I am hiking along a dirt road. On my left is a man made wasteland for treating water at a fruit canning factory. On my right is a woods. My head is down in the hot mid-day sun of the month of May.
I notice two shadows circling at my feet and I look up. I see two turkey vultures flying in tight spirals above my head. A shiver runs up my spine. This is the first time I've ever felt fear. So I call my dog out of the woods. He comes bounding out of the bushes.
The birds fly away.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Isaiah 65.25, 66.3
The wolf and the lamb shall graze alike,
and the lion shall eat hay like an ox
[but the serpents food shall be dust.]
None shall hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain, says the
Lord.
Merely slaughtering an ox is like slaying
a man;
sacrificing a lamb, like breaking a
dog's neck;
Bringing cereal offering, like offering
swine's blood;
burning incense, like paying homage
to an idol.
Since these have chosen their own ways
and taken pleasure in their own abominations...
and the lion shall eat hay like an ox
[but the serpents food shall be dust.]
None shall hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain, says the
Lord.
Merely slaughtering an ox is like slaying
a man;
sacrificing a lamb, like breaking a
dog's neck;
Bringing cereal offering, like offering
swine's blood;
burning incense, like paying homage
to an idol.
Since these have chosen their own ways
and taken pleasure in their own abominations...
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Joel 2.12-13
Yet even now, says the Lord,
return to me with your whole heart,
with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;
Rend your hearts, not your garments,
and return to the Lord, your God.
For gracious and merciful is he,
slow to anger, rich in kindness,
and relenting in punishment.
return to me with your whole heart,
with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;
Rend your hearts, not your garments,
and return to the Lord, your God.
For gracious and merciful is he,
slow to anger, rich in kindness,
and relenting in punishment.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Psalm 51.17-19
Lord, open my lips;
my mouth will proclaim your praise.
For you do not desire sacrifice;
a burnt offering you would not accept,
My sacrifice, God, is a broken spirit;
God do not spurn a broken, humbled heart.
my mouth will proclaim your praise.
For you do not desire sacrifice;
a burnt offering you would not accept,
My sacrifice, God, is a broken spirit;
God do not spurn a broken, humbled heart.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
The week after the last day
Do you remember your last day of Kindergarten? I remember the week after my last day. I lived across the street from my elementary school. In a house on the corner of main and union. My teacher took the time to stop and talk to my mom. I stood in the backroom watching as they discussed me on the sidewalk outside. What could they be discussing?
During the visit, my teacher told her how I was telling the other students about snakes. He specifically mentioned my story about king snakes. How they were immune to venom and eat other snakes. That they even eat the poisonous ones. He didn't know if what I was saying was true, so in his free time, he checked out everything I said in the encyclopedia.
I knew a lot about snakes then, and it was a fascination born out of fear. The fact that they are so different from us. They have scales and are without legs, to a child they appear alien. Do you remember how you'd memorize books before you could read? I memorized every I could find about snakes.
He told her that everything I said about snakes was true. Whoever has ears ought to hear.
During the visit, my teacher told her how I was telling the other students about snakes. He specifically mentioned my story about king snakes. How they were immune to venom and eat other snakes. That they even eat the poisonous ones. He didn't know if what I was saying was true, so in his free time, he checked out everything I said in the encyclopedia.
I knew a lot about snakes then, and it was a fascination born out of fear. The fact that they are so different from us. They have scales and are without legs, to a child they appear alien. Do you remember how you'd memorize books before you could read? I memorized every I could find about snakes.
He told her that everything I said about snakes was true. Whoever has ears ought to hear.
Friday, November 6, 2009
A black dress and a cave
Why I am here, isn't exactly clear. I do know that I am an investigator and that a crime has been reported. I am in the back of some old processing plant. My eye is following a line of piping as I walk to a dumpster. The piping is about a foot above my head and appears to be two feet in diameter.
As I arrive at the scene, two police officers are up on a platform next to the dumpster. They are removing the ninety degree elbow that goes into it. The sun shines into the piping, and I see a pair of black high heels. "We've got a body!" I say. All the men working the area turn and look. I hear the whispers, "How did they get her in there?" "How'd they get her through that ninety?"
"Let's see what we have." So I grab her by the ankles and pull her out. We've got black, fish net stockings, a mini-dress and a shirt to match. She has black hair and white skin. She is attractive by any standard. She also appears to be dead.
The piping is a couple of inches above the platform and her head hits it as she slides out. She is not dead, for she wakes up and her eyes open. How long was she in there? I can only imagine the hunger.
She sits up and begins to attack me with a machine like precision. The kind of precision that requires a kind of madness. I weave and duck away from her fingernails. You'd think she'd be happy. I remember a time when I was young. When I explored a cave with a colleague. Our guide told us that if our lights went out, we'd go mad.
Her attack does not slow, she can't quite hit me. This is where I wake up.
As I arrive at the scene, two police officers are up on a platform next to the dumpster. They are removing the ninety degree elbow that goes into it. The sun shines into the piping, and I see a pair of black high heels. "We've got a body!" I say. All the men working the area turn and look. I hear the whispers, "How did they get her in there?" "How'd they get her through that ninety?"
"Let's see what we have." So I grab her by the ankles and pull her out. We've got black, fish net stockings, a mini-dress and a shirt to match. She has black hair and white skin. She is attractive by any standard. She also appears to be dead.
The piping is a couple of inches above the platform and her head hits it as she slides out. She is not dead, for she wakes up and her eyes open. How long was she in there? I can only imagine the hunger.
She sits up and begins to attack me with a machine like precision. The kind of precision that requires a kind of madness. I weave and duck away from her fingernails. You'd think she'd be happy. I remember a time when I was young. When I explored a cave with a colleague. Our guide told us that if our lights went out, we'd go mad.
Her attack does not slow, she can't quite hit me. This is where I wake up.
A flower in the frost
A flower in the frost
Will it die?
If it does
Will God sigh?
I chose the title mainly because it was available. That and my favorite saint is St. Therese of the Little Flower. I've read that a sign for one of her miracles was a blooming rose in the snow. All I hope to do here is relate some stories from my life, my childhood, my dreams and my visions. My hope is to stay alive in the midst of a cold world.
Will it die?
If it does
Will God sigh?
I chose the title mainly because it was available. That and my favorite saint is St. Therese of the Little Flower. I've read that a sign for one of her miracles was a blooming rose in the snow. All I hope to do here is relate some stories from my life, my childhood, my dreams and my visions. My hope is to stay alive in the midst of a cold world.
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