I went in his house and sat down. I was a stranger. And he took it upon himself To make me feel comfortable. He did. Just a feel good moment.
via I Was A Stranger — The Chatter Blog
He went to reach for his toothbrush, felt a brush against his leg, two sleepy eyes look up at him, Solomon smiled, inside he thought to himself, I hoped you would stay in bed, even an hour would have been great, that plan is gone, he continues to wash his teeth instead. Little hand reaches for his, Solomon smears it with paste, watches while the child imitates his moves, his small eyes watching how he moved the brush across his mouth, half laughing, but seriously laughing, glad to have a role model, one he
could argue with, one he could ask, one he was not afraid of. Stern words were never spoken, just a cast of the eyes and a frown did the trick every time. The routine is finished, the time for the breakfast, Solomon does the big friend thing, sits down and eats with the small boy. Slurp after slurp, the watchfulness of the young master, imitating the teacher, a wise young child.
How Children imitate it all; and how those charged with responsibilities tried to blame the individual for their failures. Later; He hears the cot move, the time is early morning, Solomon sighed; so this is what it’s like to be a mother, your children take your attention and time. The stuff Solomon learned from the young master, amen.
It happened to me, it happened to her, the closet, the stuff we hold tight inside us, the fears, the anxieties, the global closet is a large one. In a time of great revelation, with so much changing so quickly, it is hard to keep the closet door closed and locked for ever, despite the efforts of some, to hide the truth from everyone. Solomon read a story of the art works kept hidden in secure specially prepared warehouses, art that would never be seen, only sold. And what was the purpose of it all, more. It also gave him an insight into the hidden treasures of all the main religions, the ancient documents, the testimonies hidden, and the great betrayals, safely tucked away in the guarded closets. In a time of Great revelation and divine interventions, wasn’t it time they made known the secrets they kept hidden, as no one of them could fool the Lord, amen.
Can’t cope, can’t concentrate, you keep on running and those problems they keep following us. Life was a field of lava, it was all depending where you were. watching it from afar it’s not serious, up close it can all become consuming. He wondered, the flow of the lava and the human flow, or the race. He wanted to create a sermon that would help the congregation, they had been terrorized to long with the message of doom and damnation. They needed hope, a version of it that would stay in their minds. maybe that is the reason Jesus spoke in story terms: the legend would pass on, and while it may altar according to the sort of people who relayed it, basically, the use of terms common to that particular culture, the nugget would remain the same. That’s it, he saw it. The lava that flowed down the mountain, were the troubles that followed you, the problems you never dealt with, while salvation was the truth, how simple did that sound, how would he put it into the sermon, the performance was an hour away.
He loves himself so much he puts himself on answerphone and listens to himself, while imposing a reality on himself that is so far removed from reality to make it real, well, they say he is crazy, how about you. The sound of his own voice soothes, so he records himself all day, then late at night he replays the whole thing again. Amazingly, people donate half a weekly wage packet to hear him sing, and they do it regularly, who am I?
It was late after Christmas dinner, they had been playing charades for over an hour, and it was beginning to get to much, even for, Me. Blame the turkey me sighed, there was something strange about it. Strange, birds eat creepy crawlies, we eat birds, strange that we don’t like creepy crawlies. Solomon sighed, he was doing the thinking. Imagine it, all those angry demons, imagine all those factory reared birds, imagine the match of all matches, matching demon spirits with those about to be decapitated for our Christmas dinner, imagine that. Disposal was a problem, even in the time of Jesus, amen.
You mean all that stuff is true he asked, the soul train is a connection of working souls, joined together in common purpose, they accept the wisdom of God smiled the old man. The young boy looked at the old man, haggard and worn, the night was cold and the dark was closing in. On his way back from the store, he encountered this lively man with the light eyes. The boy stopped, the old man was seated on a bench, was shivering from the conditions, another long night and the hope of tomorrow, a maybe.
Where you going to stay for the night he asked? The old man smiled, i’ll find a place, on the soul train replied the boy. They made their way down the street, there was a shed out the back of the house, neat and free from the chill, it won’t matter spoke the boy, who told the old man it was going to be fine, he might even be getting a bowl of soup. A blanket, a pillow, a space for the night, the soul train continued that evening, in the heart of the boy that cared. When did you meet me Lord, it was the question that would be on the lips of everyone who asked him
, amen.
I hear that again she says, I hear it everyday, her head is splitting, what can she answer, he has left them, just keep them busy, she does her best, works two jobs to keep it together, their boy, well, her boy, what do you say to the abandoned child. Besides she thinks, so many have to get used to it, a moral crime, but who notices. Halloween is approaching, trick or treating she smiles. He is helping her clean the kitchen, his small hand on the brush, I’ll do this he says. He heard it said in church, do good at home and the Good Lord will help you out, so he tries.
Where is Daddy gone, she hears it in the morning, how can I fix it for him, buy him a new toy, anything to distract him. Seeking the love he has been denied, he will seek till something overtakes his emotions, he’s a pushover for anything that blurs his mind. The years pass, he is in a jail cell, sharing it with another affected child that never grew up. What did your father do asks his cell mate, how can you answer, he was a deadbeat, left them.
Solomon was listening to a story, it was hard on the heart what he heard, the stuff you have to listen to, but a listener he was. The child is a tool in a warring marriage gone wrong, hurt the father, deny him access, it’s her trump card. all she did was hurt her child. Bargaining with love and turning it into hate instead, was this the fate of the world he wondered. They planned for the worst in government circles, never once thinking there was another way. Solomon sighed, do they want Holy Spirit to succeed, or is it just words.
In a nutshell, the world and it’s survival depended on the love on offer, he hoped it was going to improve, amen. Storms had eased, blessings poured in, it was not imaginary, Solomon was reminding himself, the life on offer had much to offer, if only we put a little more thought into it. His own woes had been increased and he was trying to avoid trouble, was it a test, hardly, just the demon hoping to confuse him. Are you listening Dear Father in Heaven?.
