Food And Water

A writing prompt I was given challenged the group of writers I was with to take something innocuous and play up the subtext. The goal was to learn to write freely and remove my judgment of characters I write about.

Food and Water

A Flight of the Imagination
 

 Sometimes a person does not know that they are thirsty so they indulge their need with something else. Something that may be equally as good for them - like gratifying, nourishing, delicious food. And the food is wonderful. It may be the best food the person has ever sampled in their entire life.  As they sit back and nosh on morsel after sumptuous morsel, the person closes their eyes, slowly savoring each and every bite.

 Even so, water invigorates the cells of the body. Water helps the person to grow. It hydrates. It clears things up for the person - not just their skin, but also their sight. Yes, water helps the person to see better and gain perspective on life. Sometimes the person only wants a sip of the water – just a single, small, sip would be enough. Just enough. 

 At other times, though, the person becomes greedy and sees the water as a pool. No. More accurately, the water is an ocean. An ocean that the person sometimes only wants to dip the tip of their toes into or perhaps only wade in as deep as their ankles. But, in other times - though the person is not able to swim at all - she visualizes swimming in the ocean. Letting her perfectly coiffed hair get wet as she dives in deep, deep, deep beneath the raging currents.

 And, just when she feels she can no longer hold her breath a minute longer, she will ascend from beneath the ocean’s depths and lazily allow her body to float along with the rise and fall of the ebb and flow of the waves. She cannot believe how, mentally, she had compartmentalized and pushed to the recesses of her mind the fact that she loves the ocean.

 However, the sun’s rays, beating down upon the would-be-swimmer in the ocean, are at once warm and inviting as well as brutally glaring. Suddenly, she remembers that she is not able to swim and she hurries back to shore so that she does not drown in the vastness of the waters - beautiful as it is, lovely though it be.  The ocean is powerful, mighty, and swift. And, going too far into its currents is scary and dangerous. And yes, alas, forbidden to the swimmer who is trespassing along its private, already-occupied, seaboard.

Mind you, the ocean would never purposefully cause harm to the swimmer. The ocean is not designed to harm; the swimmer is aware of that.  The ocean was created for sustenance and is essential to life. The ocean provides and protects for so many. Yet sometimes, the ocean is not seen for what it is - precious and in need of care. It is taken for granted as always being there – always just existing.

But now, no longer a swimmer, she makes her way back to land and sits on the beach, underneath the huge umbrella staked next to her picnic basket. With a smile, she slowly eats her delicious food. She is, in a word, content.

In a perfect world, water and food co-exist. She is designed to need them both. They both help her to be better than she has ever been at any point in her life. She realizes that she can eat as much as she desires. Yet, can only contentedly gaze at the inviting, beautiful, refreshing, revitalizing body of water.

How she admires the grace and beauty of the ocean. No matter how far she may wander from the ocean's shore, her heart is always near. And at times, when she has a moment alone and allows herself private thoughts , she daydreams about swimming yet again.

                                        _____________________________

 

Based on my written assignment above, what is your best guess as to what the subject was supposed to be?

What, if any, are your difficulties with judging real life people or fictional characters?

PS...do not steal, borrow, or plagiarize my stuff. (The guilty party/parties knows who I'm talking to.)  ;-) Smooches!

If

What if I took off my mask? What if I stopped striving to be the image you see and just became me? What would happen if I stopped trying to please? What would happen if I stopped being afraid to live? What would happen if...

If. Such a small word yet it holds so much power. Two letters. Heavyweight championship letters bound together in an iron-clad fist. "If" has the power to strike fear in my heart. "If" makes me count the cost, weigh out the pros and cons, check out the potential win/lose ratio. How much of myself do I have to give to take on "if"? How much of myself will I lose should I decide to challenge "If"?  How much will I gain should I decide to stare "if" in the eyes and defeat it?

If I write this post and no one sees it but me, will it matter? If I write this post and no one's inner critic is conquered but mine, is it a win or a loss? If I write this post and someone thinks it's stupid and worthless, will it mean that my thoughts are worthless and stupid?

Am I giving too much power to "If"? Am I giving too much power to others? Am I giving too little power to myself?

If I dare to be me - and nobody likes the me that I am - will *I* like me?

If I dare to unravel myself from the cloak of shame I sometimes wear...

If I dare to chisel the real me out from within the concrete stones in which I have cocooned myself...

If I dare to be authentic...

I will be free.

And, if nobody likes me but me, well...good.

I will finally, really, like me. The real me.

Huh? You Talkin' To Me?

2 Chronicles 7:14 resonates with me deeply with me:

"Then if my people who are called by my name will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sins and restore their land."

My conscience keeps telling me, "Yolanda, humble yourself before something or someone humbles you." And, I'm pretty sure that this humbling by others would not be a good thing if it were to happen. 

The voice in my head is a warning against the pride that I sometimes let get in my way. There are times when I think, "I've got this. I can handle it. I don't need any help. I don't need to let anybody get so into my life and see my issues." And, then BOOM! Along comes some unexpected and completely unplanned for issue/problem/bill/note from the kids' school/trouble at work/etc. 

So, God says, "But if my people..." 

Well, dang. Um, yeah, I AM his people. He's definitely talking to me. Sometimes, my pride keeps me from noticing that he's talking directly to me. I'm like, what? Dude, I'm a good girl. He's talking to THEM OTHER folks. That's the danger with pride, it blinds you to reality. 

Thankfully, the Lord gives us easy (ok, sure...sometimes easier said than done depending on how prideful we've gotten) steps to take in order for Him to hear our pleas once again. He says, if MY people:

1) Humble themselves - which is usually the hardest part
2) Pray
3) Seek my face 
4) Turn from their wicked ways

He promises to do two things: 
1) I will forgive their sins
2) Restore their land

How amazing is it that we hold the key to our restoration? I plan on using my key to unlock the door to forgiveness and restoration. 

If you were to conduct an honest assessment of your life, how humble are you? How, if at all, has pride gotten in the way of you facing reality? 

Of the four steps God requires us to do, which is difficult for you? Why? 

Do you have an accountability partner to walk with you through life...someone you give permission to speak openly and honestly with you?

Leave your comments below.

Peace out.

Muzzling Hurricanes

Mark 4:35-40

35As evening came, Jesus said to his disciples, “Let’s cross to the other side of the lake.” 36 So they took Jesus in the boat and started out, leaving the crowds behind (although other boats followed). 37 But soon a fierce storm came up. High waves were breaking into the boat, and it began to fill with water.

38 Jesus was sleeping at the back of the boat with his head on a cushion. The disciples woke him up, shouting, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re going to drown?” 39 When Jesus woke up, he rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Silence! Be still!” Suddenly the wind stopped, and there was a great calm. 40 Then he asked them, “Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?” 

So, let’s recap. A group of friends were hanging out together; Jesus was head of this crew. The friends were in an intimate, privileged, relationship with Him by now. They all confided and shared things with one another. Jesus revealed things to them that he had not revealed to others. They were trusted companions. They had Jesus as one of their best friends.

Anyway, after some time of teaching to a large crowd and then private ministering to the core twelve, Jesus tells his crew that it’s time for them to head out. As they were headed to the other side of the lake the twelve’s lives were literally shaken to the core. They didn’t just hit a rough patch in life. Their world was turned inside out and topsy turvy by violent gusts of wind. As a matter of fact, the Greek word used to describe what assailed them was lailaps, pronounced lah'-ee-laps, which can be translated as hurricane, whirlwind, squall. Strong winds churned the lake so badly that water began crashing over and into their boat, filling it with water.

Naturally, the friends began to panic. Well, all of them except for one (I’m sure you know who that one was). Throughout the chaos and mayhem that terrified the others Jesus slept…peacefully, soundly, and without worry or care. I wonder if the twelve were running and thrashing about like chickens with their heads cut off; anxious and fretting as they frantically filled any type of object that would hold water. Hysterically, dumping the heavy load over the side of the boat, constantly repeating the dip-fill-toss process, but not quite able to keep up with the flood spilling into their boat.

Something tells me that one of them, (or maybe all of them?) started getting kind of ticked off at Jesus. The 3-D movie in my mind pictures them scurrying to him; eyes wide and shining with panic and tears; their chest panting heavily. Their minds strained and to the point of near-breakdown. And in this fearful state they lose their minds and yell at Jesus. The audio in my mind has the conversation going something like, “Dude. I thought you cared about us? I thought you promised to be there for us and with us. What’s up with you sleeping while we are fighting this gigantic storm? Hello????? Do you not see the trouble we are in? There's water. In the boat. In. The. Boat! Are we alone in all of this? Do we have to clear this flood out of the boat all by ourselves? Seriously, are you gonna let us (gulp) drown (a.k.a die)? “

I’m just saying, I think they’d better be glad Jesus loved them and had continuous patience and mercy for them because in all honesty, he could have gone off on them for disrespecting him like that. But, thankfully, that’s not his character. He turned first to the storm. The Greek word for rebuke, as in verse 39, is epitimaó, pronounced, ep-ee-tee-mah'-o. It can mean to chide, admonish, warn. But another meaning is to “place due weight/honor upon.” The way things went down makes me think Jesus thought the wind deserved very little attention or weight. My mind’s audio has him thinking something like, “Really y’all? Y’all are fretting over this? Y’all woke me up because of a…wait for it…wind storm?”

And, then, the 3-D movie in my head has Jesus giving the wind the side-eye and eye-roll treatment, as if to say, “puhleeze”. “Hush up, “ he says to the wind. “Be still, “ he says, as if to a child hyped up on sugary cereal. The Greek word for silence used in the scripture was phimoó, pronounced fee-mo'-o, which means to muzzle. I thought that was powerful image (and funny in my 3-D movie world). Jesus muzzled the wind as one would an obnoxiously mean dog that is prone to biting or injuring others. In effect, Jesus rendered the hurricane winds speechless and of no consequence.

Next, he turns to his friends and asks them a couple of very important questions. Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

I don’t have time to delve into this deeper tonight. But, trust me, I will. It’s just that it’s nearly midnight as I’m writing this. My younger son has to be at football practice early tomorrow – coaches are picky about things like that, you know. I’m usually getting him there in the nick of time.

So, to be continued…

Symphony

In the cool shade of the trees I sit in a beautiful garden oasis hidden in the back of my job’s campus. I am umbrella’d by a sturdy wrought-iron canopy welded to a black, wrought-iron bench. I seek peace in the midst of a mad, mad, day. Not angry mad; more like “crazy” mad. “Busy” mad. “People-getting-on-my-nerves” mad. Nearby, ants scale an adjacent pole. I watch, mesmerized. Quickly, they scurry up, up, up. No fear, it seems, whatsoever.

My attention is diverted as the perfume of honeysuckle wafts past my nose.  My mind immediately flashes back to happy times; not that I am sad now, because I am not. Honeysuckle always recalls to my memory vivid images of preschool and kindergarten: pedaling around on tricycles; jumping through chalk-drawn squares of a hopscotch game; hula-hooping until my hips hurt; tossing out silver colored jacks with a flourish of the wrist; climbing, climbing, climbing to the top of my personal Mount Everest – an octagon-shaped jungle gym. I smile and sigh, contentedly. I love honeysuckle. I do not like honeysuckle-scented stuff…only pure, from the earth, honeysuckle.

I kick my feet up on a long, narrow, wooden foot rest and sink down a little lower against the bench; mellowed by the memory. Across from me, a gurgling pond is tagged and picks up where the honeysuckle left off. Its burble-burble-burble calms my soul; as if I’m a horse and it’s my “whisperer”. Its continual sound beckons. It says, “Focus on me. Keep listening until you hear only me. Tune out the sounds of the nearby highway. Forget that you are sitting in the middle of a downtown, urban, office complex. Close your eyes. Hear each splash. Tune your ear to the individual bubbles bursting upon my surface. Imagine the pattern of circles as each splash ripples and fades across me. Listen to the crush of the water cascading into itself." Releasing it all, I exhale again.

Now that my soul is quiet, I can hear the singing of the crickets, soft and sweet. Their gentle hum calls out to their mates. The rustle of the wind crescendos through the pine and green persimmon trees that populate the garden. A few large, dried, fallen leaves scrape along the weathered stone path. They sound, to my ears, like a pair of rattling maracas adding texture and layers to my private symphony. Yes, now, I am aware that I am an audience of one for a grand symphony. This beautiful orchestra is performing only for me. Soothingly, I feel the soft wind caressing my neck, as if to gently massage out any remaining tension. It continues to whisper in my ear a tranquil tune.

Dandelions are not weeds in this performance. No, instead, they are featured players dancing across a majestic stage. Twirling in their fluffy white skirts. Swaying. Floating way high. High, high, higher than my eyes can see. Chirping birds in the distance round out the chorus. Singing soprano, in accompaniment to the melodious clamor of the crickets, the water and the wind.

The most beautiful part of all of this is that I am wide-awake, yet, in perfect, tranquil, awe. I am awed at the loving magnitude and creativity of my Lord. He is such an amazing conductor. I am not dreaming this wonderful, truly wonderful, experience that he designed just for me in the midst of all this busyness. He gave me this private oasis, this tranquil garden, to press the pause button of life in; to envelope myself in His care.  If only I choose to.

I appreciate You, God. Take a bow, Father. Encore! Encore!  

Psalm 23 (NLT Version)
The LORD is my shepherd; I have all that I need. He lets me rest in green meadows; he leads me beside peaceful streams. He renews my strength. He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name. 

Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me. Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me. You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies. You honor me by anointing my head with oil. My cup overflows with blessings.

Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the LORD forever.