Not my Cup of Tea

 

I found a cup of tea

Porcelain and hot

Resting by its lonesome on a bench in the park

I looked around

Not a single soul

This is not my cup of tea

Is it yours?

In response to Sherry's prompt.

Terrible

 

Basil sat sternly, which was unusual for him. 

"Tell me about the end of the world," he said.

Her heart was as heavy as lead. 

She was lead. Her thoughts were lead.

"Was it my people who did it?" Basil asked.

"We are all the same people," she said. "We all did it."

There was a great war. It took the lives, all of them, in one way or another. 

Some went underground, some above it, 

some stayed where they were while their hearts melted into ice. 

There was nothing left. 

"Surely, there must have been something left," he protested. 

"I mean, here we are in this land of milk and honey."

He saw hope. Basil the Saint of long ago. 

He who prayed and stared down Ivan the Terrible.

"You know, he didn't think he was terrible," 

Basil said and made her laugh.

He continued, "So what happened?"

She explained the war and the aftermath. 

"It had been going on for a long time. Men had forgotten God. All, many, had looked so far away that they could not even remember there had been a Creator. The war was fought in His absence. Bombs did not do this. All of this destruction was the result of turning away from Him. All of it.

Basil nodded. 

"And what happened next?"

"We saw God again. We saw Him!"

Basil nodded. 

It was hard for her to comprehend, 

but somehow everything falling away had turned out to be good.

A Lopsided Fast

 

A few times I have fasted and known it was God's will. Some times it was me. I have fasted more in recent years. Not sure why, except that it seems right. 

Once:

The first time I ever fasted was in response to a need close to home.

A young woman I knew had given birth at her house. She was having a lot of complications afterwards, including an unexpected emotional and psychological response to (perhaps) the impact of it all. Her child was healthy. She was healthy, physically, but she needed healing all the same. Our body of believers took turns fasting and praying for a week. I was in the Sunday group. She came out of her fugue on Monday. Her healing continued for a long time. Her son is in his 30's by now.

Then:

I fasted on Yom Kippur. It was glorious. What can I say in words I can write on a page? I was called to it and welcomed when I arrived. Peace. That's what I can say in words. I did it wrong, though. It was my first time fasting on Yom Kippur and I did not know not to drink anything. So I skipped food but drank coffee like it was...coffee. God met me there, though. It was glorious. Peace. Funny, isn't it? A lopsided fast.

Now:

A few days ago I started what I thought would be a long fast. Mid-way through the Lord said to eat. He led me. He met me. It was glorious.

I think the point is to be led by God.

That's what I think.

Have you ever fasted?

Have you fasted and prayed at the same time? What happened next?

Making a Life

 

I get to ignore the world

I get to be here at home

and honor my husband

Keep my home and teach my children who are almost grown

I get to make bread

I get to think, to dream, to write

I get to be here at home

I get to ignore the world

What a blessing.

My hair is white, just a bit so far

Wisdom is pushing out the lying brown, slowly, quickly, soon

I will be older and wiser.

I am thankful. I am grateful.

from Psalm 68:6-

God sets the lonely in families...

Angry Rabbi

 

Rabbi Joshua was no rabbi. He was a comedian and an angry man. Yesterday he'd been just fine. This morning he was awoken by a great flood of anger with the realization that he had believed a lie. Not just a lie, but all of the lies, fully and without knowledge he'd been striding along in absolute untruth. He'd built his life on it, his friendships and family, his work and his child. He had given his child to the lie and he was enraged. 

Joshua was wise enough to know he'd been had. He turned to face the mirror and screamed at it, slammed the walls on either side with his angry fists and called the lie, the world, the fear and pain he felt, everything he could think to call it. Jesus was real. He'd been lied to about that. Isaiah 53 told him. Saved people told him. Why did they love him? It seemed like the sky had broken open and all of creation had called out to tell him the truth. 

"Why was I never told this?" He asked himself and wept. His tears were a fountain, a great raging torrent, and as he wept he was cleansed. 

Now he's mad. And he's free. When he speaks there will be fire on the Earth.

What's Next?

 

Spring. 

Spring is next!

Red Mug

 

Coffee? Dandelion tea? 

What's in your mug?

What's on your mind?

Yellow