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Category: Writing

Because let’s be real… its just me

Because let’s be real… its just me

I do not like looking up how-to articles on blogging and writing book reviews.  Google it, look it up on Pinterest – use whatever your social media you prefer – but however you look up information about blogging, you will find the same suggestions: post regularly, fill your post with pictures, and pick topics based on search engine optimization.

All scientifically proven suggestions that I recklessly do not heed.

I want to write a post when I have something to write about – which is sometimes every day and sometimes once a week.  I do not schedule my posts, I do not use a lot of pictures, and I certainly do not pick my post topics based on what will collect hits or visits (I’m not even sure I know what the difference is).

But there are reasons behind this, and perhaps that is why I feel like this blog really is the truest form of my writing – at least the writing I allow to be public.  Because I write posts that are in my head and on my heart.  These are the words that are pounding around inside me.  They might be emotional words that are weighing on me or a book that I read and really wanted to share or maybe just a informational post to help people who are curious.

There are few pictures because I do not like to post pictures I did not take.  It feels cheep, like a thief or a fraud to be using someone else’s work.  I want to post words I wrote and pictures I took – or at least asked someone to take for that moment.  I have used stock pictures before, but it never sits right.  There is no emotional attachment to these pixels.  I want something I saw, touched, smelled, witnessed.

So come sit down and stay awhile.  Read and comment, read and ghost away – I empathize with both reactions.  And enjoy!

Monday Ponderings: Glimpses Into Heaven

Monday Ponderings: Glimpses Into Heaven

The sky is always fascinating to me; the height, length, and depth of it.  The sky has as many moods as some men might claim a woman has: the simple, quiet beauty of a sunrise, the peaceful finality of a sunset, the tumultuous power of a storm, or the magic grayness of a snowfall.  But all of the changing moods of the sky, the one that most intrigues me is the sunny transition into rain: when the clouds roll in and begin to cover the sun, but not completely, and the wind begins to pick up.

We were headed eastward towards school and my focus was solely on the craziness of traffic here in the earthly realm.  But the childlike faith, embodied and safety harnessed into the backseat, was focused on something more beautiful, something more heavenly.  “Look, Miss Jessica!  We can see into heaven!”  As traffic crawled along and I lifted my eyes from the busyness of day to day hecticness I saw what we had all been missing, in the gloriousness of the painted sky.

Somehow as the clouds begin to thicken, they had left cracks that we could see through into the light beyond, and it felt like a peek into heaven.

And maybe it was.  For a moment, when my concentration was no longer on the earth and the momentary frustration of being delayed was forgotten, I was taken aback at the beauty of a eternal, heavenly perspective.  And for a moment that day, I felt like I really did get a peek into heaven.

What are the moments of your life that give you a pause?  What things give you a moment of peace?  What cracks into the clouds and gives you a glimpse into heaven?

Tribute to a Faithful Friend

Tribute to a Faithful Friend

I still step out the back door and head for the chicken house, expecting her to follow me.  I still walk across the back yard, expecting her to match me step for step.  Someone kicked a soccer ball across the yard today, and I waited for her to chase it.  But she’s not here anymore.

It has been said, time and time again, that a dog is man’s best friend, and perhaps, in a mysterious meeting of mere animal to eternal soul, that is true.  There is a understanding that dogs have with their human companions, inexplicable and, yet, understood by both sides.  In the hustle and bustle of daily routine, it is inexpressibly peaceful and wonderful to find a creature who’s greatest joy is to sit and stare at nothing, make no remarks about anything, and simply rest in your companionship.  They expect nothing, and happily give everything.

She and I had many conversations over the years, Most notably the times when I was broken and confused.  She never said anything, never tried to fix it.  She was just herself, and that is all I could ask for.  I came to depend on her, to take for her granted, and to assume that she would always be there.  She and I had a binding, verbal agreement – that she would go with me when I got married.  That she would live out the remainder of her life enjoying the solitude of being an only dog.  She gave me her all, down to the last moment.

She had her brushes with death before, but I had always whispered, “you can’t leave me, yet,” and she always rallied.  Perhaps I came to assume that I could merely will her existence indefinitely.  After all, I wasn’t married yet – we had an agreement.  And perhaps that was why she didn’t quit when she could have. Even deaf, mostly blind, unable to walk, and unable to eat, she would sleep outside our back door.  Faithful to the end.  The selfish tendencies of cats are perhaps most noticeable when they slip away in their latter years.  They many times save us the trouble of medical bills and difficult decisions, but all my cats have so far deprived me of the chance to say goodbye, around the lump in my throat, and to have closure.  Dogs are quite different.

But age is a terrible master, who always wins out.  Even against the most steadfast of faithful hearts.  And the day came when I knew I couldn’t ask her to hold out any longer.  Her eyes seemed to be begging for the end.  She wanted to know she was done, that she had obeyed and would be rewarded.  I knelt down and whispered, barely speaking through the tears.  “Good girl.  I’ll miss you so much.”  And I let her go.  My sweet dad took her and brought her back, burying her before I could see her.  My last memory would be her standing and looking at me, nothing else would mar that.

Life went on, but I still tear up sometimes.  When I expect to see her and I don’t.  Some parts of me feel like I failed my part of the agreement, part of me knows Kate loved me no matter where we were.  All I know for sure is, God gave us  gift when he made dogs.  And getting to have a faithful, loving dog is an amazing experience.