Harvest Of Truth

 My New Year's Resolution was to be honest, even when it's uncomfortable.

I'm starting to lose the meaning. Self-delusion about my own strength and worth is being stripped away by day and night, and the holes in my faith and trust are starting to show.

Pain is doing this, of course, but also bodily humiliation and fatigue, and seeing even small aspirations pass beyond my reach.

I need the courage of full surrender, but it's not just a word, nor is it an action, once done with difficulty and then past.

It's a process, and may well call for more grit than I have.

I have to learn how to be brave

and reweave my warp and my weft

so that perhaps I can save

the worth of the time I have left,

to rise past the pain and despair,

to cling to the Foot of the Cross,

in blood-drops of He who hangs there

as ransom for sin and for loss,

and then perhaps raise my head

to look into the kindest of eyes

that offers Himself in my stead

if I can turn from self-told lies

that paint me as hero of old

but leave my heart lost in the cold.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is PERSUADE.

I've tried hard to persuade you all

that I am bulletproof,

but that tale us getting tall

and you deserve the truth,

to know I'm really terrified,

and to know that I 

do not care to be sanctified 

if it means I have to die,

for there are those who say to me

that I demonstrate faith and trust,

but the honest truth, you see

is that, really, I just 

want to these days to last and last,

and want this fatal cup to pass.

Syl offered me a lick of her ice cream. One lick.

Clowns Of Glory Tell His Story

I came to Christianity from a Buddhist background, and combined with hearing loss through prolonged exposure to really loud noises, I misheard some things.

Like, Jesus healed leopards. Since He's the Lion of Judah, thus seemed pretty cool, that He had an affinity for big cats, but what about tigers and cheetahs and panthers? Were they left out?

And then...

I hope I'll be surviving

to the ending of this story 

when Christ will be arriving 

with His Clowns of Glory,

whom I will then gladly join,

big red nose and floppy shoes,

and will then sinners enjoin

to hear the bright Good News

that Calvary was not a test,

but is a hospital.

It's not for the righteous best,

but for those who fell

and can only stand again

by His Blood, and by His Pain.

Sylvia rose from the blood of a dead puppy in her womb, and the pain if adandonment in a Texas summer field. She gets it, and she can still laugh.

No Choice But Forgiveness

 When you're tempted to the rage

at a world so badly flawed,

take a breath and turn the page

and place it in the hands of God

for He alone can bring the healing

of your anger and your cares,

and in His love will be revealing 

of the path up Dolorosa's stairs.

So journey on, and take each day

as it comes, and thus forgive

what pains your soul, and then you may

find a better way to live,

the way that Christ has shown to you,

for they know not what they do.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is VACANT.

Set up a sign, No Vacancy,

when anger comes to call,

and when it knocks ensure there be

no space for it at all.

Fill the rooms with happiness,

fill the lounge with love,

and every inch of spaciousness 

will call to God Above 

to bid Him join the happy crew,

all joyous in the dance,

for the Christ makes all things new 

and it takes just a glance

for the cheery heart to know

anger's not welcome, and now must go.

Ice cream helps.

Papist Funnies (Tell His Story)

 So, in the mid-fifties, Pope Pius XII decided that mass books needed an upgrade.

He hired Georges Braque to do the covers, but Braque was late on delivery, and thus...

The Cubist Missal Crisis.

Want more? No?

Three friends graduated from the seminary, and became Father Murphy, Father Owele, and Father Secola.

Years passed, and there were promotions. Monsignor Murphy, Monsignor Owele...but it was still Father Secola.

The hoops to the bishopric were passed, and wearing the red were Cardinal Murphy, Cardinal Owele...and...but it was still Father Secola.

Father Secola asked for an audience with the Holy Father, and it was granted.

"Eminence, my record is exemplary, I have served in every capacity ordained by the church...and I am still passed by."

The Vicar of Christ pursed his lips, sighed, and said, "I am so sorry, my son. It is an injustice, but please see that the Mother Church simply can't chance being led by Pope Secola."

Syl is always up for a bully laugh. And yes, I'm Catholic.

Peanut vs Angels...Guess Who Won?

It's been a rough couple of weeks, and God sent His angels to take me home.

Didn't quite work out the way He planned, I think.

Jesus is my Saviour,

but Peanut is my dog;

I need not this belabour,

and I admit no fog

in knowing what my heart must see

when Peanut chased angels away

on what had then been deemed to be

my glory, and my dying day,

for Peanut rose up with a roar,

my canine Galahad.

Great Danes ain't easy to ignore:

"Hands off, dude, that's My dad!"

And so I guess I'm gonna stay,

for Peanut really wants to play.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is ENGAGEMENT.

It might not always go well

engaging angels in a fight,

but who can know and who can tell

when it's wrong or right?

Jacob got another name

with his demanded blessing,

but his hip was not the same

after he'd been messing

with this strong and glowing being

through the night 'till dawn.

I wonder how angel was feeling,

and if he could go on

grappling with this stubborn guy

underneath the morning sky?

Didn't know I was going there, but here I am.

Sylvia will give her place to her litte brother for this week. And she'll even share some ice cream.

Yes, Peanut, like Barb, prefers Pepsi.

Forgiving God (Tell His Story)

 

How can I forgive You, God,

for the awful things I feel and see?

Is Your plan so badly flawed,

or does the problem lie with me,

that I don't understand the cost

You pay in grieving tears each day

for Paradise that Adam lost,

and for a world that's lost its way?

Do You have to stand aside

to let us daily make a choice

that we may, or maybe not, abide

in the hearing of Your voice

like sheep upon a grassy hill,

questioning their Shepherd's will?

Sylvia just hopes God's will always includes ice cream.

The Ugly

My New Year's Resolution was to be honest, and sometimes honest is ugly.

There is now nowhere to turn

where I might hide safe and escape

the fevers that do daily burn

the days that I have left, and shape 

me into something I detest,

a whining hypochondriac fool

who takes up worst to shame the best,

and ransoms hope for ridicule.

Lord, please set me on my feet

once more that I may yet remain 

something that is still complete,

and someone who can bear the pain

as I once did, and bear it still 

in honour of Your holy will.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is JOURNEY.

When I say that I am beat,

when I whine "This isn't fair!"

that's the thing that sets my feet

on the journey to despair.

When I dwell on what I've lost,

all the cool stuff I can't do,

it's thinking that bears a cost

that will poison and run through 

the life that yet to me remains,

toss the blessings to the floor,

make naught of the small gains,

and quite firmly shut the door 

in God's disappointed face

when He comes to offer grace.

Syl's worried. I'm not the Dad she knew.