Ordinary Life

​ I’m not one for crowds or extreme shopping but today kicked off a big bag clearance event, nonetheless.  I am one for stories- and art…and understanding things.  Because of that, and a memory with giant decorative skylights running the length of it, I find myself surrounded by little - and not so little - mountains of remembrances everywhere: ticket stubs, “thoughtstrings” (journal entries and random writings) bills I hope I’ve got on autopay and anything that resembles a card.  I’ve got magazines and stickers and lots of visual graphic art. There are programs from events, sermon notes and homework from various continuing ed.  I am treading a sea of souvenirs from the joys of simply living.  But af ter this month, I’ll have less of them. I’ve already filled one trash bag today. I’m making room for all new inventory.  I’m about to tackle the greeting cards. I’ve got all types- spanning several decades.  If you’ve ever sent me a card, this is my offic...

I entered NYCMidnight's Flash Fiction contest again this year.  At this point, it's more of a tradition than attempt to win, which is a good thing considering I came in 14th out of 15 top entries. (not too far to fall completely off the chart)  I was assigned to Group 71: Political Satire We were assigned a smoke filled room for our setting and an umbrella for our prop. It took me until the 11th hour to find an idea I even wanted to build on (story of my actual non-fiction life, too) With our current political climate so rife with strife, I couldn't find anything that felt neutral or safe to skewer a little.  I ran with the idea of personifying 'Just A. Bill' (you know, the one who lives on Capitol Hill)  Back in June, one Sunday after church,  I  started writing around 3 PM  and finished the same evening just ahead of the midnight deadline by a smidge. With some time lost, no doubt, to bathroom breaks, coffee refills, the closing of Pa...

:: laughter ::  "Mom, come here and look at this one."  We were killing time in TJ Maxx, waiting on Fisher to get off from work. She held up a red mug as I took my receipt and joined her at the end of aisle cap. "I saw this one and had to laugh" she said as she read aloud, 'Home is where Dad is.'  Really? Is that where it is? 'cause I don't think so. Isn't that just too funny, mom? "  I smiled at her.  What do you say to that? Surely not what I was thinking: "This is what comedians are made of- laughing at the hard stuff " We had almost reached the car when she picked the conversation back up mid-sentence.     "...and I just think about everyone, you know, who doesn't have a dad in their life... having to see that...and you know, like, Father's Day and stuff..."  Then, with the resiliency of childhood, she was on to sweeter things,  pulling a sleeve of just purchased pistachio macarons from her bag to shar...

I love my pastor's heart for other pastors.  He didn't realize a photo would be shared when he sent the text, he just wanted to encourage a fellow pastor as their church plant launched this morning.  I am grateful for the understanding that others may not see: it's an authentic love.  It's not some shallow attempt at networking or building a bigger platform.  Here's how I know:  Once upon a time, my pastor and I shared the same pastor. And he will always kind of be our pastor- he's our dad.   If you've never heard NeedToBreathe's 'Washed By The Water' , go now, listen. It explains the backstory well enough .  ** If you are a fellow PK who finds this song relatable, you are my tribe. I love you. While it is sad and a shame there are so many of us, it is not a waste, my dear friend. And I'm here for you ** God has taken a season of hurt, betrayal and dismay in our family's life and turned it into a harvest of love, multiplied.  Just...

I drink unsweet tea and talk to strangers.  Though many concerned friends have warned that either or both of these things may kill me, a life devoid of at least a little risk is, to me, a bigger tragedy.  On a recent McD's tea run, these two quirks of being me collided in Drive-Thru Lane 2 with a shift manager's concern that she'd just poisoned a diabetic.  When pressed through the seive of a drive-thru speaker box, my dialect of Southern persuasion can cause "A Large Unsweet Tea" to sound like " Uh,  Large, Um... Sweet Tea" (because, why would anyone down here order UNSWEET?!)  So I try to remember to qualify my order when it is repeated:  " Yes, that's right, Unsweet Tea, no sugar."  If I don't find a chance to repeat 'no sugar' the first time, I definitely work it in when I (inevitably) drive back around to switch out the sweet tea I was given for the cup of tea stained water I requested.  My emphasis on "no suga...

There are nights -especially those insomnia steeped nights- when I use therapy tricks on myself to get to Slumberland Street- or at least to keep my mind busy until daylight. I recently shared the Lists of Ten exercise with a friend: Think of ten things you've accomplished today. You should start as small as you need - especially on those most challenging days -  give yourself some credit.  Did you wake up? Count it. Did you get fully dressed? That counts, too. Try to make it to ten, but if not?  On to Round 2: List ten things you'd like to accomplish tomorrow. Start with waking up (or getting to sleep) if you need to.  Rounds 3 through Infinity include: Gratitude, Prayers & Grocery Lists, et al   As I close the door on Twenty-One and peek at the dawn of Twenty-Two, I'll occupy my mind with Lists of Ten while we wait on our company and food.  Challenges This Year:  1.) Withdrawing from School  2.) Unemployment 3.) Resigning a good...

In the movie, a young girl covers the song of a faded superstar who is paralyzed by loss.  By the chorus, the audience is on its feet, singing in unison "...I still haven't found what I'm looking for..."  :: The jaded old timer is rallied and joins in song. ::  "...I believe in the kingdom come Then all the colors will bleed into one Bleed into one But yes I'm still running  You broke the bonds And you loosed the chains Carried the cross Of my shame Oh my shame You know I believe it But I still haven't found what I'm looking for..."  I felt my heart break a little- for humanity; for all of us longing to know -and feel- that we are truly loved. I'm convinced it's what we're all seeking, every last one of us: love that knows us fully and keeps us forever.  That's the Good News of Christmas.  We can stop running.  No more hide-and-seek, we've been found.  And we are already so very loved.  For keeps.      ...

Before the decree, my marriage ended in a thousand works of literature. We've been listening to an audio drama of ' A Christmas Carol' by The Merry Beggars as an Advent activity and came to Scrooge's exchange with Belle this week.  I love 'A Christmas Carol'  for so many reasons, one of which is this scene. It has been a friend and strange comfort to me for many, many years.  When I first encountered it, while homeschooling my children, it gave me vocabulary for an underlying understanding that my partner and I were using different currencies based on vastly varying values. Without knowing all that was to come, my heart reflected Belle's even then: I release you to pursue your true passion and hope you find the happiness that now eludes you.  Merry Christmas to all and thank God for the miracle of hearts that say yes to being changed.  >> Belle's Farewell << For again Scrooge saw himself. He was older now; a man in the prime of life....

"Bwahahahaha!" Her cackle pierced the drone of usual student activity in the combination gym/chapel/lunchroom.  The victim, unaware she had been selected as today's target, looked to see if everyone was alright. It was such a loud and sudden noise, she thought someone had been hurt.  What she saw was laughter. Great big gobs of gossipy guffawing hee-haw. And they were laughing at her.  Unwilling to explain what was so funny, they only pointed out that her chair was in the wrong place.  "I won't tell you what I WAS going to say" one of the mean girls jeered in-between guffaws. Then, lifting her hand to create the shadowy working conditions necessary for vile lips to spew, she  whispered to her loyal and listening friend whatever it was she had not been going to say.   They laughed the wrong-chair-sitter back to her classroom, embarrassed and dismayed.  ~~~ This story is true.  The bullies portrayed are not little girls.  But they...

Some days, we just survive.  And we try to hide which days. Make them all look alike. " I'm fine, (Just fine. This is fine.) thank you, and how are you?"  No one will know.   And that's noble, right? It's what we're supposed to do: think on things lovely, good and true; count it all joy, my brethren, when life drops the other shoe.  For me, I have noticed "struggle days" tend to follow highly productive, happy moments.  Like shadow, stalking light.  It is true that gratitude lifts our mood, but what do you do when the dark slinks in even in the midst of joy and celebration ?  HOLD ON.  Like a sudden thunderstorm, let it pass.  If you can dance in the rain or jump in puddles, go right on out and do that.  But if it is dangerous and scary,  with flashes of lightning, stay put.  It is ok to curl up and wait. It can be comforting to talk with a friend when the power goes out.  One way I've learned to pray over the last few yea...