God’s Little Girl

She would remind you of the sun’s rays glistening through the foliage….

In the quiet, early morn, I lock the door, not knowing where or who I’ll meet… but I’m off! Down the hill, I feel the world, as the weight lies squarely upon my shoulders. I turn the corner, and find myself, majestically, protected by the awesome power of beautiful trees. Like a painting, they gather to cover the walk for many. Long before the light of day, I too, walk and pray that God hears my prayers.

Subdued in the dark, an image appears – tall and slender, autumn blonde and silky. It approaches me.  A breeze stirs that refreshes the air.  I take a deep breath; my heart ignites, and a joy resonates from deep within.

“Good morning mam”, I said with a smile.

I address her in her rejuvenated youth. Even to see her acknowledge me delights my spirit. Drawing near, her hand twirls her hair like the leaves on branches in the morning breeze. Walking toward her, I can see her glow. What a magnificent thing of beauty God has put on this Earth! She reminds me of the sun’s rays glistening through the foliage. Though it appears we are miles away, there she is, standing right in front of me.

I ask for her name to address this goddess properly. She nods her head still twisting her silky, spun strands.  I change the subject and talk about the weather. I am thinking, well have it your way. Her perfect smile and a complexion that photographers dream of; I stand and listen as she speaks. Articulate in her annunciation, I wonder if she is from another planet because no one speaks like this here. I reiterate, “please tell me your name”. Intrigued beyond belief, who am I, but, an old man she should have no time for.

In an apparent tone, so as not to awake the neighbors, she says, “Dawn” – just like that! No last name.  What’s the big secret?, I think to myself. Giving up on her; it is too pretty of a day. Nodding and continuing on, I think, I’m too old to compete with her youthfulness.  I want to take another look to see if she is real. Is my mind playing a trick?  Sure enough, the sun is breaking through the morning clouds left by night. She is gone….

Still in a fog, I ask God, “what is the meaning of this encounter? Who is this angel?” 

The trees sway, now parting the glaring shade.  God speaks,  “I sent you Dawn.”

Now puzzled by the remark, I question, “why such a pretty  princess?” 

He chuckled and said, “Dawn – my little girl, full of life, never grows old. She’s the one I want the world to wake to – Dawn, humble and full of hope – Dawn the delight of morn.”

Amazed and blown away, I just met an angel sent by the Lord above –  I guess. Maybe it is the first thing we look forward to, like a morning cup, to help us wake.  ‘Dawn’, who has come to share what God brings us, another day of  ‘life’!

Pipe Dreams

“Thank you” God for this day to share my life with those close to me.


The evening comes with a chance of storms; God prepares nature’s calling. Refreshed by the calm, a hint of rain persists as the atmosphere fills with humidity. The sky is still radiant yellow as the sun sets behind the thunder.  A silver lining reminds me that despite what your facing, God is there to defend you.

I sit and reminisce about the day;  the highs and lows of sweating in the dirt; I wonder why I do it.  I guess I just love the work.  A glass of tea, and a little breeze, is all anyone needs to believe in the magnificent beauty of God. 

Reclining in the shadows drawn across the lawn, His Majesty brings me peace, a comfort, that only comes as you pray.  My eyes closed, arms relaxed across my chest, I remain poised as God intervenes.  My soul’s rejuvenated from yet another hectic day.

Thank you, God for this day to share my life with those close to me. I’m so honored. I hear the faint sounds of a rumble now. The scent is more predominant.  I love the initial sprinkles, as they are so random, and they bounce atop my metal roof . 

Now as the sprinkles become more severe, I’m moving inside as rain accompanies the Rain cloudsthunder. It’s time to retire as my mind is weary.  The day is gone and I’m thankful my prayers elude to what the morning brings. My potential prayers remain a dream and heaven holds the secrets.

Tomorrow, in the brisk twilight, I’ll share my coffee, a cup for one, with God; and I’ll share my thoughts with Him and I start over.  I pray for friends, and of course my safety. But most of all —–  I’ll pray for you! 

Waiting In The Wings

…..I resort to the only way I know to find my forever soulmate..


Tonight, in the quiet of a crowded room, I listen to the music while people run wild. God has laid his hand on thee, though I feel so all alone. Life is short, at best; there is no reverse, only forward. I watch the warm sun setting in the crisp, cool chill. God protects the weary – those who feel the chill from the inside out.  Alone in the night, I pray to the one who cares to make a difference; tears come like withered leaves.

I hear your plea as you cry out but only He can heal the injured prayers. The breeze carries my dreams astray, where those go who disbelieve me. A northern snow buries a soured soul that tries to crawl in the cracks where it’s warm. My conscious controls my broken spirit as I bury my head under the covers. Tomorrow will come. I try to sleep as the winds seep in and the pain is haunting.

Alone, I know you’re out there. I feel your despair; how do I to find you??  Heaven has no internet so I resort to the only way I know to find my forever soulmate — prayer. As many times before, I call on the Lord to help me and again, I must be patient. I know my prayers are heard, but God’s timing is a different story . Life is a struggle to survive with disappointments at every corner. Constantly aware, I listen to my heart .

Another night, another crowd, and like seeing my reflection in a mirror, I look outside. People are milling all about, but it is you, I am missing. I can’t explain my deepest feelings that are vowed, in an insignificant obligation, but I pay the price. But God sees and that’s all that matters! My personal trials become immaterial; I search for you through a higher power. Tears come as I pray you call. In the 11th hour, amazingly, our Father comes through. All the waiting, all the dreaming, all the thoughts and tiresome scheming are over.

All the many prayers, night after night; all the hopes and lonely dreams; and I found what I was looking for, finally!  The one I never forgot; the one who won my heart when I was younger. As time is never convenient, love prevails. Nothing matters like God calling you to me. I drop what I am doing to run to the occasion!  My love, waiting in the wings, from many years before….

Taking the Helm

We wander away, sailing in the moonlight, dreaming our life away…..


Taking the HelmIn the summer moon, a refreshing breeze filters into a romantic evening.  Untying the dock lines, I push us off, as we drift out with the tide. I raise the sails and take the helm; listening to the bow breaking the waves from an approaching boat. A gentle spray catches in the wind and we are reminded that it’s still not summer.

Almost like being born again, our youthfulness is blessed as salt permeates the air. Like Christopher Columbus setting out to explore, we never see where God leads us.  I, for one, don’t care as long as you are here beside me.

The moon’s glow glistens over the ocean while we sail off into its direction. Heaven knows where we are headed, as God leads us out of temptation. We share our dreams as land drifts further away. Marooned, millions of miles from Earth, we forget we are on the ocean. The stars are so close we can reach out and touch them; make a wish before they fall!  The oceans now rest as gentle swells remind me more of Oklahoma. Our sails are luffing as the breeze settles over the sovereign seas; they, too, are waiting on the moon to shine.

I lean over and give you a kiss on your cheek. “Look”! A shooting star magically appears out of nowhere. God is blowing us a kiss as the breeze begins to stir again. A quarter moon is all we see – majestically tinted in a shade of amber. Tacking about, we must head back as reality waits on distant shores. How nice to enjoy a little slice of heaven as we watch the lights twinkle along the beach!

I thank our heavenly Father for our memorable night and the rolling hills of Oklahoma. It takes me back to the summer swells. We wander away, sailing in the moonlight; dreaming our life away; and praying God will watch over us.  Praying, I only ask for His will to be done while we remain ever cognizant of giving God the helm.

The Exchange of Money

“I love you”, the English language as a bargaining tool

Today, I sit and re-read the memoirs of my life.  The pages are plagued with virtue.  Like reciting in a mirror, l hear the words I’ve often wondered about.  So many I know, use loosely, the English language as a bargaining tool.  Endearing words mean so little from behind the vocal cords…. “I love You”. This term of endearment is not hardly more than a form of  ‘currency’; a way to ‘buy your way in’.  Redundantly, it sours the hearts of many.

Looking back on my younger days and with desperation playing a part, I see now that “I love you” was going to cost me.  If I’d only understood that “I love you” was a form of currency!  Only now does it all come back to me as a friend explains, “she wanted your wallet”.

Connecting the dots of trials and tribulations, I see God was non-existent.  Money can’t buy love, though at times, those three simple words can. Trying to come to some kind of peace, I’m getting madder by the minute!  How ruthless are those with ulterior motives who want to control a situation by bleeding, “I love you”- a vice to the brokenhearted??

It’s pathetic to believe that some get what they want with, ” I love you “,  at the flip of a tongue. Scorned, my calloused soul retreats to the dark where little light is shown.  Riddled with questions, best guessed answers lie in the remnants of rotten boxes tucked away for safekeeping.  Their weight are words now replaced by actions.

Today, moving on, I realize God was there all along;  just waiting on me.  Peace has replaced the innuendos; harmony reigns like heavens above.  The sound of three little words exemplifies that talk is only cheap when you really do not mean it.

Recollection

God has somehow blocked the hurt within the heritage that shadowed a little boy’s childhood.


Last night, I sat in the most unusual place, and wrote my pastor a short story. It wasn’t so unusual for me to write where I was, but, thoughts came as I reflected back. Looking at life, like headlines, seemed to put it all in perspective. There, the highlights of my life, were dampened like a Saturday shower at a baseball game. God has somehow blocked the hurt within the heritage that shadowed a little boy’s childhood dreams. I’m not alone as I’m sure there are who have lost their parents. For all who can relatDana's dade, I write some memories…….      

Divorce, an act of closure, should never pertain to a child’s recollection. Children, somehow, seem to be a denominator in the equation. At the age of five and left alone, my parents fought amongst themselves. Like pawns on a chessboard, I was disposable. God is nowhere to be found except in our home at bedtime. Their selfish ways dictated their priorities. As a young child, I faltered in the melee, trying to break away as life frustrated me.  But history repeats itself.

My father’s father, a great man, bore a child of great vision that died too young to see his own grow up. So, alone, my soul was a dormant cavern where sharing memories were non-existent. I, lost in life and rejected by most, was perceived as slow and a little retarded. Dyslexia wasn’t even known as a word yet. I would sit in the corner and play with my toys and fantasize what it would be like when I grew up. I entertained myself throughout my early life. 

Mom remarried in the same church where my father’s name was engraved on the gold plated shovel that stands quietly in the vestibule. At eight years old, my little legs shook as the pews filled to watch the happy ceremony. My older brother and I looked on and wondered what happened to the man we called “Pop”. The voids stood tall and the childhood gap, between this and that, left little to be put in a scrapbook. Memories now fill an old man’s life with loss. The holidays and tree trimmings are a mere shadow against the window. Looking back, as pain remains, we must endure from generation to generation. Life has no reverse. 

On this day, I celebrate a man who gave me the inspiration to go on without him.  “Happy Birthday Pop”, who passed away at the tender age of forty-two.  I look to God; not to ask why, but instead, “thank you” for the brief moments I’ve had to remember the father who, once, was in my life. He is now an angel sent back to anoint my direction.  God has, undoubtedly, brought me the strength to go on a journey driven only by faith.

The Color of Greed

No Christians would ever conjure up such a story of hate and disloyalty….


Today, like most days, I started off on a positive note – blue sky and lots of sun. Feeling the power from above, the world needs to be at peace. At least I wish it was so. Driving to work, a melody came that I heard in church. Funny, though, I couldn’t remember the name of it but I hummed it anyway.  No one heard, thank God! I pulled into the driveway. I was the first one there; no sense waiting. I’ll get started without them, I thought to myself.  That was until I realized what I needed at home.

My mood changed as the morning seemed to be disrupted.  The phone rang and the color of the whole world had gone cold.  In my ear, I heard the most bizarre thing I could have imagined. No Christian would ever conjure up such a story of hate and disloyalty to their own sibling.  Like the headline news, the title read, ” Personal Rep absconds with the whole estate”.  I couldn’t believe my ears!  Trying to focus on the job at hand, it gave me little hope. The outcome looked so bleak. I thought, for the love of God, how could a God fearing, church-going Christian, ever treat a little sister as though she never existed? But he did just that!

Arriving home, distraught from the news, the only logical answer was the “Color of Greed,” defrauding your family after their mother’s passing. God must have reserved a special spot for you , IN HELL, I thought . So I sat and listened as you reiterated this farce- a crime so obtrusive, not even could a mother love. The Color of Greed, where money is all that matters and a family is shattered.  The horrible truth is how funds were misused and insurance was pilfered like pocket change.

An attorney was hired but the pieces reminded him of a scrabble board and political correctness overruled. I thought, how evil could a man’s mind work and never allowing God to intervene into his heart?  Here, for sure, Satan conquered and the laws that are broken are a Catch-22.  I held you as the tears swelled, trying to comfort you, for I knew God had to be in this somewhere. I thought about your poor mother who would have killed if she new the truth!

The melee altered the Will even though the Trust was clear.  Though no one saw it, the loans will close and the innocent buyers will never know that this altercation was such a farce. Since then, another close friend has found himself amongst some living that wish he, too, were dead. It amazes me that you never see the real identity of a person until someone passes away, and then — it’s too late! The color of GREED is everywhere.