And forgive us our sins,
as we have forgiven those who sin against us.
Fulfill our greatest need,
More than food, more than clothing, more than shelter.
More than comfort, more than peace, more than discernment.
Rescue us from bitterness, from betrayal, though we betray our best friends.
Don't allow us to pass judgement that is not ours.
Pry our fingers from the blade, the lever, the rope
That grips our hands,
Grips our hearts,
And leaves us cold.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
F.Y.I.
Dante wrote about the ninth circle of Hell and a lake of ice that entrapped traitors of the worst kind. Its prisoners spent the rest of eternity trapped in frozen water, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Each of their ends poked out of the ice like straw in a pond, creating a fertile field that would never be harvested. Few would speak even speak to the Pilgrim, and here I lie mute.
Sure, this petri dish isn't Hades, nor the river Styx, but I seemed doomed none the less. The irony would surely kill me if time didn't do it first. I was created because of want, and I lie here doomed because I'm not wanted. I know the day I'll die, though I have no disease. No one wants me because I have the wrong colored eyes; I'm too short, I'm too tall, too....something.
Or maybe it's not enough of something. Maybe I don't have enough arms and legs yet, enough eyes, enough lungs, enough cells. I don't have enough to be a person according to some people, and so I don't matter. Let me tell you something, steel egg cartons are not comfortable, and this isn't a country kitchen refrigerator. It's a graveyard put on hold, and each of us has ten years.
I guess it doesn't matter if I might find the cure to cancer, AIDS, or the common cold. It doesn't signify that I could solve world hunger, find a solution to world peace, or write the next folio that changes a language forever. In ten years I'll meet my expiration date, or someone will use my genetic material to make a new spine for a drunk driver, whatever comes first I guess.
Sure, this petri dish isn't Hades, nor the river Styx, but I seemed doomed none the less. The irony would surely kill me if time didn't do it first. I was created because of want, and I lie here doomed because I'm not wanted. I know the day I'll die, though I have no disease. No one wants me because I have the wrong colored eyes; I'm too short, I'm too tall, too....something.
Or maybe it's not enough of something. Maybe I don't have enough arms and legs yet, enough eyes, enough lungs, enough cells. I don't have enough to be a person according to some people, and so I don't matter. Let me tell you something, steel egg cartons are not comfortable, and this isn't a country kitchen refrigerator. It's a graveyard put on hold, and each of us has ten years.
I guess it doesn't matter if I might find the cure to cancer, AIDS, or the common cold. It doesn't signify that I could solve world hunger, find a solution to world peace, or write the next folio that changes a language forever. In ten years I'll meet my expiration date, or someone will use my genetic material to make a new spine for a drunk driver, whatever comes first I guess.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Disciple's Prayer Part II
Give us today the food we need,
Provide for our hunger,
Even when we don't hunger for you,
When we don't acknowledge you,
Or give you proper credit,
Where all of it is due.
Fulfill the needs
We don't think we have,
That we don't acknowledge,
Even when we acknowledge you.
Feed our hunger Lord,
But give us deeper hunger,
Strong hunger,
For you alone.
(Words in Italics taken from Matthew 6:11, as written in the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, published by Tyndale House Publishers).
Provide for our hunger,
Even when we don't hunger for you,
When we don't acknowledge you,
Or give you proper credit,
Where all of it is due.
Fulfill the needs
We don't think we have,
That we don't acknowledge,
Even when we acknowledge you.
Feed our hunger Lord,
But give us deeper hunger,
Strong hunger,
For you alone.
(Words in Italics taken from Matthew 6:11, as written in the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, published by Tyndale House Publishers).
Friday, February 20, 2009
Arival
There she stood, sprinkled upon by rays of sunlight through the clouds. Each silver lining on each cloud around the mountain valley seemed to slow time to a still. She could breathe in the mist from thousands of feet below, but she didn't feel cold; she felt sunlight. In the distance she could hear thunder rolling, but for now the storm would be far away.
Half collapsing, she landed with her legs crossed as she surveyed her surroundings. It had been a long climb. Eventually yes, she would have to cross down the other side of the hill. For now, she could reflect, or think nothing at all. Her hand idly caressed the grass beneath it as she felt her breathing return to normal. The ache faded from her chest, but she felt a burning warmth in her limbs.
For now, she was content.
Half collapsing, she landed with her legs crossed as she surveyed her surroundings. It had been a long climb. Eventually yes, she would have to cross down the other side of the hill. For now, she could reflect, or think nothing at all. Her hand idly caressed the grass beneath it as she felt her breathing return to normal. The ache faded from her chest, but she felt a burning warmth in her limbs.
For now, she was content.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Mary Had a Little Lamb
Mary had a little lamb, and don't you dare forget it. They say it had wool as white as snow, but I know better. Really, this lamb was a fiend, a most despicable creature. Poor, dear, Mary had spoiled it to breaking. Of course, she couldn't be told that, for she'd just shrug it off with a cute, lamb-like smile and a swish of her earthy curls.
This lamb, you see, would never do what it was told. On the contrary, this lamb would always be following Mary to school when it should have stayed home. Every school knows a playground is no place for a lamb, but Mary's lamb didn't seem to care much for tradition.
In fact....one day the lamb ran off completely, and Mary looked everywhere for the little lamb, but could not find it. Apparently the lamb had joined a terrorist organization, and was plotting something dangerous, but Mary missed her lamb terribly. Thankfully for the rest of us, the lamb was caught, tried, and proven guilty. Poor Mary was considered by the Judge to be an accessory to the plot, and they locked her up too.
Mary spends her days with her precious lamb in a high security prison, and she still has a little lamb...or a sheep, and don't you forget it.
This lamb, you see, would never do what it was told. On the contrary, this lamb would always be following Mary to school when it should have stayed home. Every school knows a playground is no place for a lamb, but Mary's lamb didn't seem to care much for tradition.
In fact....one day the lamb ran off completely, and Mary looked everywhere for the little lamb, but could not find it. Apparently the lamb had joined a terrorist organization, and was plotting something dangerous, but Mary missed her lamb terribly. Thankfully for the rest of us, the lamb was caught, tried, and proven guilty. Poor Mary was considered by the Judge to be an accessory to the plot, and they locked her up too.
Mary spends her days with her precious lamb in a high security prison, and she still has a little lamb...or a sheep, and don't you forget it.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Disciple's Prayer Part II
May your Kingdom come soon.
May your will be done on earth,
As it is in heaven.
May we not forget our true President, our true King, our true Judge.
May we not distract ourselves from what matters in the end, in the eternity without end.
May we not bow down to our own self-made idols, or other mortals guilty like us.
May your goal be our goal, your love our love, your justice our justice.
May your perfect will become ours, rather than our imperfect will become yours.
May you give us your eyes, your logic, your plans to replace ours that blind, drift, and crumble.
As it is at your feet,
As it is in your untainted creation,
As it is where you dwell,
As it is in your vision,
As it is in your action.
May your will be done on earth,
As it is in heaven.
May we not forget our true President, our true King, our true Judge.
May we not distract ourselves from what matters in the end, in the eternity without end.
May we not bow down to our own self-made idols, or other mortals guilty like us.
May your goal be our goal, your love our love, your justice our justice.
May your perfect will become ours, rather than our imperfect will become yours.
May you give us your eyes, your logic, your plans to replace ours that blind, drift, and crumble.
As it is at your feet,
As it is in your untainted creation,
As it is where you dwell,
As it is in your vision,
As it is in your action.
Friday, February 13, 2009
A Manifestation
Dear Person Two Seats Away From Me:
Thank you so much for your quick rejection to my confession of my love for you. It helped me realize something, that I'm better off without an attachment to you. I realized that I have tresses redder than mahogany, skin softer and sweeter than peaches, and fingernails stronger than most without your help. Not only that, I realized I can sing, dance, frolic, and sway without the aid of a boyfriend. In some cases, a boyfriend would only get in the way.
Don't take it too personally, but I'm breaking off our relationship before it starts. Don't cry for me, okay? And I won't write to that other guy, that's something you'll have to fix all on your own, because I don't need you anymore.
Not yours,
Formerly Your Secret Admirer
Thank you so much for your quick rejection to my confession of my love for you. It helped me realize something, that I'm better off without an attachment to you. I realized that I have tresses redder than mahogany, skin softer and sweeter than peaches, and fingernails stronger than most without your help. Not only that, I realized I can sing, dance, frolic, and sway without the aid of a boyfriend. In some cases, a boyfriend would only get in the way.
Don't take it too personally, but I'm breaking off our relationship before it starts. Don't cry for me, okay? And I won't write to that other guy, that's something you'll have to fix all on your own, because I don't need you anymore.
Not yours,
Formerly Your Secret Admirer
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Disciple's Prayer Part 1
Our Father in Heaven,
May your name be honored;
May we not use your name in vain.
May we not say your name in love,
And fail to love one another.
May we not use your name to curse,
Nor to harm one another.
May we say your name reverently,
With fear, awe, joy, and desire.
May your name be honored,
And glorified.
(Words in italics from Matthew 7:9, New Living Translation, published by Tyndale House in Wheaton, Illinois.)
May your name be honored;
May we not use your name in vain.
May we not say your name in love,
And fail to love one another.
May we not use your name to curse,
Nor to harm one another.
May we say your name reverently,
With fear, awe, joy, and desire.
May your name be honored,
And glorified.
(Words in italics from Matthew 7:9, New Living Translation, published by Tyndale House in Wheaton, Illinois.)
Friday, February 6, 2009
A Reaction
Dear Secret Admirer,
Who the heck are you? To be honest, you really creep me out, like creepy creepy. In fact, I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop writing this love letters. Sheesh, I mean, who writes letters these days anyway? It just screams stalker. I've been sneezing like crazy ever since I opened this note, don't you know perfume can kill some people? I hope you catch my cold.
Besides, you can't possibly be the girl that sits two seats away. She doesn't even know I exist. She's pretty...no, she's hot. Problem is, she's always watching the guy in front of her. What does he have that I don't? Just because he's tall, smart....okay, maybe he does have something going for him. But I'm not much worse!
Why don't you send him love letters and solve both our problems?
Sincerely, the guy two seats away.
Who the heck are you? To be honest, you really creep me out, like creepy creepy. In fact, I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop writing this love letters. Sheesh, I mean, who writes letters these days anyway? It just screams stalker. I've been sneezing like crazy ever since I opened this note, don't you know perfume can kill some people? I hope you catch my cold.
Besides, you can't possibly be the girl that sits two seats away. She doesn't even know I exist. She's pretty...no, she's hot. Problem is, she's always watching the guy in front of her. What does he have that I don't? Just because he's tall, smart....okay, maybe he does have something going for him. But I'm not much worse!
Why don't you send him love letters and solve both our problems?
Sincerely, the guy two seats away.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)