Predawn Visitor

I could feel it staring at me though my eyes were closed and the room was still dark. I knew only that it was small with a big presence. I could tell it was small, because its breath on my face was slight. I claim it had a large presence because I had lain there under my covers sensing its proximity for a good five minutes, too afraid to open my eyes.

It was of no use – lying still and silent while my unknown enemy stared. I opened my eyes and met his gaze: small, round, black button eyes blinking in the dark.

I started to speak, but my throat, dry from sleep and fear, prevented me at first.

Finally, I whispered, “Who are you? How did you get here?”

I felt his breath. He blinked once more, and was gone.

Every night after that he returned, watching me until I felt his stare and awoke. I lost sleep, knowing what was to come, unable to keep my drooping eyes open long enough to catch his entrance, not knowing how to keep him from his secret mode of appearance and retreat.

Is this the thing of nightmares? Is this a harbinger of a future of unexpected haunt and impossible solutions to problems I would face?

Beware, dear reader, not of things that go bump in the night, but of things that make no sound at all.commons.wikimedia.orgPhoto: commons.wikimedia.org

One Moon

Last night I sat in my dark living room with the curtains open so I could watch the lunar eclipse, aka blood moon, from the comfort of my living room loveseat. The pictures disseminated in the weeks leading up to it made it look like it would be vivid and amazing.

From my point of view, the moon had more of an orange tinge than the red it appeared to have in those pictures. It was a full moon alright, but it’s size didn’t seem much different from what I have grown used to over half century.

Was it my vision that was off or did I just not have a close enough perspective? Was everyone who saw what I saw, but exclaimed over it just listening to what they were told without paying attention to their own senses?

The moon was eclipsed by a sure and steady shadow moving with unavoidable precision, not that we commons.wikimedia.org. creativecommons licwould want to avoid it. Natural phenomena, whether or not they live up to the hype, are pretty special, after all.

Think of it: that moon, whether appearing fairly ordinary to my unaided eye or whether viewed as the amazingly huge, beautiful orb caught through the lens of a photographer, was seen by people from all points of the earth over which it hangs. The child in Buenos Aires and the nursing home resident in Sheboygan peering out his window, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and the street sweeper in India, the Pepperdine University college student and the Lincoln Elementary School third grader allowed to stay up late all saw the moon last night. People all over the world watched the moon from indoors or outdoors or affluence or austerity.

Every eye looking at that moon, every person with a happy or horrible history, every perspective, whether from comfort or constraint, saw the same light in the sky. And while they were watching, God was watching them.

Photo: commons.wikimeida.org_.-creativecommons-lic.png

One Stone At A Time

Sweat trickled from his hairline down the side of his determined face and into his beard. The sun was at its peak beating with glaring force on the hard earth, but there was no time to rest. His eyes darted left then right as he pushed another stone in place. He dug into his pocket and read again the ancient newspaper he’d found during his work.

Headline: Aggressors attack. Houses destroyed. City gates burned. City walls demolished. Families separated as young and strong taken for re-education. All is lost.

He shook his head. All is lost: three of the saddest words ever written.

Such words of totality, ‘all’ and ‘lost’. He ran his hand across his brow. What was needed was another word, one of redemption. One man to hope is what was needed: Someone to travel through the night and avoid notice; someone to rally those left behind; someone to assess the damage and the need, to pray to God in heaven for protection against despair from intimidating letters and lies and against the plots of enemies.

He scribbled words underneath the old headline.

We work with weapons by our side, even when we go for water. We sleep a light sleep in our clothes. We live lives of fear. But we work despite our feelings. We work because hard times demand hard work. The Lord does not strengthen confident hands doing what is wrong, but fearful hands doing what is right.

www.torange.us, creative commons lic 4

He folded the shred of newspaper and stuffed it between two rocks, pushing and shoving until it was sheltered from weather of every kind. Then he picked up another stone and pushed it into place.

Story prompt: Nehemiah, photo: www.torange.us, creative commons lic. 4

Mrs. Covington’s Here!

Mrs. Covington’s here! Behave yourself. She’ll be watching!

 

Video made with Animato.com

 

Mrs. Covington’s On Her Way

https://animoto.com/play/Q9as0nbO1Yi96kaMaHWecA

Video made with Animato.com

The Scavenger Hunt

Looking back, I should have known. I should’ve seen it coming. But that’s the way these things happen, isn’t it? Not seeing what is clearly in front of you – so close it can feel your very breath?

You see, we had been on a scavenger hunt of sorts: the kind where you go from place to place and take a picture of you and your partners to prove you found whatever was next on the list. It was actually great fun. We’d eaten our pizza and drunk gallons of sparkling water. Okay. I know that sparkling water and pizza don’t really go together, but it tells you something about the complexity of my friendship group. Some of us are pretty normal and others of us try not to be. Anyway, we had eaten ourselves into a state of grease and bubbles that defy description and were all feeling ready for this challenge.

At the third place – it was a statue of a lion by the library – a fellow photo bombed our 800px-New_York_Public_Library_Lion-27527picture. He was nice looking and made a great face and then he struck up a conversation with a couple of us as we walked to the next place and ended up just kind of joining us.

At about the sixth place, we were missing one of the gals. Everyone looked, but she’d just disappeared. Someone suggested she’d gone in a coffee shop and would probably catch up, so we all agreed that was the case and kept going.

By the tenth place of the thirteen original sites we were given, three more of our group were gone. Vanished like ice on a hot day. The facial expressions of the remaining members varied from annoyed to concerned to downright scared spitless.

You know, I should have listened to my scared spitless self then, but I was too embarrassed to acknowledge the thought that popped into my head. I finished the scavenger hunt with one other guy – the guy that had joined us near the beginning. The team members that disappeared? I never saw them again. They were taken away one by one while I maintained a state of denial because things like that don’t happen in my world. By the way, we didn’t win.

Photo: <a title=”By Ken Thomas (KenThomas.us (personal website of photographer)) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons” href=”https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ANew_York_Public_Library_Lion-27527.jpg”><img width=”512″ alt=”New York Public Library Lion-27527″ src=”https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f4/New_York_Public_Library_Lion-27527.jpg/512px-New_York_Public_Library_Lion-27527.jpg”/></a>

Words of the Wise

On July 4th the United States of America celebrates its independence. Despite what any mother of a two year old will tell you to the contrary, independence is important.

“When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.”

So begins the Declaration of Independence. It goes on to state that “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes…” The Declaration of Independence proceeds to list the King’s abuses and the reason for their declaration.

This document concludes, “…as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”

It’s inspiring, really, to think about the sacrifice these men knew was ahead of them. They signed their names anyway. Courage and integrity are good characteristics. Rare, these days, but good.

We’ll save the Constitution of the United States of America for another day. However, http pixabay.com en eagle-america-flag-bird-symbol-219679I’m sure it’s accessible to anyone who cares enough to read it. Please care enough. Let me just say that the ordinary men who framed, organized, and wrote the Constitution of the United States combined federalism, separation of powers, and checks and balances. Not only is independence important, but balance is also important. If you lose your balance, you fall down.

Quotes: Declaration of Independence; Image: http-pixabay.com-en-eagle-america-flag-bird-symbol-219679.jpg

A Sea of Papers

The hallway was a sea of papers thrown every which way as a final act of celebration, defiance, or peer pressure. He reached down and picked up one of the stray papers on the floor. It was crumpled and had two shoe prints on it, one nearly smack in the middle and one leading off its right hand corner. It was comical, really – this annual act of chaos, for what was school if not ordered and organized?

He thought back through the years. He recalled the early years of preschool and kindergarten where he made friends, said goodbye for the day with high fives, and happily absorbed first things like making paper costumes for holidays and counting to one hundred. Memories of home school years with his sisters were a collage of songs about fractions, and reading assignments in the tree house, and timed tests, and the quick red fox jumped over the lazy brown dog typing lessons. He thought of the Middle School years when all around him tried to fit in commonswikimedia.orgwhile feeling out-of-place. And here he was – in the High School hallway he’d walked through countless times. He looked around. The halls were quiet now. Everyone had rushed outside to linger over last goodbyes for the year and then jump into summer with both feet.

What was it really, this routine of sitting and listening and reading and writing and studying and testing? What was the working out problems on a sheet of paper? What was the rehearsing of lines and notes? He stared off in the distance, turning it over in his mind. The future could hold more of the same if he chose, and he did. But not the same. Sitting in a class was a small part of learning. It provided building blocks. But how to use those blocks – that was the real assignment. And how to live his life – that was the true test.

He was on his own now. He would decide what to study just as he would decide what paths to take and which to leave untraveled. The shoe print smack in the middle of the paper? It wasn’t his. But the other one, the one beginning its own trail? A shadow of a smile crossed his face. If it wasn’t his now, it would be.

Photo: Joe Mabel [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], via Wikimedia Commons

A Springtime Sigh

There’s a favorite place with piney scent and water lapping on the shore;
The strum of a guitar or a sweet and gooey s’more;
Voices low and secrets shared and laughter in the air;
And firm and solid knowledge of Jesus with us there.
– CJP

D. James Kennedy Ministries FB

Photo: https://www.facebook.com/DJamesKennedy?fref=photo

Paper Hearts

She shook the snow from her foot. Stepping into a rather large slush pile on the curb wasn’t a good omen for this meeting. Why was she even going? One, she didn’t even know the guy. Two, a random drawing at the local coffee shop probably wasn’t the best way to meet someone. Three, where was her best friend who had talked her into it in the first place? Half-way across the state by now, she guessed – making a trip home to surprise her family on Valentine’s Day. Who surprises her family on a day meant for love?! Well, okay. Maybe that wasn’t quite what she meant. But any sane person would know what she meant without her having to clearly articulate it.

She pulled the paper heart out of her coat pocket and squinted at the address. It was just the next block. When the barista had given them each a pink paper heart with their lattes and told them to write their name on it, it had seemed harmless. She had noticed he told his male customers to write their name and also the name of a local diner or restaurant, enwikipedia.org hearttime, and date. Later, another barista had passed around a glass canister for each to drop in the pink paper. As they left, they were given a heart with a name, restaurant address, date, and time. Her friend’s poor guy would be stood up. If she was any kind of smart, hers would be, too. Still, underneath it all she believed everyone should agree with her assessment: Valentine’s is a day when corny is cool.

She stuffed the heart back into her coat pocket, pulled off a glove to run her fingers through her hair, and stole a glance at herself in the window of a shop she passed. One more building and she would be there. She stopped. What was she thinking? She would just go home. No harm, no foul. As she turned around, she bumped into a man. Mid-twenties, she guessed. Dark hair. Athletic build. Tennis shoes with a small rip on the right side.

An ‘excuse me, maybe you should look where you’re going’ nearly escaped her lips. It didn’t. He looked up from what he’d been reading. In his hand was a pink paper heart.

Valentine’s is a day when corny is cool.

Image: enwikipedia.org-heart.jpg