Castaways

There we were, side by side, rowing off to another world.


You asked me once, how much do I really love you? The answer was easy, if I could only explain. I think about all the love songs I knew in my younger days. The dances in the dark, on the warm Friday nights, and the hugs I felt as we danced real slow, long into the night. The crowd thinned; you held me tight while sparks flew like the Fourth of July. But your mom came and picked you up and I didn’t even get a kiss good bye…….

The next day, I met you on the beach. We went out on my yacht. You sat next to me on the center seat grabbing an oar and I, the other. We were side by side, rowing off to another world. I got my kiss I missed the night before. We smiled as you laid your head on my shoulder. In the middle of the great big ocean, we’d find an island, and would live there forever.

deserted island
When night fell, we named the stars and snuggled under a blanket until it was time to go. Your dad, you know, was waiting by the door until you came home. Oh, the memories we would share as we grew old… the dreams of young love and promises to hold onto forever. We said “good night” and you took a phone to bed to see if I would call. The memories abound!

Now, those dreams have grown and reality is claiming the years. We sit and watch the sunsets from the porch and reminisce about childhood. Our children now live in their own busy world; there is no time to stop and share in the sunsets. We smile and laugh, remembering, while we hold hands and sip our wine; rocking under those stars above – pretending, all the while, we were out on the ocean; castaways, searching for our island where we fell in love. Hmmm…. when we are young!

Yard Sale

…..the value on the memories was priceless…..


The day after, my best friend came over to see if they could help. Bewildered and helpless, not knowing where to start, we sat on the edge of the bed holding each other. Sobbing, we remembered all the good times.

This was going to be very hard; everything around me reminded me of him.  My world seemed like it was collapsing; I had no idea what I was going to do with all the things that meant so much to us. All those memories – the keepsakes of places we shared, birthday gifts and cards, didn’t mean much anymore.

Friday, in the pouring rain, I knelt in the mud and kissed your casket, whispering, “goodbye for good”.  In pain, I left you for the last time. Trembling and wondering, like the rest, of what was normal, has now changed. The limousine ride gave little relief – soaking wet!  I needed to change and get out of these wet things.

Early Saturday morning, after sorting and boxing, I walked to the edge of the drive. I stuck a sign in the ground, “Yard Sale”. Yes. All our many years of th97SJR9YA (2)matrimony, and a week later had turned into a yard sale. Sadly, the value on the memories was priceless, even though the little tags said fifty cents and all items in the box were a quarter.

The next day I went to church. I thought I sinned – selling your stuff; but as I was comforted by the congregation singing. There was, somehow, a peace in His presence.

I returned to your grave, reverently praying. I thought about how much I’m going to miss you. For what it’s worth, I grossed $357.60 – not very much for all the love we shared together.

Now, on our anniversary, I am going out to dinner to commemorate your life. There will never be another you! With sadness, I look back at all our many years of love, now only resolved to not much more than a “Yard Sale”.

So You Think You Know..

….I pray I never lose sight that it’s better to live by, than to hide, in the book of Christ….


Looking out over the amber grains, I wonder, what makes you think you know….  I listen to scholars who spend their life learning.  I sit in the congregation and scratch my head, as men of cloth, read and try to interpret the Word. I watch the deacons share the sacraments on Friday night; not exactly, your church wine.  I’ve been welcomed into homes that I will not for a minute, live in; all the figures of Jesus permeates on their musty, hall walls.  I wonder how Christ would feel to know that those who adore His name, leave little admiration.

Though I walk through the fields of grain and listen to the winds whistle out your name, I can’t help but wonder, what do you think you know?  Oh, I read a book or two and even went so far as to memorize a verse or so; but, the messages you need to learn aren’t between those leather covers.  It’s, rather, the way you address your fellow friends today, as they stand and watch your every move.  Falling short, I never lose sight of who’s in charge – our Father in heaven – He who makes miracles happen; the one we need to know!

Our God, an awesome power, can do no wrong. He directs our every thought and action as we wake in the early morning. Our stamina, strength, perseverance and promise, makes us whole through God.

Watching from a picnic bench, I find more comfort from an old, black man in a three piece suit that’s worked all his life, than a college graduate who has little wisdom.  I think about the philosophers and astronomers that try to predict the weather; an unpredictable force but mankind falsely believes it.  Moses, though, got it right! He, a murderer that God used to the good, understood the facts of life.

Today, I rant like a mother guarding her nest – “who are you to tell me how to live?  You think you know?”  I watch so many with the good Book in their hands.  They are the first to ruin faith with their fellow man.  In contrast, I strive to be first in restoring the basic principles that God asks us to observe in His name.  Shallow as a puddle by a curb, we can’t help but see the weak who think they are strong.

The winds rest now and even the grain remains reverent to the Father.  As I leave a path walking through the grain, I pray I never lose sight that it’s better to live by, than to hide in, the book of Christ; others do not seem to comprehend.  I sit and review my journey and I hope, someone, will see where I once walked.  May they find my footsteps as I remain vigilant to the their ways; where some merely feel that figures on a wall or a Book on the dash, will direct their future.

Only in faith, will Christ live on….th[7]

Restitution

He knows our debts owed, as life’s score is 10 – 0


Returning back to my childhood home was like having a reunion with my third grade teacher – too broad to fit, and too old to try to prove I could sit. I’d rather stand anyway. Coming from a prestigious place, where the river rounds and heads north of Annapolis, I’m reminded of the lustful color, following the shoreline up the river.  Memories elude to times when wishes were merely unanswered dreams. Looking back at the losses, I tried to follow my heart and only found being broke was my resolution.

So, I moved away and started again; never looking back. Life had soured within my soul. It was fruitless, as routines were commonplace and that’s the end – well not exactly. Tonight, I find myself wandering off to a place where I ask God for my restitution. He knows our debts we owe, as life’s score is 10 – 0. We ask our Lord, “Will we ever win??” I know my story is ordinary and one that many can relate to. I ask God to guide me, for I am giving up as, once again, I am the ride.

Being eternally grateful, God has proven His ever presence to me. It is a testimonial you wouldn’t believe, but, I keep my faith. God has blessed me – restitution paid! As far as ten times over, the score, now, is life and me – tied. That story is complicated, another book perhaps; as God sends me on a mission to retrieve the soul mate I never had. He knows, though, and now my life has made a one eighty. It’s not for fortune or fame, but, for the love God intends us all to have.

The key, unfortunately, is being still – reverently patient. Sometimes, the hell we go through is right here on Earth. For example, I look back at 32 years ago and I ask God, why? Looking for the purpose is one word – timing – all in God’s timing. I’m sure there’s no other answer! Faith plays a part as fate took a role thirty two years ago. It knew more than us! Today, I look back at my personal hell and realize – it’s the dues we all must pay for the reality of our own restitution…..

 

Choices and Changes

….we all stand in the valley between the mountains of good and evil


Choices photo

Before the hot summer nights, or the bone chilling cold, and wrapped in warmth while embracing each other, we are created – not by love, but, by the Holy Spirit. We wonder out to destinations unknown; our trials uncounted; our faith to be tested. We’re off into the world of deception and converse. We watch our step, careful of hurts, as we plan our trip. Our desires are mapped, ever mindful of obstacles that could cause us to stumble. We all stand in the valley between the mountains of good and evil.

God watches and protects, though our choices may not be the best. Yet, He lets us wonder…patiently waiting as we walk through a path He has planted; knowing occasionally, we all get lost. As we walk along, you might encounter a little shower; but never fear, as even clouds of thunder have a silver lining.

So, here we are standing before our believer. Which believers do you follow….for the paranormal bears its faith that leads us on our course of completion. Our heavenly Father never needs advertising; but, counterparts go on the market – merchandising.

Yes, we all have choices, but, it’s the hard ones that God waits for us to make in life. After all, look at the choices He made for us. In His image, we are called to make similar. The link is ‘love’. In a night full of dark and loneliness – Satan never loves a soul – when footprints come from our heavenly Father above!

If I Could Be Hemingway For A Day

To never grow old, your name in lights, and fame finding you at every threshold – I can’t imagine!


I wake to a cloudless still, as though the sun commands the earth to remain and never move. The hibiscus flowers appear as though they are painted in time – the colors so serene. The palms poise reverently along the walk that line the curbs of Whitehead town. The sun blisters old, wooden pickets that divide the parcels. Brittle, brick walls guard some, like a fortress, for those most eloquent of homes. Manicured lawns border the gardens as flowers bloom, blessing the yards.

I walk to the corner of Duval. Looking up through the fronds, the crystal blue back drop shows so radiantly. The seas are calm so I call my old buddy, Joe. “Let’s go fishing!”, and, “I’ll meet you at the Pillar” but he is still asleep. Late night, I guess, you might say. I listen to the useless chatter coming from the open windows. God, what a beautiful day, I think to myself while walking by the little conch houses. The scripts are bubbling right out of my head! I could sit and type on my brand new Singer but it can wait for a rainy afternoon. There’s fish out there I need to catch!

Hemingway houseThe calm seas invite the gulls and I. So, I follow my subconscious in pursuit of the one that got away from me last week. Like thunder, other yachts rumble while heading out to sea. I watch their wakes as it lusters in the sunlight – ripples against the morning haze – slowly burning away. I sit for hours watching the lines, thinking of the old times and ventures we’d taken.

By three or so, the gulls retreat back to shore. The fish just aren’t biting – the moon or tide has something to do with it. I walk along the cobblestones and think how awesome life must have been for Hemingway. A bustling, little island out in the middle of a great big ocean . What a life!

To never grow old, your name in lights, and fame finding you at every threshold – I can’t imagine! Standing in a doorway, I watch those who, unknowingly, are caught by an afternoon shower. I smile, flicking what’s left of my cigar, into the curb of running water . The sun and humidity has returned. I guess, maybe, it is time for a totty.

Yes! I’d give anything to be Hemingway for a day! I’d write my memoirs of where I’ve been while enjoying a glass of champagne. One of his five-toed cats would be sprawled across my lap as the evening light receded. My second home, will always find my heart, not far from the corner of Duval and Simonson.