night.

 

He ran for days from tree to tree and bounded hedge to hedge

Through farms on lower slopes until he chanced on water’s edge.

The ocean wore its atmosphere, a gray and clouded hood,

And there his fervent running ceased, for there she clearly stood.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT THURSDAY!!

No need for a boil order?

neuschwanstein-castle-467116_1280Cultural differences aside, Old Testament prophets were, um…a little weird.  I say that respectfully, but I can only imagine they may not have been at the top of an invitation list to any aspiring social event.  Things like walking around naked, burying underwear in the dirt (and retrieving it some time later!), marrying a prostitute, and a list of the bizarre continues—it certainly caught the people’s attention.

It would’ve caught my eye, to say the least.

Not respected, rarely believed, probably ridiculed, and usually hunted down, the job description was not for the faint of heart.  Clearly, one was not chosen by Continue reading “No need for a boil order?”

Spiritual diabetes

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Let me just be clear about something—I hate exercise.  When I was in high school, I went on a Young Life overnight 50-mile bike hike, 25 miles each day.

Including hills. 

I remember the thought occurring to me that I could purposefully fall off the bike so that I could ride the rest of the way in the S.A.G. (Support And Gear) vehicle since I was certainly sagging, badly.

Certainly, it’s not the first nor the last time my innate lack of stamina has tried to forestall my resolution to physical fitness.  But as a nurse, there is a certain hypocrisy that tries to shadow its demon self if I, at the very least, don’t keep trying.  I preach it at my school, to my staff, to my Continue reading “Spiritual diabetes”

I Have ANOTHER question (#3)

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Leviticus 20:10 “If a man commits adultery with his neighbor’s wife, both the man and the woman who have committed adultery must be put to death.”

So why were David and Bathsheba not stoned for their adultery?  In fact, this punishment was not even mentioned in the rebuke from God through Nathan the prophet.  Of course, the child died and there were other terrible consequences that effected many people.  Can we legitimately infer anything about why God didn’t have Nathan follow through with the original consequence?  And more importantly, does anyone else see the grace of God working alongside the law (truth) of God?

Giving shout-outs for some specific insightful bloggers, but also invite any others who might have some thoughts to weigh in on this one:

Beyond the Map

Cookie Crumbs to Live By

From the Inside Out

I Sing Because I’m Free

Learning to Be Full of Grace and Truth

Patrick Hawthorne

Pneumythology

Salvageable

Tolle Lege

The Recovering Legalist

Truth in Palmyra

Virtual Vitamins

(And if you haven’t checked out these sites, I recommend you do!)

Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.