Out with the Old…

My goodness this has been our theme this new year.  You should see my house… better yet I’m glad you can’t!! My husband has flipped our living room furniture all on a whim last night.  Okay, to me it was a whim he, evidently, had been mulling over this change for a while.  Ten o’clock at night he’s asking me what I think of the new arrangement and I have shut down in sensory overload, quietly yet desperately, trying to talk myself out of a tantrum of stubbornness.  God help the man, he felt the chill as the door shut on my brain and patiently asked me to “think about it.”

I, stiff-necked and gritted teeth, shouted at (in my mind, of course)  “stubborn lady” to c-o-n-s-i-d-e-r it before I start shrieking and throwing pillows.  No, I wouldn’t have done it but by golly I did in my mind.  I think I managed to sound convincing when I said I would consider it and that it will probably grow on me.  I then gathered my companions of comfort and made my way to the shower with my computer, a book and a journal and pen and locked the door to decompress.

My living room was rearranged and furniture displaced AND my dinning room table and hutch were covered with homeless pots and pans.  So, yeah, it was a bit overwhelming AND change unnerves me … just a teeny bit. Continue reading


Charlie and Allison

It didn’t happen like she had seen in countless movies where the lead actress looks across a crowded room to find a handsome mysterious man with eyes trained on her.  No, Allison should be so lucky.  She was the plain, shy best girlfriend of the bride who was so shy she refused to be the maid of honor.

Allison had told Becky she’d regret not standing in but it would be best to spare her the embarrassment of having to pick her off the floor after having fainted.  It was sure to happen, Allison assured her, but it was good for a laugh.  Allison was always good for a laugh.

So, Allison sat there on the steps alone outside the reception hall drinking her glass of wine, that she swore was her last .. two glasses before, when he appeared.  Granted, Charlie wasn’t alone and he didn’t leave the reception willingly but he was charming and polite to the burly man shoving him out the door. Continue reading

Where Am I?

Where am I, Lord?

Where have I been?

I feel as though I have been busy serving You

Not listening for You

Not Worshiping You

How can I see the Word of God alive in those around me

And I cannot see it in me?

Like the two-way glass outside the nursery

The Church can look into my ministry and see me serve

And say I do great things

Yet You see inside my heart, my mind and I wonder what you see.

Strangely I am no longer stressed and ready to give up

But if I were to stop, actually stop and listen to my soul

I hear nothing; feel… nothing

The engine is running

My hands they are still moving

I smile, I encourage, I schedule and I plan

But where am I in all this?

Where is my heart? Continue reading

Help Wanted

“And?” She cocked a brow daring him to put his foot down.

“… but—“

“No,” she said and walked away leaving the rest of his words rushing off the cliff of his final thought like the bison’s being chased off the cliffs to their certain death by Indians.

His chest deflated.  He crumbled to the floor in a terrible puddle with nary a shred of pride to hold the pieces together. 

She wasn’t coming back.  He could count on that.  She said so herself and he knew it to be utterly true. 

Now what was he to do?  Who would clean his house AND do his windows? 

Certainly not Maria.

Take It

All four tires bit into the gravel and skidded to a halt sending a spray of pebbles in the dark empty lot.  She pounded her angry fists on the steering wheel as she screamed from the depths of her furious soul. 

She had had enough with trying to make things work out in her life.  Everything failed.  Plans, relationships, ideas all disintegrated simultaneously and they were now slipping through her fingers.  Rage electrified her blood pushing its way through her veins feeding her brain the poisonous fuel to keep the fury burning.

Mary threw open the door to her sedan with a primal scream that she was sure had reached heaven.

“You can have it, take it, every single piece of worthless shred of my life!”  She screamed into the night.  “Just. Make. It. Stop.  I’m tired of the pain,” she unleashed a river of tears.

Mary doubled over as if the burden on her shoulders had finally become too much to bear.  In one great sob she sunk to her knees and hung her head, giving up what control she had over her life to an invisible God.

Some sacrifice, Mary thought.  Her life was once stellar.  She could have offered God so much more… years ago but now all she had to offer was something that equaled a filthy rag not worth running through the wash.

Come to me all of you who are weary …

“I am so very tired.  I have no strength to fix this.  I don’t even know where to begin.”  The hot tears dripped off her face.  She was too tired to wipe them away.

In that moment a wave of peace and comfort embraced Mary as if God were drawing her to His chest, cradling her in His capable arms.

I give you my peace.  Rest in Me.  The burden is no longer yours.  It never was meant for you to carry.

Mary’s thoughts jumbled in her mind but quickly dissipated.

 Shhh… rest and God tucked her head under His chin and stroked her hair then began to sing over her as if comforting a child… His child.

Making a scene

He sat across the table from her wondering what thoughts kept her eyes distant and despondent and her soft pink lips slightly parted as if she were about to share what exactly it was that kept her in such a state.

Dissatisfied with her lack of response he took a long hard drag off his cigarette and held the vile smoke in, feeling it descend into his lungs until it shot out of his mouth like ash from a volcano poisoning the air they breathed.

She sighed quietly, bringing herself out of the little world she had drifted off to only to realize he had been watching her intently, which made her self- conscious.  She licked her dry lips as she tucked a brown curl behind her ear and sat up straight in her stainless steel bistro chair and finally she looked at him. 

Her nervous smile did nothing for him.  He only blinked in response, if you would call it that, and took another drag before extinguishing the cancer stick, cramming the remains into the gray stained ash tray and cleared his throat as if to speak… only he didn’t.  He seemed to be waiting for her to say something… anything.

She looked away from his piercing grey eyes, feeling the crushing scrutiny of his glare and looked around the bistro taking note of the two couples sitting nearby deep in their own conversations and wished her life was worth talking about but it really wasn’t… not to her at least.

He wanted to ask her, beg her to open up to him but she was terribly timid, beautiful in her own waif like way and intelligent when those rare moments he was able to glimpse inside her heart but Daddy had done his damage on this girl.  Alcohol was a cruel weapon shutting down the girl when she did talk and constantly fed a steady diet of criticism and demoralization produced an insecure introvert but he loved her none-the-less.

He wondered if she would realize her true potential, wondered if his love for her was patient enough to see it happen.  Was he up for the task?   He wanted another cigarette but instead he leaned back in his chair, away from the soft pack, and dug both hands into his thick brown hair and sighed loudly.

 “My father died today,” and as she said that it felt as if some unseen tether had broken away from her vocal chords allowing the words to flow freely.


“I love you,” she said most seriously.

“Are you coming home this time?” 


Without a word he grabbed her hand, stood to his feet and kissed it.  She stared straight into his grey eyes, stood to her feet and kissed him.  She didn’t mind that he tasted like cigarettes or that his shirt smelled of smoke.  It was who he was and in a twisted way it comforted her.

The Forest

Years ago I had a dream about being chased by wolves in a dark forest in the dead of winter.  It was freezing cold.  My mother was with me and she was scared but I told her not to show fear.  She cracked.  The wolves gave pursuit and three singled me out.

Just as one wolf went in for a strike at my heel I held out a crown, a gold crown.  The wolf bit the crown, I twisted it and yanked breaking the teeth of the wolf.

The dream seemed symbolic.  I asked God for revelation and later learned there was a scripture in the bible that seemed most fitting.

Psalm 3:7
Arise, O LORD! Deliver me, O my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw;
break the teeth of the wicked.

I don’t know what the warning was, if it was a warning but it was definitely symbolic.

I came up with the idea for a new novel based on this dream.  I’m going to hash out ideas here on this blog.  I also write poems.

I’m looking forward to exploring my writing here.