The Same One he said…really..

 

I should be here, he is awkward, there are lights on the tree, the air is filled with joy, it’s made for children, the wonder and the surprise, Ahmed is surprised, they celebrate Christmas, the birth of Jesus, the same Jesus we pray to, why aren’t we having a celebration like this. His friend TJ is showing him his home, their parents are away, normally they would not be allowed to do this, the adults not allowing it, but since they are children, they don’t have any of this bias.

Solomon sighed, how barriers are so easily created, when a little wisdom could short change this negative approach easily. Children enjoying the promise of Joy, families and friends being a little more thoughtful, people more together than usual, the world a little warmer in some hearts. Jesus, it’s the same one, for all of us ,why allow a little dogma separate you from joy.  The rules we create that divide us and the walls we build around us.

Stuff we need to get right, amen.

 

 

 

Suffering What, good for me!

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…

 

 

The Rules

She nods, it’s her first day, she made an effort to look smart, neat but not too much, first day, she has to learn the rules. The long sweep of her head, she eyes her as if she’s a mannequin, well, all you will be doing is standing there dear, give them something to look at, distract them, she meant to say him, once he, she corrects, once they get a focus on you it’s easy to control the communication, she is going to be front desk material, it’s the public services desk of an airline, they mostly handle complaints, and women do it better, well, in law, you can’t argue or use language that might be considered biased, women have more thorns, more armor, put them in the front line, those who are protected, they are the rules.

Solomon recalled his father, on his knees, unpacking his luggage, as he had gone over the weight measure limit

and had to exchange stuff for the overhead. A tax on presents, the extra luggage you carry coming back. It was created by an accountant no doubt, a team of them, find areas where we can legitimately charge for, what about the others in the industry, the boss smiles, they are greedy too, they are the rules. Imagine the rules, you get to the heavenly gates, you pass your cards across the counter, and a bribe, a last minute promise, a donation to a popular charity, this will solve the problem. Peter sighs, know the rules, he points to a tablet of rock, points, the guest retches inside, the rules.

Little Bee

Little bee coming home, pouch full of honey, shimmying left and right, breeze catches his hide, pushes his flight, in the distance home, goes a little higher, safe up there, waves at dragonfly, keeps eye on birds, can’t get too close, remember  uncle herb, buzz buzz buzz and more buzz, panic stations alarm bells, puffs of smoke, his little heart jumps, little bee hurries up, dives and dives, brothers and sisters, there’s always someone home, pulls up on tree, exhausted and perspiring, watches afraid to go near, fire and smoke panic, coughing and choking, friends join him, neighbours wanted the honey, rather than negotiate, decided to burn them out, poor bee homeless and sad, honey going to waste, unemployed as well, no wisdom in that.Image