Scribbling On Paper

What if today was the day? The day that everything changed, the day that something ended and something started. The day you died or the day a new life was allowed to be born and the mother wanted her child. What magnificent decisions can be made today that will change the future of your life and perhaps effect the life of another? Time is about to tell…. Continue reading “What if Today?”

The warmth of summer days gives way to chilling autumn night’s and the sky’s stay dark for longer hours. The woods are as quiet as a crackle crunch dry. Gray squirrels search for acorns, I am on the hunt. As the winds calm in the evening you can hear the chipmunks chirp and foot steps in the distance, I ready the bow. Full alert with a pounding heart then from behind the brush Bambi shows.  His head is lowered and takes a drink from the trickling stream, cold wet waters barely running. No such luck so far waiting for those big horns, but I am smiling. The crisp cool air watches the golden red maples leaves tumble down swaying back and forth as they drop. An owl hoots and the bluejays squabble with a ruckus alarming all of nature about a corn pile. The 12 foot dead birch tree stump has a hole towards the top and a nuthatch calls it home. Argumentative red squirrels race with lightning speed  strait up the tree scolding me for being on their turf. Life has a peaceful moment but there is still that one mosquito and with a slap I return to sitting still. As the days creeps to an end darkness overtakes the world, coyotes emerge from their den and with a howl night begins and I climb down from my perch. My soul has been recharged listening to the voices of nature.   September 29 2020

Sometimes it feels as if life is the great rip within my soul. I wake in the early morning and experience love and pain, turmoil and hope. Yet the battle is won by whatever emotion I focus on the most. On this day the victor goes towards lonely, a sad lonely with old scars across his back from the pains of lost dreams, and the feeling of self doubt. All I want some mornings is to feel loved, and I am troubled so deep within that I groan in a way that only a true God could ever understand. Continue reading “The Great Tear”

It starts with a hope and a prayer, a smile and a flirt, a drink and a puff, and a bible verse.  Are these the beginnings of destiny or the greatest distractions of my life? I am walking down a path to discover what kind of man I really am, and with each decision I stumble along asking myself why am I headed this way? Continue reading “Only Time Will Tell”

Once again I found myself sitting in a room filled with the educated, yet I remain as quiet as a church mouse. At times there was eye contact and the expression of the faces from across the room was a question of ” Am I going to join in on the conversation?” But my silence said no. I just sat there most of the time with my hand on my chin and my index finger across my lips as if I was using it like a zip lock seal. In truth I was masking my uncomfortable, and doing my best to hide the feelings called dumb. I am not them! Continue reading “Devotional”

I consider myself to be a man of both faith and failures. A man of morels that I compromise and self evaluate each day when I wake to take a breath. I wonder today what message I will type with my fingers, and I feel a little like John boy Walton if you know who he was….I ponder about my sins and forgiveness and then suddenly I ask myself and my God, if He is able to do one simple complicated thing….Can he save me from myself? Continue reading “Faith and Failures”

The morning begins with a yawn, a growl and a scratch. Nothing specific on my mind other than hope, love, and fear. Why do we do each? Why is one more dominate than the other? Who wins the war within the heart and the mind?

Love is a mystical creature who lurks in the light, but sometimes fear makes the decision to worry and then hope begins to struggle. I don’t feel much like struggling today, therefore I choose to let love glow and light to enter my fearful places. Struggle is a fist fight between what my mind knows to be true and my heart allows it’s self to believe. The two combined are a ruth-full bunch to be reckoned with, and can take on the biggest monsters of fear, but what about those days when fear rules both the mind and the heart? Failures are about to happen and in the end on some occasions emotions rule the light.

Continue reading “Hope”

Early, the heavy grays hang low and rising from the ground is dense fog. Wet birds sit on buzzing high wires waiting for the storms to pass. Wipers flip back and forth so drivers can see there way. Headlights beaming but travel must be slow. The earth and the forces of nature can not be avoided and today the direction of travel is towards work. With windows up the crash of thunder is muffled and the flash is as quick as lightening can be. Traffic is busy as Americans often are, in so much hurry with no time to waste, not even for a moment of coffee with a friend. Sad isn’t it the our culture often puts accomplishing the next task marked complete on our check list of things to do, as much more important than continuing to act like a friend. Suit and ties scurry to the bank, grease monkeys unlock their set of tools, yet other sit homeless any place shelter can be found. A doorway, in an alley dumpster or even in the doghouse of someones back yard. Only a dogs love can be the friend of such a person who smells the way they smell. Sorrow is the heart of God as he looks down on all the busy. He sends the rain to the rich and the poor, to the brightest mind and to the dumb. So today as the storms of life settle and the sun shines again remember the storms will always pass.

Insignificant dust stands on the deck leaning against the rail drinking hot coffee, the sky is black and the earth is not awake. Staring into the morning before the sun speaks and birds begin to sing, a small heart cries out “Oh God.” Can you see my tiny?

The moon reflects a cloud, and the stars twinkle. Dogs run across the half frozen tundra, the trees beg to bud and the flowers are colorless. Spring is in need of the of bloom, dead brown leaves are still muddy covering the grass. Robins look for food and old man winter is becoming lonely.

The quiet of the almost night is a jet racing across the sky. The earth is turning. Each new day is a season of life, each moment is a decision. But for just a few seconds more I beg to burn my lips on my woman or another cup of hot coffee. My dust cries out again, oh God can you see my tiny?