Resign, Resignation, Moving On

resign |riˈzīn|
verb
voluntarily leave a job or other position; leave, hand in one's notice, give notice, stand down, step down; leave, vacate, stand down from;renounce, relinquish

Dear God it’s me, your daughter—again.
“No good byes, farewell or dinner parties, or wonderful conversations over meals. Leave.”
How to explain that to the people I know? Not…can’t
I have the audacity to believe the compelling within my gut pushed me from comfortability onto a road unknown but not first traveled.
"Go out from your country, your relatives, and your father’s household to the land that I will show you." God spoke those words to Abraham. He I am not.

And so without traditional so longs, farewells, auf wiedersehen, good-byes the Ford Focus Zx3 was packed. Harvey, my brother, helped us by taking things that wouldn't fit in the car (larger, but smaller, than believed).

What was I to tell people? "God told me"? There are times I don't even know if I do hear Your voice. Our conversations are unique. So, I prefer not to talk about something that doesn't make sense in the natural (when I'm being obedient to the compelling from the spiritual). All I have are the dreams of places to go, highways to drive, and a fellow traveler.

Dear God, thank you for taking care of us so far. There's so much to tell; too much for this blog. Tomorrow, from the same hotel, part 2.

i sit in my puffy chair

and finger ergonomic bumps

to do my bidding

rearranging

sights and sounds
to go

my way
to be

my truth
to save

my life

30 second

byte-size slices

of schizality
coming
fast, furious
shimmering, shaking
snaking, sliding,
deceiving
distracting
denying
but not delaying
my own
digital
demise
one
dot
at
a
time...

George MacDonald Quote of the Day...

From the man who comes to know and feel that Power in him and one with him, loneliness, anxiety, and fear vanish; he is no more an orphan without a home, a little one astray on the cold waste of a helpless consciousness. (The Hope of the Gospel, God's Family)

Living Truth

I am glad that Jesus didn't point to something other than himself, like a book or a tablet or a scroll or any object around him, and say, "That is the way, the truth and the life." When he referred to himself as the Truth that told me that the ultimate truth is not a purely abstract, mental concept. Truth wasn't something to wrap our minds around but our hearts. In other words, Truth is not a proposition but a Person. Here in this divided world, we can express a truth without living it. In heaven, where all is tried by the fire of God's presence, only those who are living truths will be able to stand the heat. There can be no duplicity. Only true integrity (wysiwyg) will be able to bear the "weight of glory."

Reel it in to the present

I am a man divided

I think truth

I fondle lies

wysiNOTwyg

I smile outside

Only God knows what's going on in the inside

who can deliver me from this perpetual state of duplicity?

case in point:

last Thursday I cut down a large diseased section of our fig tree

I left two branches for my son to help carry to the front sidewalk

My son tells me that he can't lift them

They are too heavy for his pencil-thin arms

I ignore him because I've got more important things to do

The next day the large trash truck is coming

I remember the two limbs

I run out, grab them, and haul them to the front sidewalk

They feel light in my hands

I remember my son's words

"They're too heavy for me, Daddy"

He lied.

I confront him at the breakfast table

Humiliating him in from of his mother and sister

He starts to cry

He stops eating

I justify my anger by saying I want him to know that he's stronger than he thinks he is!

My wife tells me that I only want to prove that I'm right

She knows me well

But I ignore her and drag my son out to the front yard

To make him prove that he is wrong

He sees the two branches that I've separated from all the rest of the limbs

He says Those aren't the branches!

I say Those are the branches!

We play several rounds of ping pong

I am the stronger, better ping pong player

He carries the limbs to the sidewalk with some effort and says

These aren't the limbs!

The ping pong whooshes pass me

I try to help him see the truth

All he can see is an angry father who is more concerned that he is right

He calls me a liar

I shout at him and tell him to go to his room

I face his mother who looks at me like I'm a stranger

She has to teach him for the rest of the day

And I've just ruined it for her

What do I care? I'm right! I know the truth!

THOSE WERE THE LIMBS!

She tells me that I have to face the weeping angel in the room

I go and stand before his door

Lord have mercy on me

Give me the words to say to help my son see that I'm right

I walk through the door

There is my son

A Tempest

Rocking

Weeping

My heart skips a beat

I forget my wrath for a second

I forget the truth I was going to whack him on the head with

He says he wants to talk to mama

He wants to share his side of the story

I say she's not the judge

He can share his side of the story with me

He knows I already know his side of the story

And he stands condemned in my eyes

But he braces himself

He says those weren't the same limbs

Maybe a kid in the neighborhood came by and took it

I look in his eyes

I don't see a desperate criminal trying to weasel his way out of a crime

I see a little child desperately wanting to be believed

Wanting to be loved

I say do you really believe those aren't the limbs?

He nods his head

I breathe

The moment of truth

Ok, son, I will believe you

Even though my mind tells me that those are the same limbs

I will choose to believe that you believe they aren't

I know that there are many things I've done in life that were or weren't true

But only Jesus will be able to sort them out for me

And when that happens, it will not be a day to mourn

but a day to rejoice

To see our lives the way He sees them is freedom

And life

And love

It was like watching the sun rise in my son's face

the rain vanished from his eyes

he smiled

he couldn't believe what just happened

there was no condemnation

Next thing I knew he was happily helping his mom water the garden

The Day wasn't ruined

yes, i know what some of you are thinking

i just reinforced his propensity to lie, to get away with it

maybe i did, maybe i didn't

but you know,

i wouldn't be surprised

if an angel were holding those limbs down,

making them immovable

just to test me

sort of like Balaam's Ass who saw the angel

and in the end ended up saving Balaam's ass

or maybe my son did try to move them

but because they got caught on something

and because my son has asperger syndrome

and therefore is easily distracted

he really couldn't move them...

What is the truth?

The truth is Jesus was with my son when he tried to move the limbs

and I wasn't

If I had been with my son

The way the Truth chooses to be with me

I could have saved him and myself from much madness

Lord Jesus Christ Son of God have mercy on me a sinner!

I've Got People!

Dear God, it's me - again;
You wrote in your chronicles (i believe the 14th sentence in the seventh chapter)
if your people, called by your name...
you have got people
and we are learning (still)

well today, celebrating you giving me another year to breathe
i was reminded - again
i got people down here on this earth
and am humbled by their happy words
(yes Eugene, i am laughing)
words of love
placing hope within my heart that Your Body might just get it after all
one person at a time

and so to my people here to Guam to Tennessee
and all the places in between
your words plucked my eyes
remembered your faces
smiling mouths open
blessing me
reminding me
of conversations around plates of food
sharing beliefs and doubts
and more of the same
reminding me that i miss you all
and have no idea if we'll ever meet again
the joy is that we have met
spoken
laughed
cried
done a small part of life
together

and those are stepping stones into my new year
i never believed i'd live to be 50
passed that milestone
i have to tell you
it gets deliciously better
with God mixin' it up!

and God and i continue to look for Him in America

My Dreams Haunt Me

i awoke crying & speaking
"oh God"

i'd had a warring dream
the details are not important here
but within this dream - human on human horror
and there were children
helpless children
at the end of this dream
i was holding a little boy
hugging my face
"tank you" came from his mouth
i held him close and began crying
crying for the pain of the place
crying out
"oh God, oh God, help us"

i awoke and thought
through my tears
how far are we away from that human on human horror
where children are...

dear God, it's me - again

A Better Way to Speak My Heart

this evening i had the unfortunate experience of speaking from an emotional place of historical pain
it let me know that i still have personal pain over the way i'm still treated because of the color of my skin
it's unfortunate that the racial divide of our nation's been minimized to the comfortable definition of 'capitalism'

dear God;
how do i let you live through me when i keep getting in the way?

The Work of My Hands

Is leaked into my eyes
when I am blinking myself awake.
A list of divine
tasks,
some as simple as washing a dish
an application mailed in
an assignment explained,
a phone call, encouragement
for the weary,
a meal served,
hands washed
and words written down,
pictures taken,
hope reigned in,
and just like that, just like that,
the sun is already setting.
My magic tucked in around me
underneath the home-made quilt
keeping me warm,
my hands numb,
my eyes,
my eyes closed.

I've Got A Question For You...

i recently asked a friend the following question: imagine you're in a pitch dark somewhere. you don't know yet where you are because you can't see anything, but you can hear and feel something. and then it begins to dawn on you: you're in water because you can feel its cold wetness and you can hear it swishing around your hands, arms, and legs. on the heels of this realization comes an ominous dread: because your feet and arms aren't coming into contact with anything other than water, you could be in the middle of the vast ocean with thousands of miles between you and dry ground. you shout out "help! anybody there? help me! i can't stay afloat much longer!" there is no reply. not even an echo of your own voice. you begin to swim madly in all directions. who knows? maybe you're simply treading water in a large pool... or maybe a sandy shore is just a stroke away...dread turns into abject fear. you begin to thrash about reaching for something, anything to keep you from going below the surface—below the surface: your body shudders involuntarily in response to the unnerving thought. the theme from jaws "duh—dumps" in your frantic brain. needlelike pain begins to shoot through your arms and legs as lactic acid brickifies every sinew in your extremities. suddenly, just before you sink helplessly below the liquid darkness, you grasp something. without thinking you wrap your arms around it and hang on for dear life. ok, now comes the question: what's that thing you find yourself clinging to?

i won't tell you what my friend said but i will tell you this: the first adam, when he found himself treading water in the darkness of the fall, held onto himself and an inadequate leaf-shaped flotation device, and we, his progeny, have been following in his footsteps (wake?) ever since. the final Adam, on the other hand, when he found himself in an even hairier and darker situation, against his feelings, against all that his senses screamed at him, entrusted His Spirit into the hands of the Unseen, Unheard, Unfelt One. there's been only one who's been there and done that, and so he alone is uniquely qualified to take us on the journey from darkness into light.

No Rest for the Weary

weary |ˈwi(ə)rē|
adjective ( wearier , weariest )
feeling or showing tiredness, esp. as a result of excessive exertion or lack of sleep

tiring, exhausting, wearying, fatiguing, enervating, draining, sapping, wearing, trying, demanding, taxing, arduous, grueling, difficult, hard, tough

Dear God, It me - again;
How do I get myself trapped within spaces, within walls, that try to define me and I still don't know the full understanding of who I am? How?
I want people to like me, chose me, love me (a person-pleasing spirit) and that is not healthy. It sits low within me and comes out when I least expect; don't like it at all.
I know it because my inner voice speaks "careful...careful", but my mouth engages and a lie speaks.
"I'm well, thank you."
"It's good to see you." (accompanied by the back patting hug)

And within my mental landscape I war with myself another day questioning whether I am loved for just me and not what someone can get out of me or without me giving away my soul.

There's so much to tell and so much to write; but then I'd have to bring things I don't want to remember forward.

Dear God, thanks for listening.