The Me That Never Was

 

I'm not who I was before cancer.

Maybe that's what God intended.

I took my helmet from the shelf

to breathe some Harley air.

I rode off to find myself,

but I wasn't there.

Down the lonely open road

through mirrored halls of time;

at each bend reflections showed,

but none of them were mine.

There were ghosts from bygone days,

blank-eyed in shivered sleep,

but none to speak with, none to praise,

and surely none to keep

as I passed through another morn,

another death, to be reborn.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is SEASON.

'Tis the season for paprika,

fa la la la la, la la, la la!

Helps food to not taste like a sneaker

that's been too long on unwashed paw!

Try some curry powder too,

ting a ling a ling, to add some zing!

It may not be Cordon Bleu,

but it'll fix a nasty chicken wing!

Keep Tabasco on the table,

hot-ot-ot-ot-ot, ot ot, ot ot!

Gulp it down quick as you're able 

ever though taste buds would rather not,

but best to have a mouth that burns

than seeing how your meal returns.

Just under five minutes. Think I'll skip dinner.

Music from The Calling, with Our Lives

Sylvia doesn't care about finding herself. Finding ice cream's more important.

Independence Day

Life's a grave dug in the rain

without strength for a last goodbye.

Life's a gyre of blood and pain

and the unanswered question, Why?

Life is hard and life is cruel,

with talons that won't let you go,

but Momma didn't raise no fool

and deep within my heart I know

that life here is not everything,

that there's something lies ahead,

and so I will believe my King

Who sauntered back from being dead,

Who, gleeful, rolled the stone away,

and gave us Independence Day.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is STRIVE. I'll strive to do my best.

Strive ye not for glory,

for glory doth attend the grave.

Strive not to tell your story,

for the passing years won't save

your sins and graces from the dust

of a forgotten history.

Strive only now to place your trust

in the God that came to be

born Infant unto woman,

made Man of humble mien

in which Divine met human,

and in that meeting set the scene

by which at His own pain and cost,

restored to you is what you lost.

Three minutes forty-five seconds.

And what song is better here than Martina McBride's Independence Day

Sylvia celebrates her Independence Day, the day we found her, with ice cream. And for her, that day is every day.

The Lazarus Dilemma

 

We all know the Lazarus story... Jesus shows up four days after Lazarus' death, a day after the soul leaves the body, has the stone rolled away from the tomb entrance ('Oh, this isn't gonna be fun,' says Martha), shouts 'Lazarus, come forth!', and out hops Lazarus, still wrapped in his burial cloth.

We see it from outside the tomb.

But what was it like for Lazarus, to hear that joyous ringing voice and the stone grinding open to admit the bright sunlight?

Was he afraid that if he moved, got up, it would all have been some kind of cruel joke, and the darkness would close in again, made all the worse by hope seemingly offered, then dashed?

Did it seem too good to be true?

He had to make the choice to step out in faith (and blindly, since his head was wrapped).

Is Jesus calling you from your tomb? Is He standing there, calling you from sin and fear and despair? Is He calling you to another road, another world, one you can scarce believe exists?

Don't let 'too good to be true' hold you back.

Come forth!

She met Him on the road ahead,

and said, 'The news ain't great;

our brother Laz is buried, dead,

and why were You so late?

Three days past, his soul is gone

(and what, Lord, were you thinking?).

He is lost to us this dawn,

fed to worms and stinking.'

And Jesus wept, not for His mate,

but for Martha's sorrow,

for He knew that Laz's fate

was to be around tomorrow,

and so the drear and hungry earth

would lose its prey at 'Laz, come forth!'

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is CLARIFY.

Some might find me rather odd,

and might say I'm a nutter,

but I think you will be awed

by praise of clarified butter.

What would movie date night be

without popcorn so garnished?

And sports on your big-screen TV

will remain untarnished

with the clear and golden blessing

slathered to corn on the cob,

and I must right now be confessing

that I would gladly rob

the Pope (a Catholic I've become)

from his hot and buttered rum.

Three minutes and a bit. That's disconcerting.

Music from Soundgarden, with Live To Rise

Sylvia thinks it helped that Jesus was holding an ice cream cone.

Changes, And A Request

 First, the request... I will take over the hosting of the Tell His Story blog linkup in November. Jeanne Takenaka has done a stellar job for many years, and these are some awfully big shoes to try to fill.

I've never used Inlinkz in my blog, and so am testing what I understand about its functioning below, with a trial linkup. Could you use it (the button follows Sylvia's pictures) and link a favourite post of yours? I'd be deeply grateful.

This isn't something I expected to be doing; it requires a different approach, both in subject and style. I'll do my best.

And no, I WON'T be leaving Five Minute Friday.

Changes come and changes go,

and I must learn new ways to fly

as I shout Look Out Below!,

falling, falling through the sky.

But this is by Lord God ordained

(that, at least, is current rumour),

and it's His way to see me trained

to preserve my sense of humour,

but how now can I meet this test

of an erstwhile leadership?

Perhaps it should just do my best

and let God's words just through me rip

and trust that He will guide my pen

to the very last Amen.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is ANTICIPATE.

Anticipation, ain't it great

to see what things become?

And even as it makes you wait,

you still are having fun

looking ahead with eager eyes,

and wondering what shape it takes.

Will it come in some disguise,

and how high will be the stakes

in asking ever more from you,

more than you thought you could give?

Could it be, could this be true

that this is how we're meant to live

through our fleeting earthly story,

anticipating Heaven's glory?

Three minutes.

Will Heaven ask much from us? Will we be challenged?

I think, yes. What's your take?

Music from The Calling, with Our Lives

Sylvia thinks I'll do just fine.

You are invited to the 

 To  Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

In The Garden With Jesus

 

Cocoa likes to be carried. But as you can see in his expression, he doesn't like being photographed. Don't offer him a finger when you take his picture. It'll change how you play the piano.

And so...

Are you afraid?

Do you feel you're a lesser sort of Christian because your faith doesn't conquer your fear?

Welcome to Jesus' world.

He didn't agonize in the Garden of Gethsemane because He was mildly nonplussed at the really bad weekend coming up.

He didn't ask His mates to stay awake with Him because He thought they got too much sleep anyway.

He didn't sweat blood (and this phenomenon is real) because He found the upcoming interviews with Pilate and Herod a bore.

He was flat-out terrified, and that's why He was born into mortal form, that He could share our fears...and not have a snap-of-the-fingers answer that You Just Gotta Believe.

His flesh, uniquely part of Him, shrank from pain and death.

He was God become flesh, and as the fabric quailed, so did the heart.

So put aside the guilt and shame over you fears.

You're not alone.

It's okay to be afraid

in a lonely misery;

those cards were given, to be played

by Jesus in Gethsemane.

Now, perfect faith casteth out fear,

the TV preachers say it's true,

but what they do not make clear

is that it don't apply to you,

'cause you are mortal, and not God,

and will be 'till the day you die...

but what of Jesus, was He flawed

with that bleak despairing cry?

No, He lived it so we'd understand

that He was bridge from God to man.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is ATTEMPT. Let's give it a try.

I can attempt it all I want,

saying I ain't scared,

but it is a useless vaunt

that in vain I've aired,

for the truth does not lie there,

and in boldface, I have lied,

'cause when reailty does tear

the veil, you'll see I'm terrified

of the fell things yet to be,

of the miles I've yet to travel,

of the dreadful things to see

as cancer makes my days unravel,

but I need not wail, or weep, or groan,

for on this road, I'm not alone.

Four minutes. Adequate attempt.

Music from Jesus Christ Superstar, with Yvonne Elliman singing Everything's All Right

Sylvia's only fear is that McDonald's will stop serving ice cream.

On Not Getting Stuck

I saw a restaurant scene in a movie today, and had a fleeting sorrow that I can't do that anymore.

And this is very wrong...the thought, not the situation.

It's a slap against the face of God. He has brought blessings aplenty in spite of the cancer (hardest week yet), and to moan about what's lost to me is like a disappointed child pouting on Christmas morning, surrounded by piles of toys, because he didn't get a pony.

Christ didn't take on and pay my debt of sin for that. He wore my shameful squalid garments to save my soul.

Not so I could go to Outback again.

They say it must be galling

(and that I should admit it true)

that I get quite depressed recalling

the things I can no longer do,

and what I can no longer be,

no longer give, not longer get,

and live earthly eternity

in the dungeon of regret.

Yes, my days are sore constrained,

and some failures can't be remedied 

but with much lost much is retained,

and my Saviour didn't bleed

that I'd put His pain upon the shelf

to feel so sorry for myself.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is COPY.

Please don't try this stuff at home,

please don't try to copy me.

Do as Romans when in Rome,

but please, friend hear my simple plea

to not face cancer without aid,

no docs, nor 'cancer group' support.

It's the worst game to be played

when in pride you come up short

and face the things that might have been,

the chance to give, and take help given.

Remember hubris is a sin,

and not a way you should be livin',

but when the whole thing's said and done,

on my own, I did have fun.

Three minutes, and truth in the dichotomy.

Music from U2, with Stuck In A Moment

Sylvia doesn't regret, but she sure can pile on the guilt if ice cream isn't shared.

Leadership

Someone, somewhere, is looking to you for courage, hope, and inspiration.

Be the miracle.

Lead even when you'd rather not,

lead even when the word sounds hollow,

lead even when you haven't got

a single soul that deigns to follow.

Lead as though you've got a plan,

lead 'gainst body's protestation,

lead because you understand

that there must be a destination

on the other side of night,

past the roaring raging gale,

and that if you survive you might

just be equipped to tell the tale

of the battle's warp and weft

for those who walk footprints you left.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is OPINION. Well, in MY view...

They say that I am arrogant,

but that's unfair, and so untrue,

it's just that there's no argument

that holds against my point of view,

for I am highly educated

in every manly art and game,

and it's often been suggested

that I should enjoy wider fame,

but I am just a humble bloke,

and I once (really!) did err

when I one time I went and spoke

and thus a doubt did find me there,

that I truly thought me quite

in the wrong...but I was right.

Three minutes. Boy, that says something.

Here's Harry Belafonte's calypso take on a kind of leadership 

Sylva's always willing to lead or follow, as long as ice cream awaits.