I was tired. I had been driving for several hours and decided it was time to let my daughter, Cindy, take the wheel, against my better judgment, while it was still light. I needed some rest before our up coming adventure and letting her drive seemed counterproductive to that end but I had to give it a shot, I was going to need steady nerves and quick reflexes in a few hours.
After getting a few winks in, I glanced out the window. The scenery was a blur and cars along side us (they were only alongside us for a brief moment in time) were giving us unpleasant looks.
“Why are you passing all these cars?”
“Because they’re going slow?”
“I think it’s because you’re going fast. What’s the speed limit?” I queried, already knowing the answer.
“For me or them?”
“Pull over.” This is why teenagers shouldn’t drive, or parents shouldn’t take cat naps. Thank heaven’s we had not passed any “smokies.”
We spent the duration of the trip making our plans and bickering about the ethics of the hair brained idea that I hatched after the last visit home to my parents. I had to admit inwardly Cindy was right, there were other ways, but something had to be done. I threw in some driving lessons by showing her what not to do ( intentionally, of course). We stopped occasionally to stretch our legs but we had a dead line to meet. We must complete our job while it was dark and everyone was sleeping.
Signs appeared telling us we were close to my hometown. Nearer and nearer with each gallon of precious gas. In the long haul the gas bill would be the cheapest expense, not to mention well worth it. I turned on to my parent’s street, slowed and turned off the headlights. Every house was black, no lights on anywhere, no sign of life. Things were going as planned so far. I parked at the entrance to the alley and turned off the ignition. We still had time to repent.
“Let’s synchronize our watches.” Cindy suggested, getting into her role. Who wears watches anymore? I use my cell phone and that wasn’t coming with me. I didn’t need that blasted thing going off and jingling my slowly unsteadying nerves. I wouldn’t be accepting any calls at work tonight.
Stepping out we closed the car doors very gently. Pulling our ski masks down over our faces we proceeded up the alley, cautiously. My mom and dad were light sleepers and we didn’t want to be caught. Mother and daughter slinking around in the dark, miles from home, two states from home actually. Great quality time.
We stopped at the back yard gate and tried the handle. Pad locked. Sure, why should this be easy. A small town like this, no crime and the gate is locked. Cindy cupped her hands to lift me over and I snagged my t-shirt on a loose wire scratching my abdomen. Great, I’ll need a tetanus shot when I get home! I feared I’d fall and call attention to us. No lights came on in the bedrooms. Cindy vaulted over effortless. Gymnastic classes were paying off, they obviously are a prerequisite for a life of crime.
We had chosen a moonless night for this escapade, not intentionally, mind you. I don‘t have the best night vision. Proving this, I tripped over some object in the yard jamming my toe into my ankle. Cindy clamped her hands over my mouth at the start of some unlady like verbiage (sorry, can’t print the expletives here, use your imagination, but remember, I’m a Christian.)
There he was. Our reason for being here at one in the morning. The poor dog’s chain was tangled up around a tree giving him limited motion, his water dish spilled over making a mud pit for him to sleep in. He lay listlessly, head on paws, warily observing us approach. No barking, no tail wagging. Just big sad eyes. Probably expecting some abuse. Definitely not expecting anything good to happen to him. Why should he? He’d been mistreated ever since he was abducted from home. His mother had no idea what would become of him when he was snatched from her side at the tender age of eight (weeks).
We advanced at a snail’s pace, not wanting to risk his getting jumpy. No threat there, apparently. I untangled the chain and tried to coax him to the gate. Wouldn’t budge. Cindy offered him a beef jerky we brought to entice him to follow us. It got his consideration. His head went up so suddenly Cindy dropped the beef jerky and our victim, ignoring our presence, sniffed around for it showing the first hints of a pulse. Now that we had him on his feet we couldn’t budge him by pulling on the chain until he found his treat.
Whistling came up the alley. I had a strong suspicion a person was attached to the melody. Jumping behind a hedge we ducked, squatting on our heels, ready to bolt. Dog followed us now, having eaten his tid bit he wanted more. The quiet listless dog was transforming into an excited one, right before our horrified eyes. It wasn’t so quiet in the back yard now. The whistling stopped. A flashlight scanned the yard, the beam passed over us, returning to us with a swift movement. We’d been caught. By who? All we could see were light spots on our retinas.
Before we could dash off a voice warned us, “Halt, police.”
My life was over. It exploded before my eyes. My future. Incarcerated. Working in the steamy laundry, making license plates, learning to smoke, building muscles at recreation time. Group showers. Waiting for Sunday afternoon visitation. In five years I’d have a hard, tattoo-ed body. A record. Cindy would hopefully get off lighter, juvenile hall, out at eighteen, rehabilitated. Taught a career. No permanent record.
“Come out here so I can see you, please.” So courteous. So far no signs of impending police brutality. “Remove your masks, please.” We were commanded by a uniform aiming a revolver and light at us.
Our ski masks came off allowing our identification.
“Cindy? Marcy? Is that you? Your parent’s didn’t say you were coming to town.”
“Well, they didn’t exactly know.” I responded.
The officer put two and two together and came up with four. Pretty good for a man. The dark clothes, the night time visit, Dog sniffing Cindy’s body, where more beef jerky was secreted. We were on a heist. He killed his flashlight and holstered his weapon.
“Well its about time someone rescued this unfortunate beast.” He announced. “You’re not taking us to the slammer?” Relief flooded my soul. Paroled earlier than estimated!
“Hell no, but I’m not going to assist you either. I do have to uphold some professionalism.” He retreated and vanished into the night. He was never there. He’d been just a fabrication of our over worked imagination.
Tugging fiercely on Dog’s shackles we got to the fence, boosted him over, (it took the two of us, getting tail, belly, etc. in our faces) and raced back to our get away vehicle. But not before the downpour. I hadn’t planned on that but it explains why we couldn‘t see the moon! . Muddy, smelly, wet, Dog was placed on the covered back seat next to Scruffy, my furry son, who sniffed at the new comer and edged away under the drivers seat, yapping his disapproval. Snob.
No sooner had I turned on to the main thorough fare an alarm went off. Guilty conscience? You bet. It was okay now, it was only my cell phone. Answering it I discovered it was my sister.
“Hey Marcy, as long as you’re in town come by here and get these clothes I’ve saved for Cindy. Help me save the postage, will ya?”
“Ellen, how did you know I was here?” Crooks don’t usually get calls on the job. The cop. Her husband, my brother in law. He squealed after all. Coppers! I was thinking like a criminal now.
Home at last. Fifteen hours from start to finish. I had some explaining to do with my husband. He knew where the dog belonged, but how he got here, he could only guess from the muddy paw marks covering the back car seat and windows. I had a hard time convincing him the dog was just a look a like, no connection to the one from my parent’s native soil. I don’t think he bought it, but didn’t wish to accept involvement by association so he refused to continue his line of questioning.
A few days latter the land phone went off. My mother was calling to inform me someone had stolen her neighbors dog! The one she knew I always worried about when I came for my infrequent visits. (mom’s idea of a guilt trip, I‘m there for every major holiday counting ground hog day!)Just incase I still didn't know which dog she was referring to she reminded me of the time I reported them to the SPCA. I happened right under their noses at night. My brother in law, the police officer, claimed the dog was there when he had done his rounds. Well, the dog was there when he made his rounds. We just happened to be there also. The papers called it grand larceny because the owners claimed it was a two thousand dollar blood hound ( An insurance scam?) but they were more concerned about loosing a member of the family. Yeah, one they kept in bondage in the back yard and visited occasionally I was looking at the gas, vet and groomers bills. Fleas, ticks, bald patches, mal nourishment, heart worms, intestinal worms, vaccinations, rabies shots, dental work not to mention shampooing the car upholstery. No, they were right. In the long haul, two thousand dollars was an underestimate. I wonder if I should file for reimbursement. I better not get over confident. One thing was for sure. If my parent’s ever visited, the dog would be unrecognizable. Manicured, fattening up, and, for the first time, eager for companionship, he was not the same brute that had lived across the alley from my child hood home. Now I had to work on Scruffy. Snobbery was intolerable in my house. He needed to remember how he came to be a family member!
Cindy came bouncing home from school all excited.“Hey, mom, get your car keys, we have another job to do!”
“What are you babbling about?”
“One of my friend’s at school was talking about some horses near here that are being abused. Let‘s see, we need a horse trailer, pick-up to pull it, bolt cutters for the fence…….”
I grabbed the vet bills for the dog, mentally multiplied the cost for a horse, covered my ears and ran from the room with Cindy in hot pursuit, laughing her young head off and waving a ski mask in the air.
Prov. 12:10
isaiah 43:1-4
Hosea 13:14
John 10:10
Eph. 4:28
Col. 1:12-13
Monday, April 9, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
teenage driver
I was furious with him. I discovered he had been cheating on me so I went to his place to confront him about it. This was foolish. I should have taken my licks and let him go. Was I subconsciously hoping he'd refute the allegations so successfully I'd believe him and end up in his bed. Who knows what goes on in a teenage girls thinking process. I won't understand myself for years, I'm sure. Well the face off went poorly. We yelled and screamed at each other. Name calling was involved. The scene was colored immature ugly. Teenage hormones on both sides aerosoled the atmosphere. Normally immobile objects became flying missiles. I finished my tirade and left not giving him equal time. My version of getting in the last word. I even got to slam the door shut, vibrating the apartment walls and awakening other tenants. We fought like kids. We were kids. This was practice for growing up. When real love came our way we would hopefully learn from our mistakes.
I pulled my car out and burned rubber. Tires screeching, I sped away as swiftly as possible sending the message I would never be back. Tears were spilling everywhere. I was still rewinding the fight over and over in my mind. What else could I have said? The light up ahead was green, yellow and red before I noticed. In fact I never noticed. There was a loud squealing sound and metal upon metal. I was crushed inside a tin can. The passenger and driver's side doors were separated by 24 inches. I had become very compact, then I became unconscious.
Sirens, helicopters, flashing lights. Gawkers. Accident scene imagines. I had become a statistic. A poster child proving teenage drivers and anger shouldn't be put in the same vehicle. It took hours to untangle me from the wreckage. It was a laborious task. Unfortunately the clean underwear my mother always advocated were no longer clean. Wasted effort on my part. The paramedics applied all their expertise on me. They got me stabilized, intubated and resuscitated after some down time without a heart beat. The helicopter from the local trauma center airlifted me out. I was alive! With life there is hope!!
Once in the hospital I was rushed to surgery. My abdomen was opened by and experienced trauma team and internal bleeding staunched. They removed my spleen. Someone sewed lacerations on my face up. They didn't close up my incision, I would swell and ooze so it was best not to. They packed me with absorbent material covered my exposed internal belly with a sterile plastic sheet that adhered to me and sent me to the intensive care unit. I slept well in the unit. Thank heavens for mercy and medicinally strong drugs.
My parents arrived with my brother. The hospital Chaplin came. Then our minister came. They cried and prayed. Cried and prayed. Cried and prayed. I lay there for two days, their tears falling on my face, hands, arms, heart. They assured me everything would be a-okay. They weren't concerned about the automobile. "Wake up and talk to us.... Please, wake up and talk to us", They begged repeatedly.
Doctor's came and spoke with my parent's frequently, keeping them updated, measuring my progress. My parent's had no doubt I would survive. Strangers came and spoke to my parents. They had more forms for them to sign. My "boyfriend" had the gall to visit me. He didn't appear upset about my condition. How does a nineteen year old carry his emotions. Especially since he had someone else in a side pocket. He probably went to see her when he left me. Hell, she could have driven with him to the hospital.
A few days later I was sent back to surgery. My parents stayed with me till I left my room. They had whispered in my ears about how they loved me. I loved them too but I couldn't express that to them with a tube in my throat. We parted ways at the elevators. It will be sometime before they see me again.
In surgery two nurses and two orderlies lifted me over to the operating bed, identified me, covered me with warm blankets, tucked my arms at my side and spoke gently in my ears about what they were doing. They touched me often, brushing my brow and holding my hands, making me feel important. I heard one of the nurses, a cute young thing, inform her partner she had a daughter my age. Damn, she looked my age. I could sense she was worried the same thing could repeat itself in her own family. She cared for me like I was her own.
A team of doctors arrived and the room got busy. Every one was careful to observe sterile tecnique. Anesthesia was monitoring my vital signs and ventilating me. A nurse was prepping my abdomen, washing over the plastic covering. Doctor's were gowning and gloving. Conversation in the room was reverent. I was the center of attention. They layered drapes over me and my face was covered. They removed the packing sponges, accounting for all that had been placed in me previously. They located my liver and kidneys and examined them carefully. They passed inspection.
The operating team finished up and called it a day. They used staples to close my abdomen. I was cleaned up and covered with another warm blanket. The anesthesia team had turned off the inhalation agents they used on me.
As I lay waiting to be transferred to another room I watched them package things up. My liver, and kidneys went into ice chests airborne to three different states. Three people were going to benefit from my reckless driving behavior. My parent's didn't want to remove my heart and lungs, wanting my chest to remain intact for cosmetic reasons. I'm not sure why. Surely they didn't plan on an open casket with me naked, or low cut attire? Sadly, no one would ever see my chest again, but my heart and lungs could have improved the existence of one, two or three more souls. Right now these organs were just dead weight. The Life Gift representatives didn't push the issue however because they feared my parents would rescind their initial offerings. Asking next of kin for donations is a sensitive and respectful task, I admire how they handled mom and dad, they did it with class. I should have had some say. I should have thought of it sooner but it's kind of late now. The joke is on my parents anyway because an autopsy was to be performed on me and there goes my scarless sternum. They were right though, I will survive....in three individuals that I'll meet latter. Right now I'm at the manufacture's office getting brand new replacement parts. See he can make all things new!
I pulled my car out and burned rubber. Tires screeching, I sped away as swiftly as possible sending the message I would never be back. Tears were spilling everywhere. I was still rewinding the fight over and over in my mind. What else could I have said? The light up ahead was green, yellow and red before I noticed. In fact I never noticed. There was a loud squealing sound and metal upon metal. I was crushed inside a tin can. The passenger and driver's side doors were separated by 24 inches. I had become very compact, then I became unconscious.
Sirens, helicopters, flashing lights. Gawkers. Accident scene imagines. I had become a statistic. A poster child proving teenage drivers and anger shouldn't be put in the same vehicle. It took hours to untangle me from the wreckage. It was a laborious task. Unfortunately the clean underwear my mother always advocated were no longer clean. Wasted effort on my part. The paramedics applied all their expertise on me. They got me stabilized, intubated and resuscitated after some down time without a heart beat. The helicopter from the local trauma center airlifted me out. I was alive! With life there is hope!!
Once in the hospital I was rushed to surgery. My abdomen was opened by and experienced trauma team and internal bleeding staunched. They removed my spleen. Someone sewed lacerations on my face up. They didn't close up my incision, I would swell and ooze so it was best not to. They packed me with absorbent material covered my exposed internal belly with a sterile plastic sheet that adhered to me and sent me to the intensive care unit. I slept well in the unit. Thank heavens for mercy and medicinally strong drugs.
My parents arrived with my brother. The hospital Chaplin came. Then our minister came. They cried and prayed. Cried and prayed. Cried and prayed. I lay there for two days, their tears falling on my face, hands, arms, heart. They assured me everything would be a-okay. They weren't concerned about the automobile. "Wake up and talk to us.... Please, wake up and talk to us", They begged repeatedly.
Doctor's came and spoke with my parent's frequently, keeping them updated, measuring my progress. My parent's had no doubt I would survive. Strangers came and spoke to my parents. They had more forms for them to sign. My "boyfriend" had the gall to visit me. He didn't appear upset about my condition. How does a nineteen year old carry his emotions. Especially since he had someone else in a side pocket. He probably went to see her when he left me. Hell, she could have driven with him to the hospital.
A few days later I was sent back to surgery. My parents stayed with me till I left my room. They had whispered in my ears about how they loved me. I loved them too but I couldn't express that to them with a tube in my throat. We parted ways at the elevators. It will be sometime before they see me again.
In surgery two nurses and two orderlies lifted me over to the operating bed, identified me, covered me with warm blankets, tucked my arms at my side and spoke gently in my ears about what they were doing. They touched me often, brushing my brow and holding my hands, making me feel important. I heard one of the nurses, a cute young thing, inform her partner she had a daughter my age. Damn, she looked my age. I could sense she was worried the same thing could repeat itself in her own family. She cared for me like I was her own.
A team of doctors arrived and the room got busy. Every one was careful to observe sterile tecnique. Anesthesia was monitoring my vital signs and ventilating me. A nurse was prepping my abdomen, washing over the plastic covering. Doctor's were gowning and gloving. Conversation in the room was reverent. I was the center of attention. They layered drapes over me and my face was covered. They removed the packing sponges, accounting for all that had been placed in me previously. They located my liver and kidneys and examined them carefully. They passed inspection.
The operating team finished up and called it a day. They used staples to close my abdomen. I was cleaned up and covered with another warm blanket. The anesthesia team had turned off the inhalation agents they used on me.
As I lay waiting to be transferred to another room I watched them package things up. My liver, and kidneys went into ice chests airborne to three different states. Three people were going to benefit from my reckless driving behavior. My parent's didn't want to remove my heart and lungs, wanting my chest to remain intact for cosmetic reasons. I'm not sure why. Surely they didn't plan on an open casket with me naked, or low cut attire? Sadly, no one would ever see my chest again, but my heart and lungs could have improved the existence of one, two or three more souls. Right now these organs were just dead weight. The Life Gift representatives didn't push the issue however because they feared my parents would rescind their initial offerings. Asking next of kin for donations is a sensitive and respectful task, I admire how they handled mom and dad, they did it with class. I should have had some say. I should have thought of it sooner but it's kind of late now. The joke is on my parents anyway because an autopsy was to be performed on me and there goes my scarless sternum. They were right though, I will survive....in three individuals that I'll meet latter. Right now I'm at the manufacture's office getting brand new replacement parts. See he can make all things new!
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Where am I
I’m confused, nothing unusual about that, but I don’t know how I got here, or where here even is. I’m trying my hardest to reconstruct the events that led me to this place but my recall is indisputably foggy. I remember being caught red handed with the goods I had stolen and hauled off to jail and trial with a jury of my peers, though in honesty my peers would have been just as quick fingered as me. How can they say you’re getting a fair shake if they select citizens that are clean cut! Go figure. Now if they had been my peers, they would have given me a lighter sentence, but in my country death is the penalty. We have zero tolerance for my sort, that is why only the best survived, and I managed pretty well for quite a few years if I’m allowed to blow my own horn. Oh, heck, I’ll blow it anyway. I made a splendid living off the wealth of others. Then I hooked up with a partner. Crime is best performed alone, no weak links. He was a tough dude, no heart whatsoever. At least I cared enough to rob from those that could afford it. He would steal a rattler from a baby. It was actually his fault we were snared. The “babe” he stole from last was an undercover cop with a good set of ….handcuffs; and she knew how to use them. She could actually tie me up anytime.
My memory starts to fade from there. I just know with full assurance that I don’t deserve to be where ever it is I am, where ever this is. It seems to be a nice house, eloquently furnished. People have been walking in and out of this room but I’ve been snoring to throw them off. I won’t be able to keep this up forever; eventually they’ll start trying to rouse me from my nap. Nap. Sleep. Oh, wait, I remember now. They were putting me to sleep. Lethal injection. What happened? Did it fail? They can’t try you twice for the same crime, I don’t think. That’s called double jeopardy. (Every criminal knows the law!)
I opened my eyes and examined my arm. No puncture holes. Hmmm. I stood up slowly to check everything out. I didn’t feel light headed, woozy or unsteady. For professional executioners they really messed this one up, but hey, I’m not going to file any complaints. I inspected the room I was in a little more fully. It wasn’t a jail cell or an intensive care unit. So far so good. It was someone’s bedroom. Nice posh stuff here. Pocketing a few small discreet easily pawned items, I peeked out the door and slipped into the hallway. I needed to get out of here before they discovered their mistake.
People were bustling about a large room, carrying trays of food and beverages. I must be in a subdivision of the United Nations. So many different outfits. Suits, saris, togas, kilts, hoop skirts, buckskins, veils, turbans, stove top and cowboy hats. Maybe this is a costume party. Gee, and I did not bring anything to wear!
I made myself inconspicuous and hunted down the exit.
“I see you decided to rejoin the living.” A voice said from behind me, stopping me in my tracts. I braced myself for trouble but got a tray of dining apparatus instead. These look like real good eating utensils. Solid, not gold plated! The tray was heavy enough.
“Bring this to the dining room please; I have other tasks to do.”
“What’s going on here?” I questioned.
“Our owner is due home any minute; we’re getting ready for his return.”
“Your owner?”
“Our owner, he’s yours too, he just purchased you.”
“No one owns me!” I exclaimed and shoved the tray back, not before snatching half dozen forks (without her even noticing!) They‘ll provide adequately for my needs for several decades, providing I get away successfully.
I gave up being discreet and took long determined strides to the door. No one seemed to care, no one body slammed or cuffed me. There must be and elaborate system on the grounds to prevent escape. As I said before, I know how to stay alive. Doesn’t surviving lethal injection prove something?
An explosion of light greeted me at the door. Wow, this is the best weather I’ve ever set eyes on. What happened to the smog and air pollution? Activity surged through the streets. I quickly blended into the mob. This costume party must be a public event. It isn‘t near Halloween is it? I was in jail so long it’s likely I could have lost tract of the time. Everyone was excited about the return of some dude. They were organizing an enormous bash in his honor. Every one was heading towards the main city gate in parade style with welcome home banners, colorful balloons and confetti. They all sported the same happy faces. I wanted to sucker punch someone just to see if his or her smile was painted on. Every one had a seal on their bodies, some sort of brand. I want to get far away before some one hog ties me and gives me a trademark as if I was personal property!
What a wonderful city, no graffiti or dumps in sight. (Hey, even a thief can have standards!) They have a wonderful city manager. There was an obvious absence of motor vehicles, hence the lack of smog. I wonder how they got around here in the Land of Oz!
This place had to be over the rainbow!Well since everyone was heading east, I think I’ll go west. Not a police officer in sight, unless of course he was dressed up like a Roman guard, there were plenty of them. The revelers seemed organized, however; not rowdy like those at my execution. At that awful event there was a lot of stone throwing, cursing and screaming. The pain was excruciating until the lethal injection put me out of my misery. Yet...something was tickling my memory. What? Something I did...something I said. I've heard of amnesia following traumatic events, that's what I must have. (Yeah, thieves know about medicine also! We’re a pretty smart lot!)
Out side the city limits I picked up speed. There were only a few stragglers here; most of the multitude was at the major entrance scanning the horizon for their "owner's" return. People saw me leaving but no one tried to detain me. Breaking out was effortless, no bars or locks, hunting dogs, or radar. Whomever it was they claimed bought me didn’t get much for his money.
This country was heaven on earth. Even the countryside was pristine. No leaves on the ground, perfect blooms on the bushes, tall well watered trees. Abundant wild life chattering away, hidden in the foliage. Where the hell was I? I wish I had my global positioning device. I began jogging down the well-manicured path. My brain was in turmoil. Something was itching my mind. Something I said or did. WHAT!
Up ahead a lone figure came into view walking towards me, or rather the city. He was whistling as though he was returning home after a hard days work. I stopped and waited. He was alone, unarmed. I could take him if I had too. Closer. I could make out his features now. A pleasant looking man. He looked kind; the kind that easy to take down. Closer. Memory flashing, flashing. Words echoed in my head. I was remembering….what?
I hung out with this guy once. I knew him. I met him briefly…where? He was at my execution….a judge? Juror? Cop? No, a criminal. No.
I recalled talking to him, pleading. “Remember me when you come into your….” Into his what? Kingdom! He was an innocent prisoner being put to sleep next to my hapless, unrepentant partner and me!
He was in front of me now, crying and laughing. “I promised you’d be with me in paradise!”
I fell in to his arms and wept like a baby. Me, a thief, saved and redeemed at the last moment. I really didn't deserve to be here. Grace is wonderful!
He heard my pockets jingle and grinned. He explained to me that everything I had swiped in the city belonged to me; I stole from the mansion that had been prepared for me and me alone.
The master had come home, unexpectedly through the back door!
Math 24:42-44
Math 27:44
Luke 23:40-43
John 5:24-29
John 14:1-4
Rom 6:11, 17-23
1 Cor. 6:19-20
1 Pet 1:18-19
Print Date: Mar 22 6:32am
Copyright © 2007 Yahoo! Inc. All Rights Reserved.
My memory starts to fade from there. I just know with full assurance that I don’t deserve to be where ever it is I am, where ever this is. It seems to be a nice house, eloquently furnished. People have been walking in and out of this room but I’ve been snoring to throw them off. I won’t be able to keep this up forever; eventually they’ll start trying to rouse me from my nap. Nap. Sleep. Oh, wait, I remember now. They were putting me to sleep. Lethal injection. What happened? Did it fail? They can’t try you twice for the same crime, I don’t think. That’s called double jeopardy. (Every criminal knows the law!)
I opened my eyes and examined my arm. No puncture holes. Hmmm. I stood up slowly to check everything out. I didn’t feel light headed, woozy or unsteady. For professional executioners they really messed this one up, but hey, I’m not going to file any complaints. I inspected the room I was in a little more fully. It wasn’t a jail cell or an intensive care unit. So far so good. It was someone’s bedroom. Nice posh stuff here. Pocketing a few small discreet easily pawned items, I peeked out the door and slipped into the hallway. I needed to get out of here before they discovered their mistake.
People were bustling about a large room, carrying trays of food and beverages. I must be in a subdivision of the United Nations. So many different outfits. Suits, saris, togas, kilts, hoop skirts, buckskins, veils, turbans, stove top and cowboy hats. Maybe this is a costume party. Gee, and I did not bring anything to wear!
I made myself inconspicuous and hunted down the exit.
“I see you decided to rejoin the living.” A voice said from behind me, stopping me in my tracts. I braced myself for trouble but got a tray of dining apparatus instead. These look like real good eating utensils. Solid, not gold plated! The tray was heavy enough.
“Bring this to the dining room please; I have other tasks to do.”
“What’s going on here?” I questioned.
“Our owner is due home any minute; we’re getting ready for his return.”
“Your owner?”
“Our owner, he’s yours too, he just purchased you.”
“No one owns me!” I exclaimed and shoved the tray back, not before snatching half dozen forks (without her even noticing!) They‘ll provide adequately for my needs for several decades, providing I get away successfully.
I gave up being discreet and took long determined strides to the door. No one seemed to care, no one body slammed or cuffed me. There must be and elaborate system on the grounds to prevent escape. As I said before, I know how to stay alive. Doesn’t surviving lethal injection prove something?
An explosion of light greeted me at the door. Wow, this is the best weather I’ve ever set eyes on. What happened to the smog and air pollution? Activity surged through the streets. I quickly blended into the mob. This costume party must be a public event. It isn‘t near Halloween is it? I was in jail so long it’s likely I could have lost tract of the time. Everyone was excited about the return of some dude. They were organizing an enormous bash in his honor. Every one was heading towards the main city gate in parade style with welcome home banners, colorful balloons and confetti. They all sported the same happy faces. I wanted to sucker punch someone just to see if his or her smile was painted on. Every one had a seal on their bodies, some sort of brand. I want to get far away before some one hog ties me and gives me a trademark as if I was personal property!
What a wonderful city, no graffiti or dumps in sight. (Hey, even a thief can have standards!) They have a wonderful city manager. There was an obvious absence of motor vehicles, hence the lack of smog. I wonder how they got around here in the Land of Oz!
This place had to be over the rainbow!Well since everyone was heading east, I think I’ll go west. Not a police officer in sight, unless of course he was dressed up like a Roman guard, there were plenty of them. The revelers seemed organized, however; not rowdy like those at my execution. At that awful event there was a lot of stone throwing, cursing and screaming. The pain was excruciating until the lethal injection put me out of my misery. Yet...something was tickling my memory. What? Something I did...something I said. I've heard of amnesia following traumatic events, that's what I must have. (Yeah, thieves know about medicine also! We’re a pretty smart lot!)
Out side the city limits I picked up speed. There were only a few stragglers here; most of the multitude was at the major entrance scanning the horizon for their "owner's" return. People saw me leaving but no one tried to detain me. Breaking out was effortless, no bars or locks, hunting dogs, or radar. Whomever it was they claimed bought me didn’t get much for his money.
This country was heaven on earth. Even the countryside was pristine. No leaves on the ground, perfect blooms on the bushes, tall well watered trees. Abundant wild life chattering away, hidden in the foliage. Where the hell was I? I wish I had my global positioning device. I began jogging down the well-manicured path. My brain was in turmoil. Something was itching my mind. Something I said or did. WHAT!
Up ahead a lone figure came into view walking towards me, or rather the city. He was whistling as though he was returning home after a hard days work. I stopped and waited. He was alone, unarmed. I could take him if I had too. Closer. I could make out his features now. A pleasant looking man. He looked kind; the kind that easy to take down. Closer. Memory flashing, flashing. Words echoed in my head. I was remembering….what?
I hung out with this guy once. I knew him. I met him briefly…where? He was at my execution….a judge? Juror? Cop? No, a criminal. No.
I recalled talking to him, pleading. “Remember me when you come into your….” Into his what? Kingdom! He was an innocent prisoner being put to sleep next to my hapless, unrepentant partner and me!
He was in front of me now, crying and laughing. “I promised you’d be with me in paradise!”
I fell in to his arms and wept like a baby. Me, a thief, saved and redeemed at the last moment. I really didn't deserve to be here. Grace is wonderful!
He heard my pockets jingle and grinned. He explained to me that everything I had swiped in the city belonged to me; I stole from the mansion that had been prepared for me and me alone.
The master had come home, unexpectedly through the back door!
Math 24:42-44
Math 27:44
Luke 23:40-43
John 5:24-29
John 14:1-4
Rom 6:11, 17-23
1 Cor. 6:19-20
1 Pet 1:18-19
Print Date: Mar 22 6:32am
Copyright © 2007 Yahoo! Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Friday, March 9, 2007
Tough Love
Tough love
I looked over my
shoulder. My husband's dad was watching us leave, he stood in the middle of the
yard, tears forming in his eyes. My husband was too ashamed to look back. We
had been asked to leave because of a silly misunderstanding. Basically it was a
"you're under my roof so you follow my rules," disagreement. Well, we
slipped up, now we were being shipped out. It was obviously hurting dad more
than he'd admit. This had been my only home since I got married and I would
miss it.
We marched on through
the gate and into the jungle carrying what little luggage we owned, forming a
path as we went, cutting down vines and crawling over logs, or pushing them
aside. It was a path we'd never find again. It would grow wild and overgrown
with more bushes in time. We'd never find our way back, but even if we did dad
was placing sentries around the parameters to keep us out. How cold hearted, how brutal.
We kept on going and
going, looking for the perfect place to restart our lives. I doubt we would
find it. Home had been picture perfect, Husband's dad had spent years
cultivating and landscaping it before Hubby was even born. All we had to do was
the upkeep, which was easy. Sometimes living easy, living off your parents
prevents you from growing up.
Something hit me on
the back. Glancing up into the trees I saw a monkey hanging from a branch with
one hand. The other hand was holding an apple.
"Look, its Mixy". I announced.
Hubby looked to where
I was pointing and tried to coax Mixy down. "She must have followed us all
this way. Come here girl." Another apple came flying down and pummeled off
Hubby's chest, forming a bruise next to a scar he'd had for as long as I could
remember. "Hey, what are you doing." he yelled. Then the strangest
thing happened. Mixy narrowed her eyes, curled the right side of her lip up and
showed us her teeth. She was snarling. I've never seen a snarl before; it was
ugly. She vanished back into the trees. Hubby had named Mixy, how odd she
turned on him like that. What did she have to be angry about?
We trudged on and
stopped midday to rest and eat some berries. There was a river nearby I went to
get a drink from. The liquid in my cupped hands looked horrible filled with dirt
and sediment and little wiggly things. What happened to the clear fresh water
from home? Wasn't this the same river? Upstream we came upon a bear lying
strangely still on its left side. Curious. It didn't seem to be breathing. We nudged
its body hoping it would awaken. Hubby leaned down and breathed into its mouth.
His first memory of his dad was of him breathing air into his lungs so he
thought he’d give it a shot with the breathless mammal. . Nothing. We've never
seen an animal so listless; this must be death, we’ve never seen death before
though we’d been warned of its potential.
"What's wrong
with it?" I asked Hubby, who was older and wiser than me.
"I don't know.
It must be a fake." If he was trying to not alarm me, it didn’t work. He
didn’t tell me until later about the bear’s right side, a side slicked smooth
of fur, an area the size of our two new coats, the coats dad gave us just
before he opened the door for the last time for us.
On we went, stopping
for the night. We picked a cave to shelter in. I felt weird sensations in my
stomach. Hunger. Another new experience for us. The table was always set at
home. We grew our own food and had a ready supply.
"Do you want
this apple?" Hubby queried.
"No, thanks,
I've had enough of apples to last a life time." Apples got us into this
trouble. Don't ask how, it's a long embarrassing story. We dined on what plants
we could find nearby. Everything was wild and hard to pick.
It was cold inside so
we huddled together in our fur coats, placing leaves over us for more
insulation till finally Hubby decided to try to get a fire started. He
scratched some rocks together over dried grass till eventually we had a little
blaze. We heard some growling outside so we went to the entrance and peered out.
There were two lions standing feet away, showing us what huge fangs they
possessed.
"Hey, boys, glad
to see you." Hubby exclaimed, but jumped back quickly when the growling
grew louder and the beasts leaned forward as if to attack. Thankfully the fire
kept them from getting closer. What in the world is going on? We've never been
attacked by animals before. We all respected each other. We never had any
trouble with the wild life around home. Food was, or should I say had been,
plentiful for all, no need to get nasty. The lions stared at our fur coverings,
looked us in the eyes as they backed away putting distance between us before
they turned tail and loped off. They didn’t trust us; after all we’d been to
each other for years, mutual trust had crumbled.
Several days, many
scratches and blisters later we found a location to settle down and maybe call
home. There was a large field and waterfall handy. We explored a gigantic cave
that I added some home touches to, a few ferns, some flowers, and wall art
depicting the wild life nearby. Hubby started the only life he knew. Farming.
Things weren't as easy for him here, thorns and weeds strangled out most of the
vegetables. He came back every night exhausted, scratched and sun burnt.
Discouragement hit us hard. We had difficulty facing each other, I silently
blamed him for us being here and he blamed me.
Then one day I bent
over in severe pain. The pain lasted forever and I believed it was ripping me
in two. Hubby was frantic. We may have had some issues with each other but we
were all we had. I lay on the cave floor writhing and screaming while Hubby
stayed by me holding my hand and crying. Something was awfully wrong. Hours and
hours past with minutes of respite. Sweat was pooling on the floor. I was bleeding.
Suddenly something popped. I screamed as my innards tumbled out of me. Ahhhhh.
Hubby stared and
stared. Then he picked up whatever it was and brought it to my head where I
could get a good view of it. My "innards" made noises, gurgly-cooey
sounds. It appeared to be a miniature duplicate of us. It had arms and legs and
a face similar to us, but it was dwarfish and bloody. I pushed it away in
terror.
Hubby held it close
to him and it reached for his breast with its tiny mouth. Boy, if my painful
condition scared Hubby this thing licking his breast startled the pee out of
him.
Some natural instinct
in me finally rose to the surface and I reached for the creature and held it to
my breast where it started suckling, I could see milk oozing out of the corners
of a little mouth. "I think this is the beginning of our family. Do you
think we should give it a name? I like the sound of 'Cain' "
"A family? We
don't have time for a family. I don't know if we're even "able" to
raise Cain." Was Hubby's response before he passed out cold.
Gen 3:21-24
Romans 8:22
too late
I sat at the back of the chapel because I might get called away any minute.
Not to mention, I was still mad at her. I recalled our last argument too well.
So I stayed at the back watching the mourners enter and walk down the aisle
to view her body. So many exclamations of disbelief, no one had seen this
coming. If only she were here to see the crowd assimilating, maybe she'd have
stayed, maybe not. If only I could summon her back, point my finger at her and
say,” I told you so. See people really did care." Her spirit was willing to
stay but her flesh was weak. Only I had any influence on her and I lost. She
wouldn't listen to me. Her arguments were stronger. She was convinced God
would forgive her even if he didn't approve of her tactics. It wasn't the
absence of God in her life that caused her do to this, it was the failure to
continue with the meds that God had provided. It was user error, not the
manufacturer's.
Her "true" friends held each other for comfort. She should have
spoken to them earlier but people get uncomfortable with those kinds of
conversations, and it would have embarrassed her. There wasn't enough
experience in dealing with these topics despite the literature out there. I
hope now they will seek out that literature, she sure should have.
I was amazed at some of the faces I saw come in. I wanted to yell,” hypocrite",
and "murderer". They hadn't actually manually killed her body but they
massacred her spirit. They laughed at her. They teased her. They belittled her.
They made her feel invisible, unimportant. She had responded with good humor,
her mask a perfect fit to hide the pain and doubts and hurts. She had them
convinced she couldn't be bruised. She was tough, fun, outgoing. She did enjoy
a good laugh and applauded good retorts, but it was the sincere insults hidden
in humor that got to her. She had used humor as a coat of armor. If she had
just taken the mask off occasionally and tried honesty with some of these
people maybe she'd still be here. She had God on her side and followed the
rule of turning the other cheek but being only human this got old. Kids can be
cruel on the playground and it doesn't stop there. Cruel kids grow into cruel
adults. They weren't completely responsible for destroying her, because she had
a big part in it. She had to constantly fight her body's responses to low
hormones. She finally had discovered anti-depressants. As the body ages it
produces less and less of desirable mood chemicals and needs a boost much like a
diabetic needs outside insulin, or someone needs thyroid hormone. It's not
shameful to be on pills. These pills gave her a boost but like anything they
can only do so much. She would feel better and lighten up on her meds, then
swing down to the pit of despair again. Why should one take meds just to feel
good around people? She would get to feeling blue and let the insults injure
her. But her mask did a good job. She would retaliate with a joke, good humor.
She wouldn't let the aggressor know they scored a point, that their blade had
found the target. Boy that was a fantastic mask, it was waterproof and
concealed the tears. It made people think she was invulnerable. "Oh, if we
didn't like you, we wouldn't tease you," or, "It's just her, it's okay." were
regular rejoinders. They took a pebble size hunk out of her soul with every
recital. "That's just her," when she wanted to be taken seriously, "That's just
her," when she blundered, "That's just her," when she tried to correct an
error. She was eaten in small bites. If she had seen this crowd maybe she would
have stayed.
They kept coming, friends (and foes) from church and from work. However, these
misty eyed people have short memories. In time this will be forgotten. Though
there is no one else like her someone else will be teased mercilessly and end
up the same way. Cruel kids, cruel adults. I could hear someone asking
questions, Why? How? What on earth for? The questions were useless because if
they could be answered it wouldn't reverse a thing. She would still be dead.
This was it the grand finale, the results of cruel kids grown up. She hadn't
left a note. It wouldn't have solved anything. Why did they deserve any
answers? It would have been like throwing pearls before swine.
The eulogy was nice, flowery, vaguely generic. It hit the good points. Gave
the family hope of seeing her again. Tried to educate the attendees on the
subject of her method of death. Created sobbing. Said good bye. Left the body
just as dead. The words should have been spoken when she could hear them. She
might not have believed them, though. Actions speak louder than words.
I watched as the figures filed past the coffin. They said good bye. Some
cried. Oh, give me a break, you didn't even like her, I thought. Maybe they had
repented. There is hope for the next victim of depression. Some lingered, and
were genuinely respectful. Some just went to follow the crowd. It really was
her, they all thought." If we didn't like you we wouldn't tease you,"
became, "We liked you, why didn't you let us help you?" It was incredibly
touching.
The family went last. I couldn't bear watching them so I closed my eyes. They
were closest to her and they still had not noticed her broken spirit as they
were caught up in their own problems. I didn't feel real sorrow for them. As
the guests exited I could hear plans being made for lunch, tennis, movies.
Already forgotten. Other plans being made. Life goes on...for some.
I had been able to stay for the whole affair and then some. This surprised
me. I had really expected to get called away. The lights were being turned off
so I eventually got up, walked to the pulpit where ushers were getting ready
to close the lid (they paid no attention to me) and I looked down at the
tranquil face. They had not done her justice. No matter what they say, a
corpse doesn't look good. A dead face just looks like it's caked in make-up.
Her spirit was definitely gone, I was one hundred percent certain. "Good bye
old friend, I can't wait to be reunited with you in heaven." I kissed my
forehead and turned to the last, brightest light and went home.
Not to mention, I was still mad at her. I recalled our last argument too well.
So I stayed at the back watching the mourners enter and walk down the aisle
to view her body. So many exclamations of disbelief, no one had seen this
coming. If only she were here to see the crowd assimilating, maybe she'd have
stayed, maybe not. If only I could summon her back, point my finger at her and
say,” I told you so. See people really did care." Her spirit was willing to
stay but her flesh was weak. Only I had any influence on her and I lost. She
wouldn't listen to me. Her arguments were stronger. She was convinced God
would forgive her even if he didn't approve of her tactics. It wasn't the
absence of God in her life that caused her do to this, it was the failure to
continue with the meds that God had provided. It was user error, not the
manufacturer's.
Her "true" friends held each other for comfort. She should have
spoken to them earlier but people get uncomfortable with those kinds of
conversations, and it would have embarrassed her. There wasn't enough
experience in dealing with these topics despite the literature out there. I
hope now they will seek out that literature, she sure should have.
I was amazed at some of the faces I saw come in. I wanted to yell,” hypocrite",
and "murderer". They hadn't actually manually killed her body but they
massacred her spirit. They laughed at her. They teased her. They belittled her.
They made her feel invisible, unimportant. She had responded with good humor,
her mask a perfect fit to hide the pain and doubts and hurts. She had them
convinced she couldn't be bruised. She was tough, fun, outgoing. She did enjoy
a good laugh and applauded good retorts, but it was the sincere insults hidden
in humor that got to her. She had used humor as a coat of armor. If she had
just taken the mask off occasionally and tried honesty with some of these
people maybe she'd still be here. She had God on her side and followed the
rule of turning the other cheek but being only human this got old. Kids can be
cruel on the playground and it doesn't stop there. Cruel kids grow into cruel
adults. They weren't completely responsible for destroying her, because she had
a big part in it. She had to constantly fight her body's responses to low
hormones. She finally had discovered anti-depressants. As the body ages it
produces less and less of desirable mood chemicals and needs a boost much like a
diabetic needs outside insulin, or someone needs thyroid hormone. It's not
shameful to be on pills. These pills gave her a boost but like anything they
can only do so much. She would feel better and lighten up on her meds, then
swing down to the pit of despair again. Why should one take meds just to feel
good around people? She would get to feeling blue and let the insults injure
her. But her mask did a good job. She would retaliate with a joke, good humor.
She wouldn't let the aggressor know they scored a point, that their blade had
found the target. Boy that was a fantastic mask, it was waterproof and
concealed the tears. It made people think she was invulnerable. "Oh, if we
didn't like you, we wouldn't tease you," or, "It's just her, it's okay." were
regular rejoinders. They took a pebble size hunk out of her soul with every
recital. "That's just her," when she wanted to be taken seriously, "That's just
her," when she blundered, "That's just her," when she tried to correct an
error. She was eaten in small bites. If she had seen this crowd maybe she would
have stayed.
They kept coming, friends (and foes) from church and from work. However, these
misty eyed people have short memories. In time this will be forgotten. Though
there is no one else like her someone else will be teased mercilessly and end
up the same way. Cruel kids, cruel adults. I could hear someone asking
questions, Why? How? What on earth for? The questions were useless because if
they could be answered it wouldn't reverse a thing. She would still be dead.
This was it the grand finale, the results of cruel kids grown up. She hadn't
left a note. It wouldn't have solved anything. Why did they deserve any
answers? It would have been like throwing pearls before swine.
The eulogy was nice, flowery, vaguely generic. It hit the good points. Gave
the family hope of seeing her again. Tried to educate the attendees on the
subject of her method of death. Created sobbing. Said good bye. Left the body
just as dead. The words should have been spoken when she could hear them. She
might not have believed them, though. Actions speak louder than words.
I watched as the figures filed past the coffin. They said good bye. Some
cried. Oh, give me a break, you didn't even like her, I thought. Maybe they had
repented. There is hope for the next victim of depression. Some lingered, and
were genuinely respectful. Some just went to follow the crowd. It really was
her, they all thought." If we didn't like you we wouldn't tease you,"
became, "We liked you, why didn't you let us help you?" It was incredibly
touching.
The family went last. I couldn't bear watching them so I closed my eyes. They
were closest to her and they still had not noticed her broken spirit as they
were caught up in their own problems. I didn't feel real sorrow for them. As
the guests exited I could hear plans being made for lunch, tennis, movies.
Already forgotten. Other plans being made. Life goes on...for some.
I had been able to stay for the whole affair and then some. This surprised
me. I had really expected to get called away. The lights were being turned off
so I eventually got up, walked to the pulpit where ushers were getting ready
to close the lid (they paid no attention to me) and I looked down at the
tranquil face. They had not done her justice. No matter what they say, a
corpse doesn't look good. A dead face just looks like it's caked in make-up.
Her spirit was definitely gone, I was one hundred percent certain. "Good bye
old friend, I can't wait to be reunited with you in heaven." I kissed my
forehead and turned to the last, brightest light and went home.
the stalker
Sitting in my car in the cold isn't my idea of fun but I had an assignment to do. I was on a hunt for personal flaws, not mine, his. I wrapped my hand around my Starbucks coffee and nibbled on my favorite breakfast snack, a cinnamon scone. There he is, my subject. He stood on the top steps, plain and harmless looking, and studied his surroundings. Reading his face I thought he appeared weighed down with emotion. He took the steps one at a time successfully making it to his auto without busting any bones on the icy pavement. How did he do that with perfect balance? I couldn't swear his feet even touched the surface. He didn't bother to lock the door to his house, what a fool.
Great, no one has been on the road since the snow fell overnight. Trailing him without being noticed will be difficult. I managed to trace his tire tracks since he wasn't skidding. Not being one to ever look back, he never saw me in his rearview mirror, he just forged onward.
Pulling over and parking he trekked down the city sidewalk. His first stop was at the newsstand. He didn't purchase any thing but he whispered in the blind man's ear who owned the stand, then he placed a small card an piece of paper on the counter. Purchasing a periodical I glanced at the card, an ophthalmologist’s number, with a blank check!
Subjects next stop was at the soup kitchen. A volunteer outside was guarding a clear, empty acrylic safety box available for donations. He slipped a bill through the slot. A few passersby gawked at the denomination; then, whispering among themselves emptied their pockets of change and made a contribution. The soup kitchen official yelled profuse gratide after the small group of donators. This yielded a domino effect as more approached and the box needed to be replaced every fifteen minutes.
Subject proceeded to saunter casually down the street that was slowly filling with morning commuters. At the abortion clinic he paused and lowered his head. He approached a young woman who was weeping by the entrance, she had to still be in high school. I couldn't hear a word that was said but she responded affirmatively. She painted a brave face on and pulled out her cell phone. Subject stayed as she spoke to some one, holding her free hand, nodding encouragement.
Subject approached the park. Light snow decorated the benches and trees, even making the trash bins look attractive. There was a homeless man awaking from his night binge, his bench was slightly sheltered under a lean-to facing away from the northerner. Subject sat down nest to Homeless and inhaled the fresh clean air, exhaling foggy rings into the sky... I sat nearby, close enough to eavesdrop, and pretended to read the magazine I bought. Good house Keeping. I should have paid more attention to my purchase, this magazine could lead me into good habits.
"Are you here to arrest me?" Homeless asked in a monotone. At this point jail was a comfortable goal for him, offering meals and a blanket.
"Why would I do that?"
"You saw me take your money, I know you did."
"It was your money. It was meant for charity."
Homeless looked contrite. "I shouldn't have taken it till it was offered me, and I used it for booze, someone else would have benefited better with it, can you forgive me."
"I've forgiven you all the other times. But you must come back to see me in the morning. We're having another support group."
"I'll try," Homeless muttered eyes downcast, not believing he was forgiven; again. "But I just keep letting you down."
"It's not me you let down."
Subject traced his way back to his auto. There was an older couple with the young girl at the clinic, they were hugging and crying. Her parent's, I suspect. I heard snatches of conversation, "We'll be here for you....Don't make a mistake....Pregnant with you when we married....." The teenager looked aghast! Funny how each generation assumes they are the first to err. Other unfortunate girls stopped to ponder their decisions as they observed the family meeting, then, looking at the cold brick building they dug their cell phones from their purse bottoms. The mother spotted Subject, gasped and grinned. They recognized each other. Subject didn't wish to intrude right now so he lifted a finger to his lips and nodded. I sent a silent thankful prayer heavenward.
As we passed the soup kitchen I saw a delivery truck unloading can goods they just purchased with their recent income. The volunteers were being asked to stay longer to help stock the shelves, which they did whole heartedly. Diners filed out the front door patting satisfied tummies. I dropped a few bills into the acrylic box.
And the newsstand had a closed sign hanging, that promised to reopen after the owners cataract surgery next week. Customers were invited to help themselves to free newspapers till his return, which they did, dropping tips into a nearby coffee can. Free newspapers and I had to buy a copy of Good House Keeping! Again, I dropped some money on top of the change in the coffee can.
Subject's street was still pristine, with only the tell tale signs of our wheels. He climbed the steps quicker, with a lighter heart and walked down the hallway to the back of the main room as I watched from the picture window. He scrutinized the large living area, it could hold more visitors than came. It was his vision to see it with standing room only some day. He checked the cabinets and laid out tomorrow's dishes and soul food; bread and wine. He had open house regularly for various support groups that combined their cause at several weekly meetings. The groups gave birth to more helpers so He wouldn't have to work alone. Hating solitude, he lived for company. He proceeded to the farthest wall and leaned back. Spreading his arms wide he faded into the cross that adorned the stage, his eyes resting on me! Where did he go?
I had been tailing Subject for some time now, trying to determine if he was the genuine article. I think I'll visit him tomorrow morning. He will certainly be surprised to see me, or will he? I went home for my Saturday night cleansing and set the alarm for 9:00 Sunday morning. I absolutely needed the assistance of his generic support group, it was designed for sinners only, of which I'm club captain.
Bright and early the next day I crossed the threshold of Subject's home with a old man scheduled for cataract surgery, a family of three, soon to be four, several patrons of the soup kitchen and a sober drunk. We had to hunt for vacant chairs, Subject just hung around up front, his arms out stretched, happiness pouring out of his heart.
Math 18:22
Eph 5:1-7
Heb 10:24-25
1 Pet 3:13 The Stalker
Great, no one has been on the road since the snow fell overnight. Trailing him without being noticed will be difficult. I managed to trace his tire tracks since he wasn't skidding. Not being one to ever look back, he never saw me in his rearview mirror, he just forged onward.
Pulling over and parking he trekked down the city sidewalk. His first stop was at the newsstand. He didn't purchase any thing but he whispered in the blind man's ear who owned the stand, then he placed a small card an piece of paper on the counter. Purchasing a periodical I glanced at the card, an ophthalmologist’s number, with a blank check!
Subjects next stop was at the soup kitchen. A volunteer outside was guarding a clear, empty acrylic safety box available for donations. He slipped a bill through the slot. A few passersby gawked at the denomination; then, whispering among themselves emptied their pockets of change and made a contribution. The soup kitchen official yelled profuse gratide after the small group of donators. This yielded a domino effect as more approached and the box needed to be replaced every fifteen minutes.
Subject proceeded to saunter casually down the street that was slowly filling with morning commuters. At the abortion clinic he paused and lowered his head. He approached a young woman who was weeping by the entrance, she had to still be in high school. I couldn't hear a word that was said but she responded affirmatively. She painted a brave face on and pulled out her cell phone. Subject stayed as she spoke to some one, holding her free hand, nodding encouragement.
Subject approached the park. Light snow decorated the benches and trees, even making the trash bins look attractive. There was a homeless man awaking from his night binge, his bench was slightly sheltered under a lean-to facing away from the northerner. Subject sat down nest to Homeless and inhaled the fresh clean air, exhaling foggy rings into the sky... I sat nearby, close enough to eavesdrop, and pretended to read the magazine I bought. Good house Keeping. I should have paid more attention to my purchase, this magazine could lead me into good habits.
"Are you here to arrest me?" Homeless asked in a monotone. At this point jail was a comfortable goal for him, offering meals and a blanket.
"Why would I do that?"
"You saw me take your money, I know you did."
"It was your money. It was meant for charity."
Homeless looked contrite. "I shouldn't have taken it till it was offered me, and I used it for booze, someone else would have benefited better with it, can you forgive me."
"I've forgiven you all the other times. But you must come back to see me in the morning. We're having another support group."
"I'll try," Homeless muttered eyes downcast, not believing he was forgiven; again. "But I just keep letting you down."
"It's not me you let down."
Subject traced his way back to his auto. There was an older couple with the young girl at the clinic, they were hugging and crying. Her parent's, I suspect. I heard snatches of conversation, "We'll be here for you....Don't make a mistake....Pregnant with you when we married....." The teenager looked aghast! Funny how each generation assumes they are the first to err. Other unfortunate girls stopped to ponder their decisions as they observed the family meeting, then, looking at the cold brick building they dug their cell phones from their purse bottoms. The mother spotted Subject, gasped and grinned. They recognized each other. Subject didn't wish to intrude right now so he lifted a finger to his lips and nodded. I sent a silent thankful prayer heavenward.
As we passed the soup kitchen I saw a delivery truck unloading can goods they just purchased with their recent income. The volunteers were being asked to stay longer to help stock the shelves, which they did whole heartedly. Diners filed out the front door patting satisfied tummies. I dropped a few bills into the acrylic box.
And the newsstand had a closed sign hanging, that promised to reopen after the owners cataract surgery next week. Customers were invited to help themselves to free newspapers till his return, which they did, dropping tips into a nearby coffee can. Free newspapers and I had to buy a copy of Good House Keeping! Again, I dropped some money on top of the change in the coffee can.
Subject's street was still pristine, with only the tell tale signs of our wheels. He climbed the steps quicker, with a lighter heart and walked down the hallway to the back of the main room as I watched from the picture window. He scrutinized the large living area, it could hold more visitors than came. It was his vision to see it with standing room only some day. He checked the cabinets and laid out tomorrow's dishes and soul food; bread and wine. He had open house regularly for various support groups that combined their cause at several weekly meetings. The groups gave birth to more helpers so He wouldn't have to work alone. Hating solitude, he lived for company. He proceeded to the farthest wall and leaned back. Spreading his arms wide he faded into the cross that adorned the stage, his eyes resting on me! Where did he go?
I had been tailing Subject for some time now, trying to determine if he was the genuine article. I think I'll visit him tomorrow morning. He will certainly be surprised to see me, or will he? I went home for my Saturday night cleansing and set the alarm for 9:00 Sunday morning. I absolutely needed the assistance of his generic support group, it was designed for sinners only, of which I'm club captain.
Bright and early the next day I crossed the threshold of Subject's home with a old man scheduled for cataract surgery, a family of three, soon to be four, several patrons of the soup kitchen and a sober drunk. We had to hunt for vacant chairs, Subject just hung around up front, his arms out stretched, happiness pouring out of his heart.
Math 18:22
Eph 5:1-7
Heb 10:24-25
1 Pet 3:13 The Stalker
fire
The signs of the times were getting worse. As the years go by it's harder and harder to worship God. We were having a discussion on recent events. The community we lived in was sponsoring a tribute to the new alcohol factory set up in the neighborhood. It had given jobs to many local residents and increased the population, bringing more money to local businesses so a large party was being planned to honor the CEO'S and owners of the company. The whole town was required to attend because the city managers wanted a unprecedented attendance. All political shenanigans. Bill boards were erected all over town glorifying the almighty beer bottle.
Obviously we as a church had to decide to not attend. We were against the effects of alcohol: increased car accidents, deaths, alcoholism, family violence, teenage pregnancies,etc etc etc.
Well, since our intentions of non attendance were presented to the mayor, we had been under a magnifying glass. People came through out the days to warn us that our decision was not making us popular with the locals. Members of our church were being harassed on the streets, crosses were being torched on their lawns and their children were bullied at school by other kids being coached by their parents at home. We lost quite a few adherents to the other side. It was just a party after all. They didn't have to buy any liqueur and they could be left in peace after wards. Basically, they succumbed to the pressure and ignored God's prompting.
So here, three of the church officers, sat in the business office, in the late hours trying to find a solution that would be acceptable to all without compromising our believes. And praying. Praying is always tops on the list to be sure we're doing things God's way.
Some of us started squirming in our seats. Something seemed off. It was getting warm so Abe got up and adjusted the air conditioner, this is when he noticed it. Steam was slipping slowly under the closed door. We jumped to our feet while Mark reached for the door knob. His hand jerked pack instantly, red and blistered. We were trapped. The fire was right outside the door and there was no exit. We poured drinks (lemonade, cokes, etc.,this wasn't a closed door liqueur party) onto a jacket and stuffed it under the door.
I pulled a table over to the wall under the windows. We were in the basement of the annex so the windows were up high, very small and just above the ground. I could see feet milling around. Great help was on the way. On further inspection I realized the feet belonged to the fire committee. Those in charge barbecuing the meat...us. We, the hard core members of the church, were being executed. Some of those outside were wearing white sheets with holes for eyes to disguise themselves. Like we'd be able to identify them in a few minutes!
Abe broke some windows but it wouldn't do any good, none of us would be able to squeeze through the tiny openings.. The door was starting to smolder and the roof was starting to cave in on us. Would the fire alarm or sprinklers go off. No. The cowards in white had taken care of that. I could see the mayor in the crowd. He bent down and peered in.
"We warned you guys. Hope we send a strong message to the rest of your group with this little happy hour." He stared at us real hard. "Hey, who is that fourth guy with you?"
We looked around. Who was he talking about? There were only the three of us. Odd, even though flames were entering our space and fumes were replacing the oxygen we felt no discomfort, no labored breathing, no sweat poured from us. We felt no adrenalin rush, no panic, no fight or flight response. Mark's hand had healed of it's red blisters.Those outside were experiencing considerable discomfort,though. The sparks were bouncing off them and igniting their sheets. Fools, they could step back but they wanted to watch us suffer. One or two actually passed out from the heat.
The Mayor started shifting from foot to foot. Agitated. He stared real hard at something behind us. " Hey, guys, get some axes. This has gone far enough, let's get these guys out!" He ordered. His helpers seemed genuinely confused.
"It's gone to far,Ned. They'll press charges and I'm not going to jail for this." One of his comrades announced. "No, way," others proclaimed.
Ned grabbed an ax and started swinging it at the window enclosures. His allies couldn't get near enough to stop him, so intense was the blaze. Those that tried keeled over dead from the intensity of their own fiery creation. We stepped backwards into the inferno to avoid being struck by the ax or flying wood fragments. Someone pushed me forward away from a section of blazing roof that dropped to the floor,
"Thanks" I said.
"For what." I heard from two sources in unison ,no where near me or visible through the smoke.
"Who pushed me?"
"I don't know, someone just splashed water on me." Abe declared.
Eventually we were able to crawl out, with help Ned offered, pulling on us. I was the last to exit and was the heaviest and widest. It took some effort to yank me through the enlarged opening but I received an added push from someone behind me. Who? Everyone else was out. As the last foot touched ground and we raced to safety the building collapsed. Perfect timing. Those that chanced a backwards glance spotted a man slipping away from the rubble, smiling and whistling. Totally unharmed. Totally transparent. Totally awesome.
"Where's the other guy?" Ned asked. Looking around. We shrugged, not attempting to explain what we suspected. Ned smelled horrible. Smoke,sweat and fear all emanated from his body. His clothes were ripped, smudged and frayed. We smelled like Old Spice and Dial soap, and still looked presentable. Not bad for near victims of a raging bonfire. Those that had intended to kill us has been ensnared in their own plot, lying scattered about on the ground. Fire engines wailed down the street.
"You guys tell your church they don't have to come to the welcoming party. It's not that important anymore. In fact. I think you might see me on Sunday mornings, if I get out of jail in this lifetime." Ned announced. Sometimes you just can't believe what your ears hear. This was one of those times. Ned was a hard core drinker, non-believer. I wish I knew what or who it was that changed his mind.
The next day the fourth member of our committee came by my house. He'd been out of town on business and had not yet heard about the church annex burning down.
"Any thing new happen while I was gone?" Daniel queried.
Proverbs 1:10-19
Daniel 3: 1-30
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
earthquake
- This trip to my mother’s has certainly brought my daughter and me closer together. At least we’re both in the front seat! She with her IPOD attached to her ears text messaging some unseen friend while I drove and listened to the news. Another Amber alert has been issued, a local alert warning the public to be on the look out for two brothers who didn’t make it home after school. They were probably playing and lost tract of time. Scruffy, the family pet, (don’t call him a pet to his face) jumped up and growled. Boy, he was really stretching his little ten-pound body to get my attention, yapping in my ear at some unseen danger. Little dogs get excited over miniscule things.
The earth started to shake abruptly; it actually got Cindy’s attention. She dropped her cell phone and pulled the plug on her IPOD. The road shook some more. The trees on the side started to sway. Rocks started to slide down the hillside. Scruffy howled in my ears. I hit the brakes to push him back just as a large tree toppled on to the hood. If I had gone a foot further it would have landed on the roof and crushed us! Scruffy sat back and sighed with relief. How did he perceive these things? Some times he could be down right spooky.Cindy and I pushed on our jammed doors. Thank heavens I’ve been on a diet so we crawled out the windows, six months ago it would have been a tight squeeze. I gasped at the sight around me. The back road was blocked with rocks, and a two-ton tree was preventing me from going forward. I’ve lied about trees jumping out in front of me so often my insurance company will love this one.
Cindy tried to call her dad, my husband, on her cell phone but didn't get a signal. This was a little used back road with no prospective traffic. It looked like the best course of action was hoofing it, something Cindy was unfamiliar with, I informed her she would pick it up easily, just put one foot in front of the other, over and over again, until we see civilization. She gave me the look.- I grabbed some emergency supplies I kept in the trunk, a flashlight-radio-toolbox combo, first aide kit, sneakers, snacks and water, and bundled them up in a blanket. Off we went through the woods, with Scruffy in tow. He was a tittie baby, no leash needed; he went wherever momma went.
- Up ahead between the trail to grandmother’s house and us several big ugly looking wolves crept into view. We stopped advancing, they started advancing, we commenced walking backwards, they kept coming forward. I scooped up Scruffy who was acting all Napoleon, (little dog syndrome), gave up caution and ran! The wolves were hot on our backs. I heard Cindy wail and turned to see a wolf snag her red cape, then a tremor hit and we tumbled, down a hole, sliding on an uneven rocky, dirty slope until we thudded on the bottom, several stories below. Everything I carried scattered over the floor. Thank heavens nothing broke, except the snickers bars. We were barely scratched, however I had a wet spot I suspected came from Scruffy who was performing some incriminating self-grooming. I had to think about this, walking through woods to grandma's house, a red cape, wolves. Why does that sound familiar?
- We found ourselves in a huge black chamber. It’s miraculous we fell down a slope instead of plummeting to our deaths into the center. Cindy began to trek into the cave on the heels of Scruffy who appeared to be following something. I advised waiting here for help until I spied the wolves leaning over the opening, growling angrily. They kept testing the gap with their enormous claws as though considering following us. I decided to remove temptation and leave the range of their sniffers.
- We stayed along the wall, leaving rocks piled on each other or marks here and there to retrace our way if necessary. Something started coming towards us in the total darkness past the range of our flashlight. It was another light! And it was moving fast, up and down like a roller coaster. It couldn’t possibly be a train: could it! The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel? Maybe we were in a subway! Keep dreaming. I aimed the flashlight and caught view of two kids on a bike! One pedaling and one perched on the handlebars, legs on either side of the single headlight.
- It seems they had been looking for the missing kids from the Amber alert when the seismic activity occurred dropping them into this cavern. The girl’s bike had been severely damaged so they had to double up on the banged up metal survivor. A boy, James, with tattoos and a girl, Vicki, with jewelry in her nose, brows and upper lips. Brother and sister. They were ecstatic to see other people.
- Cindy took one look at the girls facial piercing and said, “Mom….”
- “No!”
- “But mom,…”
- “No!”
- The newcomers to our afternoon outing informed us that the path they came down was a dead end, so we proceeded down another tunnel, on the advice of an inner voice. Yes, I hear voices in my head!
- Cindy lagged behind to apply lipstick and conceal the smudges on her face with powder. Thank heavens she had the presence of mind to bring her purse! I scowled at her and noticed for the first time the attention James was trying his best to not pay my daughter. He had offered to let Vicky ride the bike solo and was keeping pace a few steps ahead of Cindy. Teenagers! Keep on ignoring her, I mentally advised.
- We trekked on, leaving markers as we went and crunching on candy. I told you I had emergency supplies!We sensed a strong draft coming down a particular passage way and gambled in its favor. There were many little sub caves along this route. Scruffy got excited and raced off ahead, barking fervently. He found a way out! No. He found some more kids! Great. They were tied up and crying. It seems we found the two misplaced brothers. Their brand new wicked stepmother had plotted to get rid of them and stuffed them here, in a cave so dark you couldn’t tell if your eyes were open or shut, until she made better arrangements. We never would have found them if Scruffy hadn’t led us to them. He was sitting on his haunches wagging his tail and looking up at something only he could see. Like I said, spooky little dog. The way out had to be near! Unless of course with my luck it had been concealed by the recent earth-moving event.
- “Don’t ever complain about being grounded again,” I counseled Cindy as we loosened the rope on ankles and hands.
- The terrified young boys had been in the dark, alone, and crying for some time. When they were released from their bonds they clung to Cindy and me for dear life. Scruffy jumped up and greeted them with warm wet kisses eventually relaxing them with his winning ways. Thank heavens once again for chocolate, I offered them some with bottle water.I was beginning to feel like the pied piper. I was now hauling five kids and being led by a dog in pursuit of freedom.
- Cindy called out in pain, she had twisted her ankle and James bent over eagerly to examine it.
- Yeah, Cindy, that trick is pretty old, I thought, but said,” Let’s stop to rest for a minute. I’m sure you're okay but I’ll bandage it up.” I proclaimed, elbowing my way in front of Romeo. Extricating the first aide kid from our bundle I wrapped up a perfectly normal looking ankle, no swelling, no bruising. Hmmmm.
- As we sat and regrouped, James started singing, “Oh, God our help in ages past….”
- “Wait, you know church hymns!” I blurted out.
- “I play drums in the church band,” James informed me.
- I gawked. Tattoos, leather vest, head bandana, church band; didn’t compute. What kind of church, I started wondering, probably not a legitimate one.
- We all joined in the singing between sips of water and candy munching. Gradually we started hearing yelling. Looking up I noticed some light starting to become exposed overhead. People were up there moving tree limbs from a sheltered opening and calling out to us.
- Climbing up on a boulder I started lifting the younger kids up to reaching hands. Then James ascended, after hoisting his twisted but salvageable bike up, and stretched his arm down to grab Cindy’s wrist. A prominent ink sign on his forearm proclaimed, “True love waits”. I blinked. It was getting darker, I had definitely misread that.
- On the outside, a man praised me for shooting two flares up through the tiny opening. He added our singing helped them to pin point our location. I have no idea what flares he was referring to, but my singing should have been a warning sign not a beacon of hope.
- A crowd of saviors was at hand, having been nearby searching for the abducted boys. My husband was present; he’d been looking for me for hours after finding our car. He recognized it by the tree on top of it. He did not intend to call the insurance company again. He then had found Cindy’s torn red cape and feared the worst.
- One of the group, a woman, started retreating, inconspicuously. The kids we had liberated started pointing and bellowing, there went their abductor! Their dad hurled himself at her and she was heaved off screaming her innocence, tied like her victims had been. I’m guessing that was the end of this marriage. Imagine being on the search team for kids she had been responsible for hiding. I bet she hadn’t put her whole heart into the hunt.
- James and Cindy were off to the side exchanging cell phone numbers, I presumed. Oh, what the heck, the kid didn’t seem so bad now. True love had better wait!
- Up in the sky two shooting stars, the "flares" traced a path towards home. Mission accomplished, they had been busy guiding and protecting some of the human race, noticed only by the canine. Not bad for a days work. Now they had to file their reports before retiring for the night. Guarding humans was exhausting, but an angel’s work is never done. Well someday it will be.
- Back at home I just finished a soothing hot bath, laden with soap suds and aromas, when the door flew open. Doesn’t anyone here know what a closed door means?
- “Mom!” Cindy cried staring at me. I slapped my hands over my belly, but too late; my secret has been exposed.“
- Okay, just one!” I answered the unasked question, “But only in the navel like mine, no nose, tongue, cheeks or brows.” I’m really going to have to learn to lock the doors.
- Psalm 34:7
- Psalm 104:4
- Psalm 139:7-12
- Isaiah 30:21
- Matthew 18:2-7
- 1 Corin. 7:1-9
- Heb 1:14
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
It Happened One Night
I came home from work exhausted. I stuck my mail in my purse and climbed the stairs to my apartment ready to slip into some house shoes and sleep the night away but...darn; I made a previous commitment at a time when I had temporarily lost my sanity. My Sunday school department was going to bring comfort and cheer to a homeless community downtown and I wanted to look as pious as the rest so I signed up for the expenditure, thinking it would help me out being seen by the upper stratosphere in the church. Looking in my pantry for something to eat before I went to the church I realized payday was still a few days away and my food supplies were languishing, along with my landlord’s patience; I was few days past due on the rent.
Slapping some peanut butter on a slice of bread, I grabbed my supplies for tonight, a bag of coats I had purchased at good will, pulled on a sweatshirt and coat and headed reluctantly on my way out into the cold dreary darkening night.The church caravan of vans and cars was loaded up with all the donated goodies and ready to go, they had just been waiting for me, (darn it, they did not have to, they could have gone on and I could have gone back to my cozy warm bed!). We drove to the grimiest part of town I had ever seen. I would not come here in the daylight, let alone at sunset.
The caravan pulled up under a bridge that sheltered several trashcans being utilized as community space heaters by dozens of scroungey looking men and women. Make shift lean tos, pup tents and cardboard boxes were scattered about with sleeping bags and small individual sized “space heaters“, these belonged to the elite property owners who never ventured far from their meager belongings.
A band of men separated from the human waste pile and met the lead car, which held the minister, Bro. Mike. After a short discussion one of the men shook Mike’s hand and directed him to a parking area where we popped open our trunks and set up for business, handing out socks stuffed with toiletries, blankets, coats, bibles, and lastly but not least a treat of hot dogs and hot cocoa!
Joshua, the man that had met us, placed several men at each station and went about encouraging participation in our services by the many scarred, soiled and odorous persons present and those newly arriving. Numerous physical and mental ailments were present in this group of homeless individuals, weeping sores, hacking coughs, bronchitis, paranoia, mistrust, and alcoholism, to name a few. I wished I had thought to bring facemasks and gloves for protection, not to mention a bullet proof vest and pepper spray! (Talk about paranoia!)
Slowly a few curious and needy approached the cars and accepted our ware, warmth for the body, stomach and soul. I could barely conceal my dislike for these vagabonds. Why should I help those not interested in helping themselves?Joshua and a man named Tom came to my car to help distribute coats. Joshua was a comfortable person to be with, but I certainly was uneasy about the scars on his forehead, and the blood stains on his gloves.
What I thought would be a meager supply of jackets for this large group became an infinite supply. I could have sworn we’d run out by now but for every arrival Josh pulled a coat out of the trunk. I started mentally counting, at least sixty had come and gone, I could have sworn we only had about fifty coats! As we handed out each garment, I automatically said “God bless you” to each recipient with no genuine expectations while Josh simply said, “Bless you.” I felt the conviction of his sanction, as though he really predicted results.
At one point I had full hopes we would have to pack up and go as weighty drops of moisture fell from the skies, (thank heaven’s we can go!-sang my soul). Tom even remarked on the timing of the potential thunderstorm the weatherman had forecasted. Josh merely responded, “Why are you always so doubtful, Tom?” The rain clouds receded.
During some of the lulls while the impoverished gathered at other booths, Josh would fill me in on the lives of some of the dispossessed souls,(excuse me, but did I look like I cared? Pardon me if I yawn.)One young girl had been beaten by her drunken parents and wouldn’t go back home. I had asked why she didn’t seek a shelter and he informed me that the shelters could only house so many and it was first come first serve. Since the young girl was still trying to finish college she did not always make it to the shelter in time if she stayed to long at the library studying. Wow, she had more determination than I did. Homeless and still striving for an education.
One “gentleman” was a lawyer. This I found hard to believe, but Josh described a series of mishaps caused by undiagnosed bipolar disease that sent the man’s livelihood spiraling down hill until it reached rock bottom.
Another man lost his job and apartment because he did not have sufficient financial reserves having imprudently chosen to attempt to supplement his income with gambling. This hit a nerve with me, as I tended to hit the slot machines and casinos in my spare time, which is why my rent was late. I existed from paycheck to paycheck, I was but one paycheck away from living here myself. Josh fixed his eyes on me with this story, as though he was reading my psyche.“What are you staring at me for?” I asked defensively, it was as though he knew my thoughts; that I feared the same fate could be in store for me. He gently lowered his gaze to my sweatshirt, which advertised a gaming casino in the area. I blushed; I had not realized what top I had seized in my haste. This particular casino survived on most of my income!
“If you were a gambler, and I’m not saying you are, the money would be better spent on pursuing a career“
“What makes you think I don‘t have a career?”
Again, he looked down at my purse where a brochure for higher learning I had sent off for was showing itself, it must have been in today’s mail.
The last straggler approached the car and I had to inform him we were out of coats.
“No, there’s one more,” Josh informed me reaching into the trunk’s dark interior and producing the last coat.
I investigated one more time and confirming it was empty, I closed the trunk shut. How did the supply last until every single needy soul received one?! I latter learned that no one left empty handed from any of the make shift distribution booths. Every one was amazed at the unending source of supplies. What was the cause of our luck!
Now, at last I could get a hot dog and some hot cocoa to warm my interior. On the way to the hot dog stand I noticed Josh had some difficulty walking, apparently his feet had been injured in the past leaving him with a permanent limp.
Nearing the food station I discovered the lawyer hugging and crying with Carol, our church secretary. It seems Carol had been looking for this man for years. She had just handed him a hot dog and gone completely speechless, those nearby feared she was having a stroke. He was barely recognizable but it was definitely her lost forty-something baby brother. A lost sheep had been brought home!
“Looks like my family will be short tonight.” Josh sighed, happily, shivering. He had not gotten a coat and had personally given the last one away! How had I not noticed that?! Was it because I was in such a hurry to finish up and get out of here?I do not know why I did it, don’t ask me to explain, but I offered Josh my coat. I would be able to purchase a new one on payday if I avoided gambling. As I helped Josh into the coat I noticed more blood stains on his shirt back.
I also did something else beyond my comprehension. I sought out the young college girl and offered her a couch to sleep on until she graduated in May. She accepted ecstatically.It‘s not like she had never slept with strangers. She wouldn't take up much space since everything she owned fit into a backpack. As it would turn out, she would eventually get a degree in social work and I would work for her with hours tailored around my school schedule!
The newly found lawyer/brother would get pharmaceutical help for his problems and lobby for the hapless friends he left behind.
The man who had lost it all through his own folly got a job with our lawn maintenance crew and went on to own his own business, employing only those down and out but willing to improve. He wouldn't do any landscaping for casinos, (no need to tempt his luck.)
Having learned that bad things do not just happen to bad people, (and that but for the grace of God, there goes me!), a different girl boarded the van than had gotten off it hours earlier. (Had I learned so much in such a short time? What have I been doing with my life?) I found my coat draped over my seat. Looking out the window, I saw Joshua, washed of blood and limpless, with his eleven loyal followers trekking down the highway. I bowed my head and thanked God for allowing me the privilege of meeting the most famous dispossessed man of all.
Eccl. 9:11-12
Mark 4:39-41
Mark 15:17
Luke 9:58
Luke 24:39
John 20:24-28
Rom 12:9-13
Rom 12:20-21
Rom 12:17
Heb 13:1-3
Slapping some peanut butter on a slice of bread, I grabbed my supplies for tonight, a bag of coats I had purchased at good will, pulled on a sweatshirt and coat and headed reluctantly on my way out into the cold dreary darkening night.The church caravan of vans and cars was loaded up with all the donated goodies and ready to go, they had just been waiting for me, (darn it, they did not have to, they could have gone on and I could have gone back to my cozy warm bed!). We drove to the grimiest part of town I had ever seen. I would not come here in the daylight, let alone at sunset.
The caravan pulled up under a bridge that sheltered several trashcans being utilized as community space heaters by dozens of scroungey looking men and women. Make shift lean tos, pup tents and cardboard boxes were scattered about with sleeping bags and small individual sized “space heaters“, these belonged to the elite property owners who never ventured far from their meager belongings.
A band of men separated from the human waste pile and met the lead car, which held the minister, Bro. Mike. After a short discussion one of the men shook Mike’s hand and directed him to a parking area where we popped open our trunks and set up for business, handing out socks stuffed with toiletries, blankets, coats, bibles, and lastly but not least a treat of hot dogs and hot cocoa!
Joshua, the man that had met us, placed several men at each station and went about encouraging participation in our services by the many scarred, soiled and odorous persons present and those newly arriving. Numerous physical and mental ailments were present in this group of homeless individuals, weeping sores, hacking coughs, bronchitis, paranoia, mistrust, and alcoholism, to name a few. I wished I had thought to bring facemasks and gloves for protection, not to mention a bullet proof vest and pepper spray! (Talk about paranoia!)
Slowly a few curious and needy approached the cars and accepted our ware, warmth for the body, stomach and soul. I could barely conceal my dislike for these vagabonds. Why should I help those not interested in helping themselves?Joshua and a man named Tom came to my car to help distribute coats. Joshua was a comfortable person to be with, but I certainly was uneasy about the scars on his forehead, and the blood stains on his gloves.
What I thought would be a meager supply of jackets for this large group became an infinite supply. I could have sworn we’d run out by now but for every arrival Josh pulled a coat out of the trunk. I started mentally counting, at least sixty had come and gone, I could have sworn we only had about fifty coats! As we handed out each garment, I automatically said “God bless you” to each recipient with no genuine expectations while Josh simply said, “Bless you.” I felt the conviction of his sanction, as though he really predicted results.
At one point I had full hopes we would have to pack up and go as weighty drops of moisture fell from the skies, (thank heaven’s we can go!-sang my soul). Tom even remarked on the timing of the potential thunderstorm the weatherman had forecasted. Josh merely responded, “Why are you always so doubtful, Tom?” The rain clouds receded.
During some of the lulls while the impoverished gathered at other booths, Josh would fill me in on the lives of some of the dispossessed souls,(excuse me, but did I look like I cared? Pardon me if I yawn.)One young girl had been beaten by her drunken parents and wouldn’t go back home. I had asked why she didn’t seek a shelter and he informed me that the shelters could only house so many and it was first come first serve. Since the young girl was still trying to finish college she did not always make it to the shelter in time if she stayed to long at the library studying. Wow, she had more determination than I did. Homeless and still striving for an education.
One “gentleman” was a lawyer. This I found hard to believe, but Josh described a series of mishaps caused by undiagnosed bipolar disease that sent the man’s livelihood spiraling down hill until it reached rock bottom.
Another man lost his job and apartment because he did not have sufficient financial reserves having imprudently chosen to attempt to supplement his income with gambling. This hit a nerve with me, as I tended to hit the slot machines and casinos in my spare time, which is why my rent was late. I existed from paycheck to paycheck, I was but one paycheck away from living here myself. Josh fixed his eyes on me with this story, as though he was reading my psyche.“What are you staring at me for?” I asked defensively, it was as though he knew my thoughts; that I feared the same fate could be in store for me. He gently lowered his gaze to my sweatshirt, which advertised a gaming casino in the area. I blushed; I had not realized what top I had seized in my haste. This particular casino survived on most of my income!
“If you were a gambler, and I’m not saying you are, the money would be better spent on pursuing a career“
“What makes you think I don‘t have a career?”
Again, he looked down at my purse where a brochure for higher learning I had sent off for was showing itself, it must have been in today’s mail.
The last straggler approached the car and I had to inform him we were out of coats.
“No, there’s one more,” Josh informed me reaching into the trunk’s dark interior and producing the last coat.
I investigated one more time and confirming it was empty, I closed the trunk shut. How did the supply last until every single needy soul received one?! I latter learned that no one left empty handed from any of the make shift distribution booths. Every one was amazed at the unending source of supplies. What was the cause of our luck!
Now, at last I could get a hot dog and some hot cocoa to warm my interior. On the way to the hot dog stand I noticed Josh had some difficulty walking, apparently his feet had been injured in the past leaving him with a permanent limp.
Nearing the food station I discovered the lawyer hugging and crying with Carol, our church secretary. It seems Carol had been looking for this man for years. She had just handed him a hot dog and gone completely speechless, those nearby feared she was having a stroke. He was barely recognizable but it was definitely her lost forty-something baby brother. A lost sheep had been brought home!
“Looks like my family will be short tonight.” Josh sighed, happily, shivering. He had not gotten a coat and had personally given the last one away! How had I not noticed that?! Was it because I was in such a hurry to finish up and get out of here?I do not know why I did it, don’t ask me to explain, but I offered Josh my coat. I would be able to purchase a new one on payday if I avoided gambling. As I helped Josh into the coat I noticed more blood stains on his shirt back.
I also did something else beyond my comprehension. I sought out the young college girl and offered her a couch to sleep on until she graduated in May. She accepted ecstatically.It‘s not like she had never slept with strangers. She wouldn't take up much space since everything she owned fit into a backpack. As it would turn out, she would eventually get a degree in social work and I would work for her with hours tailored around my school schedule!
The newly found lawyer/brother would get pharmaceutical help for his problems and lobby for the hapless friends he left behind.
The man who had lost it all through his own folly got a job with our lawn maintenance crew and went on to own his own business, employing only those down and out but willing to improve. He wouldn't do any landscaping for casinos, (no need to tempt his luck.)
Having learned that bad things do not just happen to bad people, (and that but for the grace of God, there goes me!), a different girl boarded the van than had gotten off it hours earlier. (Had I learned so much in such a short time? What have I been doing with my life?) I found my coat draped over my seat. Looking out the window, I saw Joshua, washed of blood and limpless, with his eleven loyal followers trekking down the highway. I bowed my head and thanked God for allowing me the privilege of meeting the most famous dispossessed man of all.
Eccl. 9:11-12
Mark 4:39-41
Mark 15:17
Luke 9:58
Luke 24:39
John 20:24-28
Rom 12:9-13
Rom 12:20-21
Rom 12:17
Heb 13:1-3
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Lost at Sea
This vacation has been perfect. I haven’t had to do guard duty for days. I’ve just been spending my time sunning on the deck, basking in the warmth while balmy breezes circulated about. No work was required of me on this trip. This is the life. Miles out on the ocean where you can’t see or smell land if you stood on tippy-toe. Not a living soul in sight, that is until one was hauled aboard at the end of a line. I got up and stretched . I could see the others on the lower deck fishing, eating and listening to IPOD’s. Who ever thought of this little cruise was a genius. (By definition that should mean me, but I can’t take credit for this one.)
As I lengthened my body to the full capacity of my muscles, a craft went whizzing by sending large waves in our direction, rocking our smaller vessel. I rose to my feet to greet the passengers of the other ship with exited whooping and waving; this proofed to be a mistake. Loosing my balance I splashed into the deep. Oh, this isn’t good, I thought as I watched both boats put distance between themselves and me, going in opposing directions of north and south, or was it east and west…oh what difference does it make! The point is no one noticed my predicament.
Sure, I yelled and frantically tried to wave my arms to get their attention but who could hear over their IPOD’s the motors, the wind or the waves. The only witness to my quandary was the furry white mass of meowing annoyance the family I was with called a pet. I shrieked at her to go for help. She just looked at me and licked her ….. That is so not right! I had a deep inner feeling she was enjoying this. She curled up in a ball and rested her head on her paws, apparently in no hurry to be involved in my rescue, no hurry at all. I never did like her.
Thank heavens I was forced to wear this disgustingly orange vest. I had tried on several occasions to shed it but was constantly reprimanded every time I had attempted to cast it off. You‘d think these people owned me! Now I was grateful the ridiculous thing was keeping me above water, bouncing me about like a piece of flotsam. I rotated myself in all directions looking for some hint of land. Nothing met my senses of smell, hearing, or sight. Just salt water, dirty, fishy salt water washed across my mouth. Land had to be nearby somewhere, just over the horizon but on horizon?
Suddenly I spotted something. Was it a mountain peak? No it wasn’t that far away, it was something much closer. Was it a buoy? No, it was moving towards me. Fast. Real fast. It was a fin. Two fins. Three fins. I watched in horror. The words had difficulty escaping my throat.
“Sharks!” I yelled, but to who? I sure didn’t want to hear what I was saying.
I started doggy paddling away , as if I could really out swim sharks. Hope springs eternal. A long carcass swam under me then rose to the surface with me on its spine. Two other long figures broke nose first out of the water straight into the air and back down, flapping their hind flippers on the surface, spraying liquid all about. Dolphins! Taxi dolphins at that. They were giving me the ride of my dear life and believe me, I hung on tightly for dear life.
We came upon a boat with sightseers snapping pictures of a bigger school of dolphins who were putting on an act for their audience. Dolphins are such hams! One of the photographers spotted me in the orange vest I had vowed to not be caught dead in ( how often to we have to eat our words?) and started gesticulating to the crowd. Hands went over the side and pulled me up. Someone threw a nice warm towel around me and patted me down. Oh, that felt good. Especially the rub down on my tummy. (No, I’m not a pervert, it really did feel good.) I was offered something to drink. No thanks, I’ve had enough water today, thank you. Lots of faces pressed close to mine to give me an inspection, squinting into my eyes. A few patted my head , shaking theirs in amazement and scanning the vicinity for any signs of a shipwreck.
It wasn’t long before I realized that my rescuers and I didn’t share the same language. They couldn’t understand any of my attempts to explain my situation or my desire to get back home. They just stared at me and smiled. You know, the smile that means, “I know you’re trying to say something, but I honestly don’t know what it is.”
\When we got back to terra firma I didn’t recognize anything. This wasn’t the same area my party had set sail from. I ran around to all the cars, hoping against hope. Lost; four letters put together never sounded so lonely and foreboding.
After some discussion, that I didn’t comprehend mind you, I was put in a car with a couple and their three kids. This I grasped, I was being abducted. I spent days endeavoring to find a way to get back to my own people. I was kept like a prisoner, locked up and under continuous surveillance. But they treated me like an honored guest even if they restricted my movements. They fed me real good and made provisions for exercise and play.
One day, fortuitously, one of the boys noticed my necklace. It was hidden pretty good by my hair. Holding it between his fingers he read the inscription and yelled for his dad, who also read it.
“By golly, why didn’t we notice this before!” He rushed to the phone and started dialing. When I heard a familiar voice answer on the other end , I raced over and started making as much noise as I could muster. I was shaking with anticipation. This was incredible, I was hearing things; I just had to be. I didn’t see anyone identifiable but I knew that voice. Someone was saying,” Hello, whose there?”
The father spoke into the receiver, “ M’am, you’re not going to believe this, but I think we found your dog in the ocean last week!”
Just wait till I see that cat again! I thought, licking my lips.
Psalm 18:16
Psalm 29:3
Psalm 32:6
Psalm 69:1-2,14
Math 10:29
As I lengthened my body to the full capacity of my muscles, a craft went whizzing by sending large waves in our direction, rocking our smaller vessel. I rose to my feet to greet the passengers of the other ship with exited whooping and waving; this proofed to be a mistake. Loosing my balance I splashed into the deep. Oh, this isn’t good, I thought as I watched both boats put distance between themselves and me, going in opposing directions of north and south, or was it east and west…oh what difference does it make! The point is no one noticed my predicament.
Sure, I yelled and frantically tried to wave my arms to get their attention but who could hear over their IPOD’s the motors, the wind or the waves. The only witness to my quandary was the furry white mass of meowing annoyance the family I was with called a pet. I shrieked at her to go for help. She just looked at me and licked her ….. That is so not right! I had a deep inner feeling she was enjoying this. She curled up in a ball and rested her head on her paws, apparently in no hurry to be involved in my rescue, no hurry at all. I never did like her.
Thank heavens I was forced to wear this disgustingly orange vest. I had tried on several occasions to shed it but was constantly reprimanded every time I had attempted to cast it off. You‘d think these people owned me! Now I was grateful the ridiculous thing was keeping me above water, bouncing me about like a piece of flotsam. I rotated myself in all directions looking for some hint of land. Nothing met my senses of smell, hearing, or sight. Just salt water, dirty, fishy salt water washed across my mouth. Land had to be nearby somewhere, just over the horizon but on horizon?
Suddenly I spotted something. Was it a mountain peak? No it wasn’t that far away, it was something much closer. Was it a buoy? No, it was moving towards me. Fast. Real fast. It was a fin. Two fins. Three fins. I watched in horror. The words had difficulty escaping my throat.
“Sharks!” I yelled, but to who? I sure didn’t want to hear what I was saying.
I started doggy paddling away , as if I could really out swim sharks. Hope springs eternal. A long carcass swam under me then rose to the surface with me on its spine. Two other long figures broke nose first out of the water straight into the air and back down, flapping their hind flippers on the surface, spraying liquid all about. Dolphins! Taxi dolphins at that. They were giving me the ride of my dear life and believe me, I hung on tightly for dear life.
We came upon a boat with sightseers snapping pictures of a bigger school of dolphins who were putting on an act for their audience. Dolphins are such hams! One of the photographers spotted me in the orange vest I had vowed to not be caught dead in ( how often to we have to eat our words?) and started gesticulating to the crowd. Hands went over the side and pulled me up. Someone threw a nice warm towel around me and patted me down. Oh, that felt good. Especially the rub down on my tummy. (No, I’m not a pervert, it really did feel good.) I was offered something to drink. No thanks, I’ve had enough water today, thank you. Lots of faces pressed close to mine to give me an inspection, squinting into my eyes. A few patted my head , shaking theirs in amazement and scanning the vicinity for any signs of a shipwreck.
It wasn’t long before I realized that my rescuers and I didn’t share the same language. They couldn’t understand any of my attempts to explain my situation or my desire to get back home. They just stared at me and smiled. You know, the smile that means, “I know you’re trying to say something, but I honestly don’t know what it is.”
\When we got back to terra firma I didn’t recognize anything. This wasn’t the same area my party had set sail from. I ran around to all the cars, hoping against hope. Lost; four letters put together never sounded so lonely and foreboding.
After some discussion, that I didn’t comprehend mind you, I was put in a car with a couple and their three kids. This I grasped, I was being abducted. I spent days endeavoring to find a way to get back to my own people. I was kept like a prisoner, locked up and under continuous surveillance. But they treated me like an honored guest even if they restricted my movements. They fed me real good and made provisions for exercise and play.
One day, fortuitously, one of the boys noticed my necklace. It was hidden pretty good by my hair. Holding it between his fingers he read the inscription and yelled for his dad, who also read it.
“By golly, why didn’t we notice this before!” He rushed to the phone and started dialing. When I heard a familiar voice answer on the other end , I raced over and started making as much noise as I could muster. I was shaking with anticipation. This was incredible, I was hearing things; I just had to be. I didn’t see anyone identifiable but I knew that voice. Someone was saying,” Hello, whose there?”
The father spoke into the receiver, “ M’am, you’re not going to believe this, but I think we found your dog in the ocean last week!”
Just wait till I see that cat again! I thought, licking my lips.
Psalm 18:16
Psalm 29:3
Psalm 32:6
Psalm 69:1-2,14
Math 10:29
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