The Gift

“Imagine it, your thoughts can be used to remedy, heal, improve, restrict demons, curtail extremism, and an awful lot more, while being still able to enjoy a nice glass of wine, not forgetting the simple things, the peace of mind that good sleep brings, imagine, those demons of the night, they can do nothing, simply aware, of the future that awaits them, and being merciful, at least they get the opportunity to amend, and it’s all real.”

“Are you for real she says”, interrupting his flow. I only asked him about the book he was reading, she didn’t expect a thesis.

They are sitting side by side on the Jet, they are both flying across the ocean, strangers, she had asked a question about a book he was reading, “the imitation of life according to Jesus”. It’s a five hour flight, and he reminds her of someone from her past. She does not fear asking questions. Well, if he is reading a book about “Jesus”, he has to be friendly and easy to open a dialogue with, she hopes. Her own trust in the world is on a downer, divorced, discarded, dumped, thrown overboard, at a loose end, she is looking for the light. She’s been in this frame of mind all day, the journey she is making, a rest and escape from it all.

You don’t believe he says with a smile. Her eyes rise in her head, she looks at the ceiling, if only he knew she thinks. Dumping her stuff on a stranger, who wants to hear about other peoples woes. She purses her lips, half looks at the book cover, then begins to speak.

“If he was so right way back then, it seems he has disappeared don’t you think,” she lowers her eyes to the book.

Jesus she says again. He smiles, it’s catching isn’t it he smiles. The more you think of the Holy Name, the memories and feelings that are created. Well she says, you seem confident about it, can you explain it simply for me. He hums and haws. No one want’s to be a bad teacher, and not every question can be answered as if it’s coming from a machine or robot.

His tongue swirls around his mouth, he catches the scent of her perfume, it makes his nose itchy, he reaches up and rubs his nose.

“Spirit he says, it’s inside you, and there is the Spirit of God, that stuff you call the soul. If you imagine your soul as a new computer, without scratches, then years later, used, with a few cuts and smears, after years of usage, when you are prepared to put it in the rubbish, you might call it a journey. Life is like that disc. What condition is it in at the end of the journey when it’s returned to the original vendor, do you get me he says.”

She is confused, she is trying to get her head around it. Who wants a philosophy lesson on a mid Atlantic flight. Computer discs, souls, the condition at the end, she is thinking all these bits. He looks at her, can see that she is digesting what he has said, waits.

Confusing he says, she pauses, well, it’s not what I expected. The air hostess is passing with the trolley. Can I have a gin and tonic he says, and yourself he says. Non drinker she says.

She listens to the crackle of the ice, as the liquid flows over the ice. He listens and talks well, she wonders how long the flight is, there are many questions she wants answers to. Being an achiever all her life, this conversation is something she does not want to miss. Her Heart feels lighter, that name she sighs, Jesus.

Advertisements

I just Growing up…

She sits in the chair, a little subdued, the medication, she sits while she waits, she is not so sturdy, they gave her a diagnosis, the memory disease, well, it’s an age thing. The limbs don’t have the same stretch, your energy isn’t what it was, the eyes not a clear as they used to be, the appetite too, not as appealing, getting old they said, Mable sighs, I am on a journey, I’m not giving up, I am growing up. A mind of her own, her own ideas, she didn’t beleive the blarney of men in charge, thanks rubbish, who filled them with such stuff, who. She fought her life seeking equality, now the journey has brought her to the care home, at the mercy of those she railed against, those that followed the rules. A nurse approaches, Mabel frowns, the pills, the last time she refused it, they sedated her a whole day, and gave her god knows what. I was just forgetting stuff, doesn’t everybody do that. How much do so many hide inside their heads. How those playing games would change the topic once the questions got testy. No one is allowed question the experts.

Solomon smiled, the story he heard on the radio, the lady with the mind disease, all she wanted, treated me as I am, it’s not your pity I want. Getting old sighed Solomon, we just want to be accepted. The story is never ending, it’s just a change in circumstances, one day you breath, the next your a bird, flying somewhere. Do birds worry when they wake, do they reach for the medication. Mabel, she is a living being in a fast changing world, so fast, the time to look after her is no longer left to relatives, the world so busy, it can hardly look after itself.

The weather, warm and sunny, no one rushing, the only que at the ice cream van, mabel recalls the days of old, how everything that a mother could do was done, same as it always was, by mothers across the world. There is a bitter taste in Mabels mouth, its’ not the tablets, its the story in the paper. The role of women, whitewashed from all circles of importance from the beginning of christianity, then copied by other religions, framing the mind set, bastards she sighs to herself.

Olden Times Men and Girls

Two wives, or three, it was the custom of those times, no outrage, no cries of despair, no call for rights, no culling, no extreme thoughts, this was how they lived, the blessings, the children your love renewed, gifts, Spirits that your love provided space for, how simple, no guru, no extreme master or mistress, awareness of God, the center of the Universe.

Solomon read the story of Hannah, an old Jewish tale, recounts the woes of a young married woman, a descendant of Abraham, as so many of the Universe are. She appeals to God, her prayer is answered, she keeps her word, she calls her son Samuel, dedicates his life to God, three thousand odd years, we remember him.

So the streams of understanding spread out, different groups or cults, new religions, all with the same God, just a matter of understanding, pride and power is very hard to overcome though, have you seen the fashion these days, who with no money needs reminding, how many children worry, they don’t want to appear poor, the poor everywhere treated appallingly, get real. Throw away those rose colored seeing glasses, open your eyes, are you afraid to stare, don’t look that way chuck, what she says, that guy looks like he will rob you. How fear is so easily passed.

She puts on her make up, the babysitter is late, checks her phone, hurry up molly, she has to be on the floor by eight, otherwise they will dock her fifty bucks, with another fifty for the sitter, that will cut her wages a hundred bucks. She runs down the street, hopes it wont rain, gets to the club on time.

The floor manager gives her a feel of the ass, nice dress Marcy, she hates that, how he feels up the girls, some so young, she hopes they will escape the joint. The belly is over his belt, many dinners and too much good living, has taken one of those upper pills for the lower region, wants value for money. She looks at the wedding finger ring he wears, what woman married that lump of blubber. Old men and young girls, you wonder if there is an angel or two among them?. You just have to hope.

It’s a matter of time….

The trouble is it never changes, the same things happen over and over, Amo is listening  to his friend, they are enjoying a coffee at a favorite coffee shop. The two friends are mulling over the times, they are near their end, it’s a matter of time Amo says. His friend smiles, the two of them are not what they were, the limbs are worn, and the eyesight is fading, but they have been friends a long time. They are discussing the end of days, not theirs, that’s a given, its the new world to come that excites them. A lot of new voices are rising up, and there has been many signs, as written in the books of old. Could it be true Amo says, he is excited. The second plane landed on the water, and all survived, the names in the press have an ancient heritage to them, there are changes going on in places no one could have considered, and a TV character is now the president of the United States.

His friend smiles, his head leans left, a smartly dressed young woman passes, just out of his age range by fifty years, Amo leans left too, those were the days, then adds, that New Guy too, at least he’s got serious medical help. Another young woman passes, her head at an angle to the ground, bent over, she is reading her phone, how does she do that without falling over. Amo laughs, it’s good just being able to walk.

Solomon sat at another table, the conversation wagged his ears, he wasn’t spying, he was learning. A matter of time, Ezra said it, or was it the angel, when the time comes, the birthing process begins, a serious of signs, the soft warnings, then it gets closer. It reminded him of a spiral. A matter of time, why not invest in Spirit, he sighed. Given the changes going on, the human race could do with more credit in those hidden places, it’s a matter of time.

Finding Redemption

She sits at their kitchen table, has been speaking with their friends, her lawyer too, she has caught him cheating, she is waiting for him to come in the door, their santuary has melted before her eyes, the cocoon they built, was it all lies, I trusted him with my happiness, and now it’s all about to disintegrate. Her life is over, she is barely forty. The time I invested in him, worse, the other men she gave up for him, the career she set aside, maybe that is an excuse, another reason to hate him, we all strecth the truth, sanctimonious, who isn’t. How she liked fixing their meals, the list gets bigger. So many things she overlooked, the stuff she put up with, inside she tells herself she is perfect, well, he was the one who thrashed the relationship. There is the sound of a car in the drive, she fills the wine glass before he comes in, she doesn’t want him to have one. She is angry.

I’m home he says, she hears his voice in the hall, he has no idea that she knows, or what is ahead of him. He drops the keys on the counter, I’ll open another one he says with a smile, he needs a friend, he is looking at the bottle, it’s empty, why the silence he says, he is full of himself, a great day at the office and two weeks off as a result. I know she says, what, they have told you already, that’s quick. He fetches a glass sits down beside her, why the gloom he says, she is prone to depression, he doesn’t rile her, she gets over it within an hour, she has been that way, since she lost the baby.

It’s only your imagination he says, when she confronts him, he understands, she has not been feeling well these last few months, it’s easy to understand. Compassion, he is a patient man.

 

To wake up each morning knowing that the Creator of the universe loves you — From guest writers… re blog, you are never alone

The greatest thing in life is to wake up each morning knowing that the Creator of the universe loves me. As one writer put it ‘He loves me as I am, not as I should be, but He loves me too much to leave me as I am’. ~ Alan Hermann

To wake up each morning knowing that the Creator of the universe loves you — From guestwriters

People of the Book

Rejoice, Amo was laughing, stuck to the bed in body, his Spirit was flying, aged, ninety or thereabouts, useless in the eyes of the material minded, gold in the eyes of God. He was a mature wine, and holding court to anyone who would listen. Solomon had come to visit, on his Spirit journey. The Sky opens, the sun bursts, the light from Heaven, the Power that speaks life Eternal, it’s not a fairy tale after all. You are not alone. Amo smiled, as another chocolate entered his mouth, he loves sweet stuff.

The meeting of Spirit, the opportunity to pass on wisdom. Solomon knew without doubt, that Amo was heading up, and he wanted to get a petition in, in advance of Amo’s return. Use the connection, Amo was bringing home a soul full of good deeds, and the Eternal Father was going to be smiling. Solomon being a close relative of Amo was not one to lose such a golden opportunity.

Earlier that week, the demon Angels had tried to push Solomon off course, as regular as race horses not trying to win, only trying to confuse him, hoping to sow doubts, the stuff they had been doing all their life, feeding fear into the Universe, Solomon was waiting for them, expecting them to do exactly that. Play dumb, be stupid, but act wisely. They will never suspect a thing. By the time they take the bait, it’s game over, they will come under the radar of heaven.

Solomon, in that mindset, was giving old Amo a pet talk. Ask for a little more he said, Amo raised his eyes, at ninety years of age, do you think I’m a work horse, what do you mean. How about an end to extremism, and assistance to those building the bridges of understanding between the people of the book. Amo nodded, I will do that sighed Amo, who loved everything that had Heavenly advice in it.

It’s great to have friends in High Places, amen.