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Category Archives: Writing

Dear So and so,

Dear so and so.  I have so many things I’d like to say to you, but don’t know how to say them.  I don’t want to say the wrong words and upset you.  Yet, I don’t know what the right words are to say.  I guess for one thing, I can tell you…..

Backspace, backspace, backspace…..delete.

****Refresh****

Hey! How’s it going? I just want to let you know that I have something heavy on my heart that I want to share with you.  Remember that time……

Sigh, crumble….toss

Life is hard and I make stupid mistakes.  I speak before I should.  I jump before looking to see if it’s wise to.  I think I have it all figured out and then suddenly realize that I don’t know anything.  Anyway, what I need to say to you is that I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds or make everything a mess.  I hope you forgive me and see that I’m a just a dumb human.

Hover…..hover…..send

Words are hard to deliver, especially if you don’t know if the recipient is willing to accept them.  How many times do you write a novel to someone and know those are the words that you should not send them?  Sometimes you’ll hear the voice to delete the whole rant and then other times you hit send and then kick yourself for being such a butt.

But sometimes you feel a great need to send someone a message, not to be nasty or nosey, but out of urgency.  Even those can be misunderstood.  I just pray that when that happens, that they will see I’m not against them.  If things are quiet on the other end, I may not really realize what’s going on. I have no control over anyone else; I can’t make them listen to me.  Obedience is hard and sometimes you don’t understand why the Holy Spirit prompts you to say something, especially when things result differently than you expected.  God I did what you asked…..help them to receive what you want them to hear.

 

 

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Posted by on June 11, 2018 in Writing

 

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Ode to My Creator

viewfromspruceknobOh how beautiful our Earth is.

Oceans, rivers, springs and streams dress it with blue ripples.

The waters calm my soul when I gaze over those endless bodies.

God splashed the shades of blue onto His canvas of Earth to delight mankind with the soft touches of cool refreshment.

The rains of the Earth remind me that God’s love washes over me continuously.

When storms dance on the waters and cause my heart to fear, He whispers in the wind and I remember that He’s with me and that the storms won’t last forever.

God constructed the mountains, hills, and crags with great views of boundless land filled with vegetation and animals.

I am at awe when I stand at the top and feel the breeze move through my soul.

The climb is never simple, you wonder if you will ever reach the summit.

I peek over the edge and look at the walk that God encouraged me to continue.

The reward is great with perseverance.

Some days and nights, I lay on the cool Earth in great wonder of my God, the creator.

God fills the skies with various brushes of clouds in the day.

Sometimes the clouds are thick and heavy with little light passing through.

Other times the clouds are soft splotches with bright light bouncing onto the earth.

While at night, He sprinkles the sky with stars to dance in the moonlight.

Oh how majestic our Creator is.

 

 
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Posted by on April 22, 2018 in Poetry, Writing

 

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Dear Diary,

I haven’t had this urgency to spill out my thoughts in written form in quite some time.  Pediarylockrhaps it’s because I read that it’s National Dear Diary Day.  I remember my first diary.  My grandmother gave it to me when I was eight or nine years old.  I don’t recall if it was for any particular reason, but I do remember her telling me that I may like to keep a diary, just to have a place to write down whatever was happening in my life.  My first diary was orange and it had a lock and tiny key to keep others from being able to read what I wrote inside it.  I didn’t write in it every day, but I did write in it occasionally.  It was usually when I had some kind of confession to make, like whatever boy I secretly held hands with or was crushing on.  I used various writing utensils to scribble these confessions, including crayon.  After my orange diary was exhausted from the bad scribbling and elementary aged confessions, my grandmother bought me another diary.  This one was bright blue with a girl holding a bouquet of flowers, embossed on the cover.  This diary helped me talk about those things that were bothering me.  My parents had just divorced; I started a new school, and I was having all those preteen emotions that accompany that age.

My teen years, I moved to journaling in spiral notebooks.  The outside covers of the notebooks were decorated with my personal threats for anyone who dared to nose into them.  These entries were sometimes written in code for only me to understand, in case my Mom or sisters ignored the warnings. The words that filled those notebooks included all the things most teenagers deal with…..rebellion, sibling rivalry, hormones, boys and lots of talk about parents being out of touch.

In college, I continued to journal in notebooks.  Those pages were filled with me looking toward the future.  Would I find the right career for myself?  Would I ever find a guy that would truly love me?  I talked about hopes and dreams.  I sought spiritual direction but at the same time questioned God.

I continued journaling off and on throughout my adult life.  I reflected on pregnancy, motherhood, failures, aggravations, finances, God, and all the things life throws at you.  I joined the digital revolution a few years back and started blogging on this page.  Just like my diaries and journals, after a while the entries become sporadic.  Life starts getting too busy or you just neglect taking the time to just sit and pour out the words that are running through your mind.

Journaling for me is a source of communication or prayer to God.  It’s always been easier for me to say what I think with a pen than with my mouth.  Prayer doesn’t have to look like you think it does.  Prayer is simply talking to God.  I think we make prayer more complicated than it needs to be.  When I journal, I’m able to be completely raw with my emotions.  When I’m angry, the words slam against the pages and fall over and under the lines.  When I’m sad, the words dance around slowly trying to find the right beat.  When I’m happy, the words float and bounce from side to side.  When I’m scared, the words sway and scratch trying to find the connection to the paper.

God knows my handwriting.  He’s received piles of letters from me.  He is my greatest love and understands me more than anyone.  He gave me the desire to write, if only for Him.

 
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Posted by on September 22, 2017 in Writing

 

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Destination Awry

Her purpose became disposed by the empty container of a pill bottle.
She didn’t plan to withdraw into this life of addiction.
Her mind was too muddled to even recognize who she had become.
A pale face molded with the signs of abuse that outsiders diagnose.
A face that society thrusts aside, mistrusts, and labels as a lost cause.
Her hunger overcomes anyone who cares or anything that matters.
This appetite gnaws at her heart and suffocates the things she once loved.
How did she allow this to overtake her?
She was so beautiful, but felt so ugly.
She robbed herself with misplaced priorities of living it up,
This left her tossed by the wayside.
Slammed iron bars and a cold cell is her home now.
Rapid breaths of air escape her lungs with tears seeping down her cheeks.
God awaits her call to Him with His ear on her chest.

 
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Posted by on November 13, 2016 in Poetry, Writing

 

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An Empty Vessel

Her heart was hollow and she stood unyielding to anyone that tried to reach out to her.

She was used to the insults flung at her by those who were supposed to love her.

She didn’t trust what people called love.

She heard their artificial claims and witnessed their cold shoulders.

 

Yet, she crossed my path.

I want to show her the love that My Father showed me.

So, I take the time to

Chisel….tap….stand back

Wait.

Pray.

Smile at her with an honest grin

And with eyes that hope,

With eyes that felt like she does….once upon a time.

Until, God shook me and showered me with love that wasn’t deserved,

A pure love, a real love.

I’m waiting for that cloudburst to drizzle upon her face

And fill that heart to capacity.

 
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Posted by on February 17, 2016 in Poetry, Writing

 

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Thoughts Under a Microscope

thoughtbrainA thought cradled for awhile may dissipate into a thrown away opportunity. I’m sure there have been many ideas that I’ve discarded due to fear of failure or rejection. Some reoccur out of the blue, reminding me there is a reason for them resurfacing in my brain matter. But still, I shove them away or forget them once again.
Other thoughts are harder to push away like those of what ifs, why’s or if only. Don’t you hate those types? They haunt you at the oddest times. They remind you or your mistakes. They pinpoint weaknesses within. They jab you with guilt that was erased forever ago.
Then, there are those thoughts that take you away from your circumstances, the daydreaming thoughts. Most of my daydreams as a child were thoughts that ran amuck slinging colors and ideas on the canvas of my impressionable mind. These thoughts carried me to places I wanted to visit and I imagined living at these places and doing things that I’ve never done. The imagination of a child is a room filled with bright colors, uncontrollable laughter, and surreal happiness.
There are those thoughts that you allow to escape your mouth that are laced with anger, hate, jealousy and bitterness. Those thoughts are arrows often shot at those closest to you and then some ricochet wounding innocent bystanders. Sometimes these thoughts are shared with others with a whisper in a corner. The whispers are poison filled darts.
Thoughts, whether kept to yourself or shared can be an igniting spark in both a positive or negative way, depending on the source of the thought. When we allow God’s thoughts to become our thoughts, only good can happen. God is truth, our own fleshy thoughts confuse us and impair what God wants us to see and know. Examining the source of these thoughts come from dissecting the fruit of the thoughts. “But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” Galatians 5:22-23. If the fruit is opposite of this, it is rotten, spit it out and throw it away. Discard the thoughts that destroy. “Do not act like the sinful people of the world. Let God change your life. First of all, let Him give you a new mind. Then you will know what God wants you to do. And the things you do will be good and pleasing and perfect.” Romans 12:2 (NLV).

 
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Posted by on September 21, 2015 in Spiritual Reflections, Writing

 

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A Journal for Travel Musings

The ability to post my thoughts online for whoever happens to stumble upon my blog is fascinating. But, I have a deep obsession with paper. Sometimes, I just have to see my thoughts mark a tangible medium. One of my favorite sections of a bookstore is the stationery section. I have a vacation coming up, which will be unique to our family. We normally go to one spot and stay for a week, but this year we are going on a road trip. We will be visiting several different states and seeing whatever we happen upon. I made up my mind about a week ago to buy a journal just for me to scribble down my voyage. Yesterday, I went to a Barnes & Noble store and explored the journals. I loved many of the different styles, the Italian leather ones with beautifully embossed designs, the journals with a magnetic clasp, spiral journals with an inspirational cover, and handmade journals made with recycled silk. The latter is the one I chose. It has a rough multicolored cover made with recycled silk. I guess my daily dealings with thread in my work, draws me to that type of material. The paper inside is deckle paper. It is a textured paper made from the Lokta plant in the Himalayas. I am now on a journey to find the perfect pen for this journal. I’m in dire need of this vacation and really hope to fill the pages with what I discover along the way.

loktapaper

 
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Posted by on June 15, 2015 in Writing

 

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