I Miss My Boy!

Ever feel at a loss for words? Me too. When you make a living with words; spoken or written...being at a loss for them can be frightful, darn-near painful and unsettling. That's where I've been lately. Wordless. I've had a few friends ask what's wrong. Up till now, I've said, "nothing."

I've considered writing about "this" dozens of times over the past few months, but I could never really bring myself to do it. I felt petty, selfish and self-absorbed every time my fingers clicked on the keyboard. My pain was small and inconsequential in comparison to some of my friends; I've stood and watched while they buried their babies, mine had just joined the Army. It wasn't like he was dead. I was being ridiculous, I told myself. But it didn't lesson the emptiness I felt. It didn't ease the unbelievable hurt.

So I swallowed the scorching ache that had become an ever-present heartburn and plastered that, "everything is dandy" smile on my face. But slowly, its been eating away at my insides. The truth is, I'm not okay and I feel sad all the time. I cry for no reason and for every reason and it feels like I cry all the time now. I'm lost, confused and dazed. How did 18 years pass that quickly? I feel like screaming and throwing stuff. I'm mad. No, I'm pissed, but not at any one or any thing for certain and I wish I never had to leave my house again. I'm lonely, but I just want to be left alone. I miss my boy!

He use to go everywhere with me. I took him to work with me, to Army drill weekends, shopping, Katie's or Missy's on Saturday and Mr. Lu's or The Boneyard when I'd sneak him out of school. We hung out together, wrestled (when he was much smaller) and I let him win when we played video games together (okay, that part was an outright lie.) I miss my boy!

I'm going to see him tomorrow! I can't wait to feel his strong arms around my shoulders. It won't be for long enough and I know when we leave I'll start the boo-hooing again, but I just can't help it...I miss my boy!!!

What do you see?

This morning I sat on the back porch, my blurry eyes trying hard to focus on the world around me and I zeroed in on some bright, orange cosmos. Their paper-thin petals glowing in the early morning sun brought a smile to my unpainted lips. As I sipped my coffee, my still-sleepy eyes wandered over the yard and I realized that there isn't a single flower in my garden that doesn't remind me of the grace of God or His goodness in my life.

I often wonder how anyone could deny the existence of a benevolent creator when we're surrounded by mirrors of His gorgeous face everyday. 

 

One would have to be blind to miss what is the reflection of an almighty God in the microscopic details that make up a red-hot-poker. Oh, I understand that the truth is hid to those that are lost, but it still amazes me that anyone could mistake the splendor that colors our world or changes our hearts with just a plea of forgiveness - for anything other than God's unbelievable grace. 

As I stare at the tiny trifoliate petals of the widow's tears I thank God for making all things beautiful. I thank Him for allowing me to live in this age, I praise Him for sending Jesus to die in my place and I give Him all the glory for everything I have or ever will accomplish.

 As for me, when I see all that He has created, I see the Son...and I can't help but feel humbled and blessed.


What love is...

"I may not be a smart man, but I know what love is..." Forrest Gump.

I know what love is too...

Love is the sweet scent of homegrown roses,












love is clematis in bloom,

love is blood red lilies

a forever promise...

 

Love is...green eyes and dimples.

 

Goodbye...

I can feel the frown on my face; it’s between my eyes pushing against the bridge of my nose.

I know why it’s there too. There’s a sadness growing in me every day as I realize the possibility of never seeing you again. While I know it’s for the best, it means death for us. There have been some very sad days since I met you that I wished I could have turned back the clock and never done so.

I would not have this heaviness in my chest that pushes against my lungs preventing me from taking a full breath. I wouldn’t have this constant yearning to feel your warm body against mine. There wouldn’t be this unfulfilled ache in the pit of my being that keeps me from sleeping. I can’t seem to forget about you, but everything in me screams that I must.

So I’ll hold you to my lips one last time and breathe you in slowly. I’ll miss your warmth, your scent, your closeness. Then I’ll crush out your flame and let you go while there’s still a little of me left to salvage. Goodbye, my sweet corncob pipe, I love you.

No Weapon

"Go ahead," I said, "align yourself with the enemy."

I knew that when that invisible, but devastating line was drawn, there would be no going back for "them." I smiled through my frustration.

When the enemy attacks, in the form of a supposed "friend" or team member, it's painful, but God promises us that no weapon formed against us shall prosper.
So I'll let go of any desire to lash out or retaliate when someone wishes or tries to do me harm...especially when I've done NOTHING to deserve it.

I remind myself of people (weapons) who have not only NOT prospered, but who have suffered because they aligned themselves with the enemy...and already I'm feeling sorry for their impending demise.

I've seen weapons lose their jobs, spouses, credibility, income and even lives...simply because they made that fateful decision to bear arms against a child of the one true King.

I'm not going to argue the fact that I'm Jesus' favorite broken vessel. I serve at the pleasure of the King. He loves me...died for me...I don't need to know anything else.

So go ahead, knock yourself out...because I know...NO WEAPON!

Help me, Lord!

I'm gonna tell it to you straight cause I don't know any other way to tell it.
Hold on, cause it may get hairy up in here...

There's been a sinful, seductive element lurking in the shadows near my soul lately. Tempting, taunting, terrorizing my mind...and I've nearly given in to the lusts of the flesh.

I'm a strong woman. A woman of faith. A woman of principles. A woman of God.
BUT, I'm still a woman. A woman with needs, wants, desires. I am bone - blood - teeth and a little bit of girly pheromones.

Lately, the waters of temporary pleasures have crept so close to the nostrils of my staunch principles that I've questioned the resolute ground on which they stand. I'm in pain, yet without a wound. I'm bound, yet shackle-free. I'm tormented, yet unscathed.

I feel the chilly waters begin to overtake me, clutching at my throat and ending all that I am.
So, I lift my eyes to the hills from whence my help comes...and I speak the only peace my heart has ever known...

"Protect me, O Lord. I'm falling. Your servant is weak and craving...yearning for...desperate to have...

...chocolate cake, ice cream and fudge. Maybe some pizza, a taco platter, fattening soft drinks and empty calories...she longs for fattening foods, very short walks on the beach, sunsets near a camp fire where hot dogs and marsh mellows are being roasted, she dreams of greasy cheese burgers and onion rings. Your portly, wanna-be-saint of a woman thinks of nothing more than to lay in the shade with a bag of salty chips with maybe some queso and guaco and jalapenos close by...

...Help me, Lord."

and they call this Justice?

Call me jaded, but I hope the bad guy from Boston suffered hours and hours of excruciating pain before he surrendered tonight like the textbook coward that he is. It's unfortunate that we had to provide him immediate medical attention before questioning him about his horrific crimes.

Since our equally cowardly president will undoubtedly insist that this terrorist be prosecuted by the Common Wealth of Mass. instead of treating him like the terrorist that he is...we will probably never know why - after becoming a naturalized citizen on September 11, 2012 - he decided to betray the country that welcomed him with open arms.

Now we will get to see his elmo-looking, someone's-gonna-love-on-him-in-prison face for twenty plus years as we feed, house and (undoubtedly) educate him. That's not to mention the hundreds of thousands of dollars of free medical and legal services that we will lavish on this cold-blooded killer before we humanely put him to sleep like a rabid dog.

So call me jaded if you must, but I hope the Boston bomber suffered just a smidge before he enters the American justice system that consistently bows down and kisses the toes of the guilty while sticking its crooked middle finger in the face of legless victims.