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Rainy Day

Rainy Day I stretch, toss Panda gently onto the wet grass, duck back under the eaves hoping my pup will do her business, meaning business, and come right back to me, so we can retreat to dry inside. Panda Girl doesn’t get it. Rather, she prances like the princess she is all the way across the yard, high-born head and flag tail regal both held high. She turns as if to summon me, What are you waiting for? “Panda, come,” I command. She tilts her head. No. You come, her stance manifests. She stays, tail wagging, sky leaking moisture all over her seven-pound self. Yesterday’s grass clippings cling to her black and white fur with leaves and other bits of yard debris. I sigh, start out with shoulders scrunched, head bowed to let my back take the brunt of today’s assault on earth. Panda sees and circles joyful, plants feet, barks, See! I told you! The water’s fine. I lift head, straighten shoulders, relax, and walk in the wonder: my rain-dancing dog’s right. * * * Photo by A A on Unsplash
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Thoughts Coaxed through the Backdoor of My Mind

Is something wrong with me that I struggle to write about Christian holidays for Christian holidays? It seems expected; prompts and requests abound. But somehow, I can’t bring myself to respond on paper or screen. Every attempt comes out artificial, strained, or stale. Morsels with wondrous potential seem only half-baked, far from ready for reader savoring. I ponder faith deeply during these times, seek fresh insights, talk them over with God. That when Jesus died on the cross, in that moment, He took all the sins of the whole world committed through all time right into His God-man Self, became a vacuum ingesting all heinous evil ever, then somehow said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:24, NIV). In that moment, His moment of greatest weakness, He revealed God’s power supreme to the world. Or that Jesus’ death wasn’t to appease the out-of-control anger of a wrathful god, but to pay death’s demanded ransom. Our one, true God loves us all so m...

From Where I'm Sitting

Flames lick fake wood never burning— for now. Soon the sun will rise before I do, but not today.   Today’s glorious sunrise show is hidden, however, by mists that roll over mountains, meld into Sound, hover over harbor contained in faint trace of land.   Come out, Sunshine. Ingest dense moisture cover. Come out, Mountains. Reveal your dimensions, their grand cascade.   I know you are there where I should see you from where I’m sitting. * * * Photo by Nick Bolton on Unsplash

Grief

Grief is the house left vacant once parents have moved out, moved on to their eternal home without you— for now Grief is the crib left vacant when life anticipated departs before taking breath, or soon after, taking yours with it Grief is the room left vacant when a child declares independence too young, rejecting all faith and family offered for launch Grief is the vacancy a for-sale sign can’t fill * * * I wrote this post for the Five-Minute Friday Link-Up. Click  here  to read other writers' posts on today's prompt:  vacant . Photo by Tierra Mallorca on Unsplash

Time Redeemed

Historic downtown. A place of magic when one’s seeking unique. I went today to claim my father’s birthday gift, the one I noted six months ago while window shopping with my brother. A handcrafted ornament of Garry oak honoring Navy Seabees of which my dad was one. I parked blocks away to enjoy the walk, surprisingly lonely for 9:30 a.m. The district was ghost-town empty except for one Hawaiian-shirt clad man standing talking through a car’s open window to the married couple inside. He was asking for prayer for his wife beginning some new venture. They assured him they’d be praying. I prayed, too, having overheard the request. Serendipitous (and unintentional) eavesdropping. Perhaps I was meant to hear, add a covert fourth to their two or three gathered in His name. Reaching the entrance to the small indoor mall, a sign declared my intended destination open today. I entered the building, turned left. The sign on the shop’s door said, “Open! Come on in.” Door locked, lights out, no v...

In Honor of Infinite Pi Day

Because Today is Not January 1 (and This List is Not Limited to 2025) 1.       Play more often. 2.       Refuse to complain. 3.       Give God thanks. 4.       Thank some people. 5.       Seek answers. 6.       Make sure they’re true 7.       Pray always. 8.       Show your spouse and children what they mean to you. 9.       Make sure they believe it. 10.   Smile more. 11.   Help somebody. 12.   Learn to communicate well. 13.   Be confident. 14.   Let yourself be less than perfect. 15.   Analyze less. 16.   Clean something. 17.   Learn something new. 18.   Relax. 19.   Complete a project. 20.   Write a book. 21.   –or a poem. 22.   –and a poem. 23.   Gi...

Reflections on Ash Wednesday

“For dust you are and to dust you will return."  — Genesis 3:19 b "The time has come,"  [Jesus]  said. "The kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news!"  — Mark 1:15 Ash Wednesday is a day for reflection, repentance, and mourning sin. In Mass services held on this day, priests quote either Genesis 3:19 or Mark 1:15 as they make a mark of ash in the shape of a cross on each congregant's forehead. Both verses are perfect for the thoughts associated with this day. Ash Wednesday's ashes symbolize two things. First, they remind us of the penalty for sin — ”to dust you will return”  (Genesis 3:19 b ). They also symbolize the Bible times' tradition of sitting in the ashes and putting them on one's head when mourning or repenting. The following passages give examples: 2 Samuel 13:19 , Esther 4:1 , Job 2:8 , Daniel 9:3 , and Matthew 11:21 . But Mark 1:15 shows us we don't have to sit in the ashes, mourning sin forever. Jesus invites...