Inspiration comes at the funniest times. I’m a poor college kid right, needing a job to pay off some loans, and I was provided with work, painting and fixing up a rental home. I had dipped my brush in a bucket of white paint and began to coat it on the door trim, when a stray drop was flung onto an area of the wooden floor that had become uncovered. I quickly rubbed my finger on the pesky drop to clean up the mess when it smeared! Instead of fixing the problem, I was making it worse. But, being stubborn, I kept rubbing. The smear grew and grew–and then, it began to disappear. I kept rubbing and eventually, it was gone! Crisis avoided!
You know, life is a lot like that. It’s messy.
We’re all painters. Maybe for you, it’s a canvas, or your like me painting a house, or maybe you prefer finger painting, but we’re all painters. And we get messy, getting more paint on ourselves than on the wall :). Paint–the grime, filth, and mess of life. It splatters on us and its so hard to get off–if you don’t have the right soap that is.
And as we paint, we’ll make mistakes, Continue reading
Against all odds,
I have taken great
I pray for a great
‘Like a virgin who has
given away her virginity,
her precious gift–
for love? or wasted?
Or a player at a casino,
not a chip not played.
I have taken a chance—
But the ? is–
Am I doing right?
Or burying myself in a grave mistake? Continue reading
Yu’r children cry out,
O’ mother hen, yu’r chicks
séék sfty under yu’r wings,
They cry out from the wind,
yu’r most precious kin.
They feel trapped
like shéép in a pen,
Cornered by wolfe,
Bléating for their shepherd
to come, to sáve them;
Terrified from that monster
that awóke from its den–
Shrp clws, gnashing tééth,
A creature of nightmare–
Houses splinters, tréós náked,
A hspital foundátion shifted;
Men who wept like
A city scared–but hópe nó, not crush.
Many would wish to 4get,
hide their páin béhind
bottles & bottles of gin,
But nó, o’ nó,
Let it nó, not bé 4got.
It will take just 60 seconds to read this and change your thinking..
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.
One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.
His bed was next to the room’s only window.
The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.
The men talked for hours on end.
They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on
Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. Continue reading
“Hello deary!” greets a strange man to a woman with tear-stained cheeks.
“Who are you?” asks the young girl.
“Your savior. I am here to fix you’re little problem.”
“Unless you can turn straw to gold, there’s nothing you can do.”
“You’re in luck!” he says. “It so happens that I can do that very thing. For a price,” he adds.
“Anything! You can have whatever you desire.” The girl was desperate.
“I want nothing much . . . Your first born child would do. Do we have a deal?”
If you don’t accept, you’ll be dead by morn, so it won’t matter anways. “Deal,” she agrees.
The nymph cackles, before he begins to spin the spinning wheel.
We have all heard the fairytale of Rumpelstiltskin [maybe not the Grimm version, in which when his bargain is foiled he angrily stomps his foot into the ground, and tears himself in two while attempting to pull it out], but have you noticed an important theme that can be taken from it? (other than don’t make deals with mythical creatures and promise them your firstborn child?) But, what about turning straw, into gold?
It sounds impossible, doesn’t it? But just because something sounds impossible, doesn’t mean it’s not possible. Just because few have done it, doesn’t mean it can’t be done. Just because you’re dream will be hard to accomplish, doesn’t mean it’s unaccomplishable. Continue reading