Long Overdue

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Hey guys! It’s been a little while since the last time I posted in here. Months on months, if I remember right. It’s taken some time to get settled in the new city and the new state and all that, but I’m here and surviving! Florida has had an entirely new set of circumstances and challenges, as well as blessings. Taking it day by day works wonders for any nerves or fears.

And here you go! My latest, humblest creation. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

He yawned, longing for the warmth and comfort of his sheets as he reached for bed. Pajamas on and bed beckoning, he checked his alarm for the morning as he plugged his phone in to charge. He rechecked his Facebook, and, after a few scrolls through the same timeline material that was always there, he took another look at his text messages, just on the sheer chance that his phone kept hidden one of his many fan mail messages. He smirked at this last notion, for the reality was that he would have to murder someone or win the lottery to be bombarded by his “fans.” Maybe that’s what he should do, murder someone. Or run off and get married to a woman he doesn’t know. Yeah, that’ll show them! What exactly it would show them besides his foolishness, he had no clue.

He rubbed his eyes and glanced at his phone’s clock. Sucking in a yawn and pushing it out with disgust at the realization of just how truly late it was, he yanked on the cord attached to the top of the blinds, sending them in a clattering sprint to the top of the window frame. Undoing the latch at its midpoint, he reached down and opened the window. He closed his eyes as he greeted the explosion of cool air into the room. Smiling, he kept his head close to the window a moment longer, savoring this late night treat. The cold, crisp air silently entered the room, stealing into his apartment like a ghost, unseen, unheard, but whose presence was as sure and as felt as the shirt on his back, of the bed pressed against his leg. The air, coming in and ventilating the overly stifling room, gently caressed his cheeks as it made its way in further. Tenderly, softly, and deftly, like a lover, the cold air stole his warmth. With this exchange of comfort and cold, the unseen welcome guest brought with it gifts, ones which he had been unprepared to take, but accepted all the more warmly once he realized what they were. In he breathed, slowly, deeply, like a person trying to immerse themselves in all the sights, sounds and smells of his home after not having visited for years.

Smoke, from a neighbors fire, was the strongest scent to him, and the favorite of those present by a wide margin. He smiled, remembering the multitude of times his senses had registered that smell, the numerous times he had been draped in its scent like an old, moth-eaten blanket. The memories flooded his thoughts, of all the camping trips he had been on, all the fun times at the lake, the bonding time with friends.

It is remarkable, the sheer power possessed in the tongues of vivacity called fire. It has the ability to shed light, with some fires being able to be seen from hundreds of miles away. It has the ability to be used to build, to create and to mold items, making an argument for its usefulness. However, we surely cannot mention its creating power without also mentioning its powers of destruction. Cities, houses, monuments, all laid to waste by that which helped to forge them. There is reason why the Christian God is referred to as “an all-consuming fire.” Take a look at the Judeo-Christian history for more proof and examples at how destructive fire can be. It can unite people around its warmth, unite them around the morsels using its energy to cook and become edible. It can unite them in a symbol of power, or divide them in a memory of the war and destruction brought to a group or another. Thus it is with no doubt or question as to the power of the memories evoked in that one captured moment, brought to life by that which helped him understand its gentle fragrance.

He walked over quietly to turn off the light, and then jumped into bed, curling up in his layers of blankets. As he leaned into his pillow, senses growing wary, thoughts becoming drunk with the euphoria of sleep, he smiled one last time. No, it was not in the anticipation of the next day’s busy schedule, or the blissful rest quickly approaching. No, he smiled because in that last moment as he pilled the blankets tighter, he was given one last parting gift before rushing off on his sleepy travels. He smiled, because, in that one moment, that which had entered and filled his room, silently unseen, softly pressed against him like sheets layering over him, like an ethereal blanket. In that moment, before his thoughts left him, the cold reached down and, like a lover, gently bent forward and kissed his head.

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A Season Winds Down and Another Begins

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As I was sitting in church tonight, I had a brief moment of interconnectedness with some of the things we like to talk about but generally don’t probe anything below the surface. We like to talk about communion and the Passover, and generally like to leave it at that. How often, though, do we actually probe our thoughts and turn them over before setting our rock back down? How often do we just sit and enjoy the landscape set before us without really seeking to overturn every rock and leaf and twig to understand just how connected everything really is?

Communion is the sharing of bread and wine, body and blood, at the Lord’s Altar. What makes this so beautiful is its connection with the Passover begun in the times of Moses and Israelite slavery. There, they celebrated the Lord’s passing over the frame of their house with the blood of the Lamb. Not only is it the blood of an actual lamb, but what is also represented here is the blood of Jesus Christ, our sacrificial Lamb. The body of the lamb is eaten, the same body which is eaten and represented and present in the bread we eat, which is the same bread as the unleavened bread from Passover as well as the manna from Heaven (Perhaps not accurate, but I still think a valid possibility/conclusion). The same blood that caused the Angel of Death to pass over is the same blood we drink in, with, and through the wine we drink. The same blood that caused the Nile to turn to blood in Moses day. The same waters that flooded the Earth, even now as his blood flows upon us and washes over us, letting the Angel of Death pass over us and granting us heaven through being clothed in the blood of the Lamb.

 

So those are just some of the thoughts I had while sitting in church, listening to Kevin talk. Connecting the dots is something my kindergarteners sometimes struggle with on paper, and the trend continues as adults in that we struggle with connecting the dots in life, in our relationships, in the things we hold most dear.

After that somewhat interesting thought, I present to you a piece I wrote over the longest bridge in the world, somewhat edited. Please enjoy, and let me know what thoughts you may have about anything in this article in the comments below!

 

A Triumphant Ending

It is an absolutely incredible sight, being blessed to watch the sunset each and everyday. How much moreso it is, however, to watch this extraordinarily ordinary sight over a body of water. This setting expounds just what a blessing it is, each and every day, and is marked by unsurpassable beauty. The Sun sets with bated anticipation, magnified and reflected by the very element that it seeks to pass through. As it begins to exit the heavens, those busy bodies rush around trying to accomplish their earth shattering plans, as if the Sun setting closes the opportunity to get laundry done or to clean the house. However, after the Sun passes below the distant, sparkling twilight of a horizon, another life exists. Those who revel in the festivities of the night emerge, shaking off the shackles of the day, burdensome and full of responsibility, rules and chores, only to enjoy that slim sliver of time before they must return to those same chains. However, this dichotomy just helps to accentuate this beauty of the passing of the Sun everyday. The very heavens themselves organize and stand at attention in their ranks of bated anticipation of the demise everyday, blazing their radiant colors in a farewell and tribute of that which sheds light on all. That star, which provides such clarity, energy, and light at the peak of its life each day slowly dwindles into a candle, which just a short whisper of time snuffs out. The heavens align themselves in celebration of such an event, heralding the time coming, but serving as a reminder of that which has come to pass. They keep this formation, even until after the star has passed, serving as a temporary reminder for things to come.

Anyone who can grasp even the basest of these aforementioned ideas would most wholeheartedly agree that the passing of the Sun each and every day is one of the most beautiful sights to behold. Furthermore, the fact that any has the precious ability to be able to see this sight every single day of their lives just reiterates and stresses the ever so simple beauty of this world.

In the Beginning

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So welcome, ladies and gents. This is an experiment I am working out just to kind of see how things go. I took a few writing courses in high school and did fairly well, and enjoyed it fairly well. So this should be fun! I’ll write posts about once every month, and please feel free to leave some feedback. Just a couple rules about the feedback:

  1. Be honest and open. I’d rather hear your unbridled thoughts than some smoke up my…..
  2. No arguing in any of the comments with other people. Present your thoughts to me, be frank about it, and let other people have their thoughts.
  3. Keep the language clean, and, if you have no other way to express yourself, at least **** it out.
  4. Join me monthly for a new post and spread the word if you like it, or, if it’s that bad, spread the word so more people can laugh at it. Either way, share!

Now as I was saying, I started doing some creative writing a few years ago and enjoyed it, but college and football and life pretty obviously hindered some of that process. So I’m starting it up again. And, since I’m bringing this back from it’s origins, I thought what better piece to get me and my blog started than a piece I wrote back then to some acclaim and entertainment. So with no further ado, I present to you “Dare to Dream.”

 

Dreams. Dreams are lies that adults give to youth so that they can escape the annoying ones supposedly doing their math homework. Society says to “Shoot for the moon!” For if you miss, you will surely land among the stars.

Pish-posh. If you miss the moon, you keep going into the endless blackness.If you’re lucky, you crash land on some alien planet, millions of miles away from home. Or, if you miss the moon and the planets, and their moons, perhaps some asteroid will sweetly put you out of your chilling misery. Finally, if you are unfortunate enough to miss all of the aforementioned, perhaps a star will take you in, burning you into space dust, using you as fuel to temporarily fan the flames of a solar flare. If you are so deridden and abandoned by the gods that you missed everything, surely either a black hole or a frozen space death awaits you. The black hole swallows you whole, erasing any trace of you from existence entirely, making it as if you never walked the face of the universe. On the other hand, a frozen space tomb, floating around as space trash, obtrudes an infinite hurting. To be able to see what they were, what they could have been, what they are now: there is no worse fate. There is nothing left but an empty shell, a shadow of what they used to be. So the REAL question is, do you dare to dream?