What will I say, how will I defend myself, what are the options, the young apostle is asking the question many have on their minds, they are being sent out, he wonders what the support package includes, this is a risk filled world, they have traps baited, and they expect the new recruits to fail. The master answers, I will send you the Holy Spirit, He will give you all the answers, and if that doesn’t convince them, I will remove the obstacles, you just have to believe. The usual suspects laugh as they see the line of believers, there is a rather cynical attitude prevailing in the minds of those who have controlled the scene for a long time. They have used every trick in the book, to undermine the confidence and faith of the believers. spied, tried to harm emotionally, searched histories, did their worst, the repeating signs in the heavens, have made them wary, this one seems better prepared, they are tentative. they use those at the bottom of their pile to taunt and annoy, they even make promises to family.
Young Slim, is in bed, it’s the night before the big day, when he will set out, the next pioneer, the little turtle trying to get to the life giving water before being eaten. The vultures wait, waiting for him to appear, easy pickings, once he is out of the shelter he is ours. Ever see one of those Clint Eastwood movies, well, just imagine yourself in it. Remember the residents of Nazareth, wasn’t he the carpenter’s son, how could he be any good, a Son of God, give us a break, they spit on the ground, waiting to undermine. Well, the turtle got to the water, David toppled Goliath, and all the old empires ended in the dust, and now, two thousand years later, the changes going on, are overwhelming many, and they all point to what was written in the past.
Solomon smiled, What is Spirit, and why do those in situ spend most of their time trying to undo it, while trying to maintain their own, isn’t that very narcistic, as if they thought the change would never come. Silence the doubters prayed Solomon, the Spirit crises out, amen.
“For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.” Ralph Waldo Emerson “When you are caught in the heavy rains of anger, open the umbrella of the mind, [and] take refuge under the roof of reason!” Mehmet Murat Ildan “Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the […]
The wrinkles, deep and old, taken awhile to acquire them, the signs of character, why try to get rid of them, nothing wrong in showing who you are. Solomon was talking with a friend, the timing was good, the sun was out, and the two of them were re calling, older times. To the outside world it didn’t seem much, there was nothing you could take away, you had to experience it, they were talking about the source, where it all came from.
It’s like a river, they just don’t appear out of nowhere, Solomon nodded, he is a student, listening. The finished product was what most were interested in his friend said, while the journey was what made it what it was.
Solomon imagined a giant river, it could be the Ganges, the amazon. When you think of them, you see a mass of water, flowing strong, deep and constant. How they start, it was the same as an oak tree, a single acorn grows, as for the big river, it begins with the trickle of a stream, after many threads join together, it becomes a big river. Jesus said much the same, all of us are Spirits, we need to create the space inside by simply following the Father’s teaching, no big deal.
In the space of an hour, Solomon and his pal solved a few mysteries, not by trying to be smart, but by listening in a non judge mental way. Could anyone learn this his friend said, Solomon nodded, it’s like the big river, you have to understand how it got so big; it was nothing to notice at the start, just follow the treads.
The weaver sits at the loom, strings of wool, different colors, it requires patience, his fingers are practiced, his foot works the pedal rhythm that turns the loom, he feeds in the different treads, mixes the colors, after awhile a pattern emerges, after that a colorful garment. Life is just like that, lots of strings connected, a few failures to begin with, a practice time, experiences, and finally, a life lived. Imagine it, that big river was no more that a drip when it began, and look what it is now, amen.
You are just being relocated Jones, it’s not that we are getting rid of you, see it our way, you are being moved, an even better job opportunity, won’t you feel great, you will be thanking us afterwards, she smiles through her bleached teeth, her half moon smiles runs as far as her ears, and those nauseating glasses, frame less, all Mr Jones can do is sit there, bite his lip, they are giving him an extra 10% severance, there is nothing he can do, it’s the ultimate breakup, he is going to suffer regardless. Good for me he howls, his arms surround his office bits, pictures of the children, what will he tell the wife, there is a mortgage to pay, and the health cover they have currently is essential, one of the children has permanent bad health, good for me he howls, as he dumps the cardboard box on the back seat and gets into his ford. Suffering is good for me, he slams the car into gear, will I run a red light, too much too much, he calms down. The car is stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to turn green, Jones is all over the place, an old man comes out of a shop, so what, Jones watches him go to the alley, there is a trolley full of his stuff, the old man begins to push it, lame as well, looks like he needs a good nights sleep. Could be me, the lights change, the mood eases, it’s only anger now, cooling as he goes, suffering is good for me, what was she saying, probably had someone to clean her ass all her life…
No good comes out of suffering, well, many would disagree, how many lives have changed in such circumstances. Solomon sighed, what did the early believers feel, when they saw their Leader on the cross, helpless for awhile. Then the signs came, remain patient, and two thousand years later, He is still the one they pray to, how about that! , use my Name he said, the Holy Spirit will come, you just have to believe…the rest is history…
She is an addicted cleaner, she spots dirt, she blows a fuse, her temperature rises, it’s as if she has spotted a demon, out comes the chemical rescue, a squirt here and there, got ya she smiles, while killing anything organic nearby, will you leave me in peace he says, she has the brush under his feet, he is trying to watch TV. She doesn’t listen, this has been the way for years. Solomon sighed, those were the days, a memory that makes him laugh, it wasn’t anything to be shy about.
Being an educator, you can’t make a cake without creating a mess, same way you can’t teach a child without getting upset, difference is, what comes out of the oven. The boy is small, a learner, just imitates and wants to get on with life, pulls a chair to the sink, playing with water, everyone small loves it, the splash and the mess. Roll up your sleeves, the boy turns his head, will you shut up he says, there is a smile on his face, i said roll up your sleeves, I don’t do laundry.
The mess continues, there is water on the floor, there is water everywhere, are you finished yet, the child is washing the dishes, placing them on the side, Solomon is watching carefully, doesn’t want the kid to slip, eventually, eventually, the wash up is done, it’s time to negotiate. The dinner is always a task, how do you get them to eat healthy, do you remember the wash up he says, the child nods, doesn’t notice the spoon in the air, open up, the boy opens his mouth, another mouthful gone.
Mess up for heaven’s sake, there is bargaining power in it, it’s not just mess, it’s real learning. The mothers look at Solomon, what do you know about feeding children, he sighs, there is a cake on the table, he reaches for it, not before you have eaten your dinner they say, i suppose.
Here’s an Emily Dickinson poem for all children, including you! Plus my note to Emily below. The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown; The berry’s cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, […]