How many times in ones life will you hit the bottom of the barrel? Once, twice, no unfortuneately I think many times. We suffer for what and why? For nothing, no I pray obviously something. Something greater than you or I; something cosmic and divine.
I trudge through mud so deep I may drown and yet a voice says keep going, soon you will find higher ground. Will it come as promised or am I forgotten, left alone to despair? I try my hardest as much as I can but it seems like not enough I am still stuck in the ground. No place to go, no sense of direction; do I keep walking and hope I choose the right way or sit and wait for guidance and risk sinking deeper into this mud of mine?
Who do I turn to, who do I trust? When all I feel is alone and lost, unheard in my prayers, and unnoticed in my efforts. I murmur much it may seem, my faith is weak and I constantly call for saving. If I was stronger perhaps I could pull myself from the trap but my energy is spent and my reserves are no more. All I have left is to reach up my hand and pray that someone will take it.
With hope shattered it's hard to reclaim, my body wishes to stop. But my soul will not give in, she is eternal and will fight to the end, a spark of faith is all she needs and a foot will move forward across this vast plain. There is no sense of direction, no beacon to follow but bending an ear to hear His small voice. Friends and loved ones surround, I am not yet as Job. Blessings have come to those who wait patiently on the Lord. Hope must be regained so that my wings may fly.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Moroni 7: 27-30
27 Wherefore, my beloved brethren, have miracles ceased because Christ hath ascended into heaven, and hath sat down on the right hand of God, to claim of the Father his rights of mercy which he hath upon the children of men?
28 For he hath answered the ends of the law, and he claimeth all those who have faith in him; and they who have faith in him will cleave unto every good thing; wherefore he advocateth the cause of the children of men; and he dwelleth eternally in the heavens.
29 And because he hath done this, my beloved brethren, have miracles ceased? Behold I say unto you, Nay; neither have angels ceased to minister unto the children of men.
30 For behold, they are subject unto him, to minister according to the word of his command, showing themselves unto them of strong faith and a firm mind in every form of godliness.
28 For he hath answered the ends of the law, and he claimeth all those who have faith in him; and they who have faith in him will cleave unto every good thing; wherefore he advocateth the cause of the children of men; and he dwelleth eternally in the heavens.
29 And because he hath done this, my beloved brethren, have miracles ceased? Behold I say unto you, Nay; neither have angels ceased to minister unto the children of men.
30 For behold, they are subject unto him, to minister according to the word of his command, showing themselves unto them of strong faith and a firm mind in every form of godliness.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Patch
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" For Your Greatest Happiness." "Excuse me? But can I ask what you are doing?" A warm buttery voice spoke from beside a raft. "No! I am perfectly miserable, leave me alone, you, whatever!" A muffled voice whined.
"Beaver." He whistled through large front teeth. "What is your name, little chick?"
"Patch, because of all the cracks on my shell. Now be quiet or the fox will hear you!" He squawked.
The beaver climbed on top of his dam to get a better look at the shore line. There was something there but he could only see shadows through his aging eyes.
"I heard him outside the coop, growling and clawing at the dirt. The hens and chicks left to welcome Grandfather Rooster. I was all alone, exposed to the dangers of the world!"
Patch rolled onto his back and let his exposed legs flop needlessly back and forth. The beaver jumped onto the raft and sat beside him. He placed one webbed paw on the top of Patch’s shell
and stroked his left leg lovingly. He grazed the shore line with his eyes once again. Trying to
discover the shadow that paced back and forth among the tall pine trees. He sniffed the morning air searching for the foul scent of fox and smelled only the blossoming blue bells decorating the sandy beach. He cocked his head to one side in order to listen for the deep growls that would most certainly come from a hungry fox. But all he could hear were the chirping and chattering of his neighborhood friends.
"Are you sure it’s a fox?"
The beaver questioned while holding a soggy paw above his eyes to help block the bright rays of the sun.
"Yes, the hens cluck all day about them. That is why I decided to stay nestled in the safety of my little shell, forever. But then just this morning, after they all left, I knew I had to pop out my wobbly legs and run or I would be eaten by the fox that sat grunting outside. I ran until my toes touched this water. I can not swim so my feet searched out this raft and now I am bothered by a beaver."
Patch sighed deeply and shivered.
"Well, you’ve already got your feet out. Might as well pop the rest of you out too."
The beaver said while tapping lightly on the side of Patch’s pitiful shell.
"You’ll never know for sure if it is a fox if you don’t take a look at him."
Patch crinkled his eyes and shifted inside his shell.
"It was hard to break my legs through. I don’t think I am strong enough to get my head out."
The beaver gave Patch a little nudge and replied, "You’ll never know if you are strong enough until you try."
Patch twitched his feet back and forth nervously and clicked his tongue inside his beak.
"It is getting very cramped in here. I guess I can poke my head out long enough to stretch and look."
With that thought, Patch took a deep breath and balled up his shoulders. He pushed the top of his head against the cracks of the shell. It was so warn that it didn’t take much force for the little chick to pop his whole body out. He blinked several times against the new blinding light.
"What is that?"
Patch hunched over and covered his head with his wing.
"The sun, silly, look at it, feel how warm it is!"
The beaver began dancing around the little bird causing the raft to sway and Patch to loose his balance. He toppled over and found himself staring up into a big blue sky. At least he thought it was the sky, he had heard the hens talk about it before. Fluffy clouds hung low over the tops of the trees and he could hear the water of the lake lapping against the raft clearly now. As he sat up he saw a small creature jump out of the water and land with a plop. Ripples moved out from the spot and Patch followed them with his eyes till they reached the rocky shore. The shore, the fox, death! Poor Patch began to quiver.
"Time to go look at your fox lad!"
The beaver chimed as he slid into the water. He easily dislodged the raft from his dam and began pushing it to shore.
"That’s close enough!" Patch screamed.
He could see the fox now, big, red, and hungry. Pacing back and forth along the rocks of the beach.
"Are you sure?" The beaver popped his head out of the water. "I don’t think we are close enough to see him well. Let’s move in a bit more."
Patch closed his eyes and shuddered as the beaver quickly swam them both to shore. Patch heard the sound of water splashing and slogging as the beaver jumped onto the raft.
"Open you eyes little Patch and face your fox."
Patch slowly peeled each eye open one at a time and discovered they were right next to the shore. Standing at the waters edge was a large red rooster. The rooster cleared his throat with a low rumble that sounded much like the growl of Patch’s hungry fox.
"Hello Patch, I am Grandfather Rooster. Everyone is waiting for you to come join in the days activities."
Patch sheepishly looked back and forth between the beaver and the old rooster.
"I thought you were a fox come to eat me."
The old rooster gave a heart felt cluck and held out a wing, encouraging Patch to join him.
"Clearly I am not. But I am hungry so let us be off to enjoy the spoils of the day!"
The beaver gave Patch a loving pat on the back and helped him leap to shore. Patch cupped his little feathers around the old bird’s out stretched wing and gave a hopeful thank you to his new friend beaver.
"Beaver." He whistled through large front teeth. "What is your name, little chick?"
"Patch, because of all the cracks on my shell. Now be quiet or the fox will hear you!" He squawked.
The beaver climbed on top of his dam to get a better look at the shore line. There was something there but he could only see shadows through his aging eyes.
"I heard him outside the coop, growling and clawing at the dirt. The hens and chicks left to welcome Grandfather Rooster. I was all alone, exposed to the dangers of the world!"
Patch rolled onto his back and let his exposed legs flop needlessly back and forth. The beaver jumped onto the raft and sat beside him. He placed one webbed paw on the top of Patch’s shell
and stroked his left leg lovingly. He grazed the shore line with his eyes once again. Trying to
discover the shadow that paced back and forth among the tall pine trees. He sniffed the morning air searching for the foul scent of fox and smelled only the blossoming blue bells decorating the sandy beach. He cocked his head to one side in order to listen for the deep growls that would most certainly come from a hungry fox. But all he could hear were the chirping and chattering of his neighborhood friends.
"Are you sure it’s a fox?"
The beaver questioned while holding a soggy paw above his eyes to help block the bright rays of the sun.
"Yes, the hens cluck all day about them. That is why I decided to stay nestled in the safety of my little shell, forever. But then just this morning, after they all left, I knew I had to pop out my wobbly legs and run or I would be eaten by the fox that sat grunting outside. I ran until my toes touched this water. I can not swim so my feet searched out this raft and now I am bothered by a beaver."
Patch sighed deeply and shivered.
"Well, you’ve already got your feet out. Might as well pop the rest of you out too."
The beaver said while tapping lightly on the side of Patch’s pitiful shell.
"You’ll never know for sure if it is a fox if you don’t take a look at him."
Patch crinkled his eyes and shifted inside his shell.
"It was hard to break my legs through. I don’t think I am strong enough to get my head out."
The beaver gave Patch a little nudge and replied, "You’ll never know if you are strong enough until you try."
Patch twitched his feet back and forth nervously and clicked his tongue inside his beak.
"It is getting very cramped in here. I guess I can poke my head out long enough to stretch and look."
With that thought, Patch took a deep breath and balled up his shoulders. He pushed the top of his head against the cracks of the shell. It was so warn that it didn’t take much force for the little chick to pop his whole body out. He blinked several times against the new blinding light.
"What is that?"
Patch hunched over and covered his head with his wing.
"The sun, silly, look at it, feel how warm it is!"
The beaver began dancing around the little bird causing the raft to sway and Patch to loose his balance. He toppled over and found himself staring up into a big blue sky. At least he thought it was the sky, he had heard the hens talk about it before. Fluffy clouds hung low over the tops of the trees and he could hear the water of the lake lapping against the raft clearly now. As he sat up he saw a small creature jump out of the water and land with a plop. Ripples moved out from the spot and Patch followed them with his eyes till they reached the rocky shore. The shore, the fox, death! Poor Patch began to quiver.
"Time to go look at your fox lad!"
The beaver chimed as he slid into the water. He easily dislodged the raft from his dam and began pushing it to shore.
"That’s close enough!" Patch screamed.
He could see the fox now, big, red, and hungry. Pacing back and forth along the rocks of the beach.
"Are you sure?" The beaver popped his head out of the water. "I don’t think we are close enough to see him well. Let’s move in a bit more."
Patch closed his eyes and shuddered as the beaver quickly swam them both to shore. Patch heard the sound of water splashing and slogging as the beaver jumped onto the raft.
"Open you eyes little Patch and face your fox."
Patch slowly peeled each eye open one at a time and discovered they were right next to the shore. Standing at the waters edge was a large red rooster. The rooster cleared his throat with a low rumble that sounded much like the growl of Patch’s hungry fox.
"Hello Patch, I am Grandfather Rooster. Everyone is waiting for you to come join in the days activities."
Patch sheepishly looked back and forth between the beaver and the old rooster.
"I thought you were a fox come to eat me."
The old rooster gave a heart felt cluck and held out a wing, encouraging Patch to join him.
"Clearly I am not. But I am hungry so let us be off to enjoy the spoils of the day!"
The beaver gave Patch a loving pat on the back and helped him leap to shore. Patch cupped his little feathers around the old bird’s out stretched wing and gave a hopeful thank you to his new friend beaver.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Ode to Chuck Norris
One of my favorite links to go to when I need a good laugh. I am actually not a Chuck Norris fan but I know people who are and they LOVE him. I can appreciate the martial arts discipline that Chuck has made a part of his life and I think it is great that he can provide us all with so much entertainment. Be that seriously or for our sarcastic enjoyment.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Angels
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Have you ever thought about angels? As a child I use to dream of seeing an angel, especially at night when the darkness was scariest. I would pray in my little heart that an angel would come to comfort me, often times I would fall peacefully to sleep with thoughts of angelic hosts filling my mind. Other times in my life I have felt the prescence of someone near when times were hard. Whether it be my guardian angel, a family member that has passed on, a child perhaps that will someday be mine, or just the loving words of a friend so dear, angels have been a great part of my life. They do not need to be seen to be felt. And they do not need to be unseen to do their work. Angels are around us everyday, helping us to push our personal handcarts across the wildnerness we must traverse. Many angels have come in the form of a well needed hug, smile, or listening ear. While others have come into my heart and soul walking near to help bear me up when I no longer have any strength left. I believe in angels, and I hope that I can be an angel among men to help bear others burdens and lighten a friends load.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
The Worst Song in the World, Research Suggests
This American Life had a sketch on two Russian artists named Komar and Melamid. They hired a market-research firm to determine the American public's likes and dislikes in music. The following conclusions were drawn:
"The most unwanted music is over 25 minutes long, veers wildly between loud and quiet sections, between fast and slow tempos, and features timbres of extremely high and low pitch, with each dichotomy presented in abrupt transition. The most unwanted orchestra was determined to be large, and features the accordion and bagpipe (which tie at 13% as the most unwanted instrument), banjo, flute, tuba, harp, organ, synthesizer (the only instrument that appears in both the most wanted and most unwanted ensembles). An operatic soprano raps and sings atonal music, advertising jingles, political slogans, and "elevator" music, and a children's choir sings jingles and holiday songs. The most unwanted subjects for lyrics are cowboys and holidays, and the most unwanted listening circumstances are involuntary exposure to commercials and elevator music. Therefore, it can be shown that if there is no covariance--someone who dislikes bagpipes is as likely to hate elevator music as someone who despises the organ, for example--fewer than 200 individuals of the world's total population would enjoy this piece."
Here is a very brief taste of this song via YouTube. You can stream the entire thing from Wired magazine via this link.
"The most unwanted music is over 25 minutes long, veers wildly between loud and quiet sections, between fast and slow tempos, and features timbres of extremely high and low pitch, with each dichotomy presented in abrupt transition. The most unwanted orchestra was determined to be large, and features the accordion and bagpipe (which tie at 13% as the most unwanted instrument), banjo, flute, tuba, harp, organ, synthesizer (the only instrument that appears in both the most wanted and most unwanted ensembles). An operatic soprano raps and sings atonal music, advertising jingles, political slogans, and "elevator" music, and a children's choir sings jingles and holiday songs. The most unwanted subjects for lyrics are cowboys and holidays, and the most unwanted listening circumstances are involuntary exposure to commercials and elevator music. Therefore, it can be shown that if there is no covariance--someone who dislikes bagpipes is as likely to hate elevator music as someone who despises the organ, for example--fewer than 200 individuals of the world's total population would enjoy this piece."
Here is a very brief taste of this song via YouTube. You can stream the entire thing from Wired magazine via this link.
Honesty
Is it better to lie and keep it inside, when you know what you will say will cause hurt and dismay. Is silence the answer for peace or is it through words that may cut deep. We shut eachother out in order to still the surface while storms continue to rage underneath. The fear of conflict forces a hand of apathy when really what we need is honesty, humilty, and trust. True so many hearts are broken when sharp tongues are unleashed; as so do many hearts die when it is honest words we do not speak. Use prudence, yes, guidance and faith, but the Lord will not still the flood gates if we choose to remain unheard. The feelings will surface and they will flow. The force of their rupture is left in our hands. Silence is not the answer, though easy this path may be. Difficult to break through to the road of an honest heart but serenity will be yours if you choose the harder part.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Fighter
From my first breath I started this fight. Bright lights, masked faces, and unfamiliar noises. The fear is there, uncertainty surrounds. Yet, a smiling face, calming voice, and my little heart is reassured. Weeks of waiting and wondering will this surgery work? Angels ever present and comfort those who stand near. She's a fighter and will never give up that is why her life began here.I grow with bliss but school is hard. Not all understand and doubt my mind. She's dumb; she's stupid, we should leave her behind. I struggle, I cry, does no one see that I ... I am a fighter and will always try. I break free, blossom and grow. Expand my mind despite what they say. But always hearing that small nagging voice. With all that I've done why let it remain? I will continue to fight though doubt leave its tread. I want to go forth. I want to share but that is not where my path is to go. Heathenish fool, God would never say no. You must be wrong I say you must go! Am I selfish or so callus that I can't hear His voice? No, no, it's not me, my heart just may burst. You are right, they are wrong, although it causes hurt; you are a fighter and will conquer though this is just the first.But a moment passes and I am struggling through, this can't be the reason why I was to stay. It is love or possibly school. Not staring into the toilet, gazing at my food. Month one, two, three, four, I continue to fight, I want to know will I soon be gone? Or will I stay in this sad state never knowing what's wrong? A new year and this challenge continues to stay. I now know that I'm okay but the blackness remains. My body betrayed, I must learn to cope, it seems so unfair. Why must I be broken when others are whole? But help comes in very little ways; a familiar thought permeates my brain. You're a fighter and never give up, nor will you allow despair to win. Though the path before you is laced with fear, hope stands strong and courage will you bare.Love comes in strange forms, each one stretches your heart. Do I not share mine enough, no I'm afraid a little too much. Hurt and bewildered I hide it away, this is one fight I try to delay. Each time that it's challenged I feel I will loose. Self fulfilled prophecies I am sure I abuse. I learn and I grow still my heart feels the ache. Love is the greatest challenge I know I must take. I feel tossed and uncertain where I am to go. Like Peter at times I am sinking below. Then as God takes my hand His thoughts seed in my soul. The path is before you yet dark it may seem. You are a fighter, stand tall, and stand strong, let your convictions be a guide. Blessings do come when it is faith that abides.
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