Cracked

Temple-dwelling God,

Once so distant and remote,

CRACK! Now Holy Ghost.

Written in response to The Write Prompt 

Are You Still Watching?

We don't have cable television nor do we have Direct TV...satellite, any of that...We just have a monthly subscription to Netflix and we love it!

There are no commercials with which to contend, and I can watch whatever I want whenever I want it! I also love that Netflix will stop after it's shown you three straight episodes of a show and will say, "Are you still watching?" You have the option to hit CONTINUE or go back to the menu.

Clearly, their belief is, "We'll make this convenient in that we'll start three episodes in a row without making you do any work...BUT, we also know that you don't want to fall asleep and then miss an entire season of a TV show, so we'll stop at three and make YOU decide if you're ready to go on.

I wonder what life would be like if God would stop progressing our LIVES whenever we tuned out on him.

I think I would still be 10 years old.

How OFTEN do we fall asleep and STOP WATCHING God?.

How OFTEN do we have God running in the background while we're doing other things, and suddenly we are three episodes in and have missed the story?

We have so many distractions in our lives these days: social media, sports, games, family...all of them CAN be good, but all of them can become idols that pull us away from God and take a position of utmost importance in our daily lives. 

ARE WE STILL WATCHING GOD?

Here's the irony in my writing, and COMPLETING this particular blog post...it's been sitting in my drafts folder for three years. THREE YEARS it took me to finish something that I had thought about writing. I'm a little surprised that when I logged into Blogger, there wasn't a pop-up window that would say: ARE YOU STILL WRITING?


Written in response to The Write Prompts

Laceration

Again, our innocence lost.

A laceration of our most playful souls.

A deep mourning so we change.

Written in response to writing prompt:  Laceration

A Good Punch in the Face

Image courtesy of num_skyman/www.freedigitalphotos.net

I've never punched anyone in the face...

Let's get that clear right now.  

But I've wanted to.  In those very "Ally McBeal" moments when you picture yourself following through on your basic animal instincts to lash out at anyone near you when you are injured or threatened...oh, yes...I have wanted to punch many people in the face.

the 8th grade classmate who said, "Tammie, the only reason you get good grades is because you don't have any friends".

the 8th grade classmate who wrote me a note saying that she wanted to become popular that year, and that meant she couldn't be friends with me anymore.  (yeah, 8th grade sucked).

the people who typed the anonymous letters from graduate schools and turned me down because of my GRE scores (although I'm glad you did because I never would have started dating my husband had you accepted me at THOSE schools).

everyone who worked at the Gerber Grow-Up plan because I got a letter from you in December 2004 saying that our daughter couldn't get life insurance through you...(hmmm...a rare disease does that, I guess...hence, why you were forthwith known as the Gerber THROW UP plan).

a couple of Wisconsin's 'civil servants' whose names appeared on letters declining Evie for some county services.  That was unfortunate...but, the courts overturned your decision. :P

the parents who shush their children when they ask me very logical and appropriate "children type" questions about Evie.  Your SHUSH communicates shame...and there is no shame about my daughter.  Your SHUSH is what makes her question what IS SO wrong.

the lady at McDonald's who approached me as we frantically were trying to usher Evie out of the restaurant during a wicked meltdown after a long day of traveling....you approach me and all you do is suggest fish oil for my child's behaviors?  Open the friggin' door for us and help us OUT!

the old man who told me I should have folded up Evie's white cane BEFORE boarding the plane because it was a nuisance for him.  Clearly you don't understand WHY we use a white cane...it's HOW we GET on the plane.

the eye doctors who have treated Evie as if she has no intelligence and that we shouldn't even be in your office...well, guess what...we aren't in your office anymore.  It's actually worth flying back to Wisconsin to see our eye doctor THERE, 1,800 miles from home; than drive two hours and waste our time on you.

I didn't have to, and don't have to, punch any of these people in the face.  They are of no consequence to us.  

This is a great big world, and we serve a GREAT BIG GOD and because of His victory WE have victory.

Today.

No punching required.

Written in response to writing prompt 182 on thewriteprompts.com 

Saturday's Stuff

Wright Beach, Pacific Ocean

Peering through a lens I see saltwater sprays,
Vultures spread-winged and soaring, 
Diamonds dancing on the blue.

I pull back and see kites that won't fly,
But sand that does,
Artwork created for the water to wash away.

We drive in to the small, sea-side town,
A treasure in a small store off the turn,
And, as always, today is a good day for some taffy.

Through the finger-printed panes I see a sky,
It never meets the water,
But blurs into rippling waves and blue lines of static.

I missed the sunset because I was laughing,
But the sun will set tomorrow too,
And my stomach still aches from the laughter.

Not a dusty blue book on a shelf,
No papers strewn on a countertop,
No worries about who to be when the sun rises in the morning.

Written in response to The Write Prompts

While I was at the Funeral for My Old Dreams

it was spelled out in black and white...
there was a difference in her DNA...
this would not be a "normal" life for our first and only child...

our life was now a query and a question mark rather than an exclamation with a point.

while i was at the funeral for my old dreams,
jesus came and sheltered me
with loving eyes and gentle hands,
with peaceful breaths and merciful words.

while i was at the funeral for my old dreams,
i slowly realized the new,
dreams don't always come true,
but god's unfolding promises do.

while i was at the funeral for my old dreams,
i knew that he'd designed this beautiful journey,
it would not look like my plan,
my plan was now under the earth, and somehow that didn't hurt.

while i was at the funeral for my old dreams,
i began to smile...one day,
after a while,
i settled into today and suddenly we are miles away from the graveyard where we left the old dreams.

those old dreams do not fit us now anyway...

Pictures

Sometimes I stare at pictures on the wall and wonder how so much time could have passed so quickly.

I remember that family photo, taken when I was permed and eye-lined; with the coke-bottle glasses and "Life Goes On, Becca" frames.

I remember that trip to Arizona, and Dad all giddy taking close-ups of the cactus.

I remember when Mom went to Florida and came back having seen those ocean sunsets, and she framed one so we could see it too.

Pictures hang on the walls of the homes we inhabit.  

They tell our stories...

We hang the best photos on the walls of our homes...
We post the best photos on the walls of our Facebook...

And that's...OK...

as long as we remember that we ALL edit our photos both inside and out...

Written in response to Flower Print Wall image writing prompt.