Manifold Blessings: A Christian Fable

Manifold Blessings
A Christian Fable

...And they were all seated around the Throne. Can I have a witness? The four and twenty elders silently bade. Johnnie dared to stand. He had a testimony; he had a story to tell. As he found his feet under himself he realized that they were strong and that he was standing firm.
"The Lord has been good to me," Johnnie began. The arms of the fellow testifiers automatically rose in confirmation, as He had been good to them all...
Time reached back and found Johnnie standing in church. It was where he belonged. He was in his element. He stood boldly and raised up a determined hand. “Pastor, I have a word.”
Pastor never denied Johnnie the opportunity to speak. Sometimes it was challenging for the Pastor, as all could see though, as when Johnnie got to sharing about the goodness of God, he didn’t want to stop.
“I was taken up in a vision,” he would sometimes relay. Then he would go on to share what wonderful things the Lord had shown him. Or sometimes it would be, “The devil tried to take me out, but the Lord showed me that it wasn’t my time yet, and I’m not going anywhere!” It didn’t matter what Johnnie shared; it was going to be good! Johnnie was truly a man after God’s own heart.
Jan stood by Johnnie. Johnnie was her precious gift from the Lord. Johnnie was her treasure. Johnnie got really ill, and Jan loved him all the more. She gave up everything to be by his side. Johnnie never complained. Peace wrapped Johnnie up in its manifold blessings on Earth, and now peace flowed like a river, as Johnnie was a testament of the grace and the goodness of God in Heaven. There was no rush. There was no anxious shifting in seats, after-all, they had all the time that Eternity had to offer.
Martha listened to Johnnie’s account of how very loving and caring his sweet little Jan was, and was reminded of her own Gene. Gene of her youth. Gene even unto her old age. Gene who loved her and cared for her. Gene who gave of himself so selflessly for her. Gene, her gift from God. Gene, her treasure.
Martha wasn’t as quick to stand as Johnnie had been, but it was no wonder. She wasn’t shy to share what all the Lord had done for her, but to stand? She hadn’t been able to for so long now. She didn’t know if she could. All eyes were on her as it was her heart that cried the loudest to be heard. “You may stand in MY Holy Presence” a soft rumble drove her to her feet.
Martha stood amazed and was silent for the longest while. It felt so funny to have the weight on her tender feet. Before speaking Martha gently raised her arms in praise and adoration and turned herself around in a slow and fanciful twirl. She felt like a little girl. Free, she was finally free! Her crippled body had kept her down for so long, and now at long last, she was free!
The testimonies went on and on and none tired of hearing and sharing the goodness of God. The four and twenty elders knew how to throw a party! “Worthy is the Lamb” was the chorus that echoed before, during, and after all of the heartfelt testimonies of the redeemed souls, bought by the blood of the Lamb, about the immeasurable grace of God.
“Boy, and I thought that church was good!” Johnnie commented to Martha as they strolled together on the streets of gold. They were old friends from the time before their transformation and they were reminiscing.
“I’ll say! If only all could know the sights that we have seen!”
“And don’t forget how wonderful the presence of the living God is!” Johnnie exclaimed. He was just like a little boy; his heart was so full of joy.
“I never knew it would be like this,” Martha confessed. Johnnie listened intently. “Oh, sure, I believed in Heaven, but not like this. I’m overwhelmed by His goodness.”
“And saved by His grace.” Johnnie solemnly agreed. There was an awe in him that held him captivated. He could never have imagined that he would be so very fulfilled and content. Oh, sure, he was happy on Earth with Jan. She had doted over him and had always loved him dearly, but this was different. This was way different. Serenity was in every instance, in every sight, in every sound. Comfort embraced him, all around.
With Martha being the woman, she was the intuitive one. She looked around, concerned that her concern would be detected. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her less than serene thoughts. She leaned over to Johnnie and almost whispered, “They are so unhappy.”
No one had to tell Johnnie who ‘they’ were. How many nights had he considered the state of Jan? Too many to number. He knew that she had loved him, but he had never known how very much. As time went by and Jan cried and cried Johnnie had a longing to comfort her that reached beyond immortal bounds. “Can’t you do something about it?” He had petitioned the Lord out of desperation at her desolation. “My son, you need only know that I care. I have a path for Jan, and I will show her clearly.”
Johnnie could only watch and wait to see what that path was to be. Being part of the great cloud of witnesses that would be coming with the Lord kept Johnnie very busy, but never too busy to lift up his sweetheart and her plight to the Lord. “Touch my Jan Lord, and please Lord, heal her broken heart.” Even though he had been promoted when he left his earthly life to be a General in the Lord’s Army, still, Johnnie always had time for his darling.
“They are so all alone.” Martha continued.
Johnnie patted a little boy gently on his back as he skipped by, determined to ‘catch a butterfly’, and looked intently at Martha. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”
“With all of my heart. He’s a good man.”
“He is a good man,” Johnnie agreed. He knew for a fact that what Martha had said was true.
“Why should two such terribly nice people have to be alone?” Martha just couldn’t understand. Both who had dedicated all of their lives to another were now both alone, and lonely.
“She would never consider another.” Johnnie stated frankly. He knew that he owned Jan’s heart. Every inch that wasn’t filled with Jesus had his name all over it.
“Gene only knows me.” Martha stated with a gleam of pride in her eyes. So many years, and Gene had been faithful only to her. He stood so strong by her side, she who was crippled, she who was weak. He would not look for another.
“There’s just no way.” Johnnie heard himself say. The instant he spoke it was the instant that the Lord joined the two in their secret surmising.
“All things are possible.” The Great I AM tenderly declared. “If only you believe. I AM here, and I AM able.”
“But how?” Martha dared to question, as Johnnie stood in quiet wonder.
“I will make a way where there is no way. I will make the crooked places straight. I will plant a seed of humor, and I will water it with wit. I will take understanding and wrap it around the sorrow and therewith form a bond that will bloom graciously into love.”
“They will love again?” Martha smiled at the thought. “Really? Love again?”
“They will love like they’ve never known.” The gracious loving Father of love professed to his two incredulous children. “They will love each other.”
“Each other?” Martha worded the strange possibility. She could never have imagined! Each other!
“Jan and Gene?” Johnnie voiced, testing how it felt to him. The thought was strange, but so soothing. “Jan and Gene.” He stated again, only to feel even more drawn into the possibility.
“You could do that?” Martha asked, more than willing that Gene would have even half of the rest to his soul that she was experiencing in the ever-caring presence of God. “You could do that for them?”
“I can, and I will.” The voice of infinite wisdom relayed. “I take it you approve?”
“Father, you know everything.” Johnnie humbly replied. “My soul You know right well.”
“And you my child?” The eyes of the Lord now rested intently upon Martha. His beloved Martha. His faithful servant, His precious child.
“As You will,” Martha peacefully surrendered to the Lord’s bidding. “How could I not trust Your judgment? You’ve always taken such good care of me. I want nothing but Your very best for Gene. I love Jan, she was a good friend to me, and I know that she cared about me. I am glad that Gene will love Jan also.”
“It is finished.” The Lord stated and even as He did so, a flitter of hope landed on Jan’s hurting heart as she smiled at a man she barely knew, but was tickled to know better, he was so funny and witty and bright.
And Jan and Gene stood heart to heart, as they vowed their love, at their blessed new start. The wedding of Jan was the wedding of Gene and the joy of the whole earth. Heaven rejoiced along with them as Johnnie and Martha prepared their own hearts to partake in another great gathering around the merciful throne room of God.

Audrey Semprun
Joyful Noiz Ministries
12/5/2005
Based on a true story. Jan and Gene were married this past Saturday. Johnnie was my buddy, and Martha was my friend. Jan is my best friend, and now I too look forward to getting to know Gene better.

My First E-Book is now Available!

EVEN IN SILENCE, THE JOURNEY OF A LADY PREACHER is my first E-Book. I am actually executing my publishing plan! But not without a step or two backwards first... It was easier to create my Rogue Rose blog site than it is to grasp the reality of letting go of a hard fought for dream of having my work published by someone in the 'accepted' publishing industry. Oh, how determined I was when I was creating that blog! "... not looking back ..." I best remember that a double minded man is unstable in all of his ways!!!

And a good report! I have my first comtestants for my First Annual Rogue Bud Writing Competition! Except for one of them sent me a query instead of an essay telling me why I should publish their work... I've been getting good traffic at my blog, but not a whole lot of entries!!! Go figure! I'm a nice lady, and I'll do a good job for whoever ends up winning the competition!

The E-Book is in PDF format. I'm going to check out Kindle and see if it supports it... I know that I-Pad has its own format, but I've chose not to go through the changes of learning how to do the formatting. From what I've read I want to just keep it simple. Maybe down the road I can experiment, but not now. First I have to continue to educate myself about E-Books and protecting my copy rights... I guess if someone wants to run off with this memoir then it's pretty much a 'free' target. I'll know a whole lot more before I even consider releasing my novels. I have to find out about the ISBN numbers and all of that 'legal' stuff that I have to do before I can actually distribute my books... Ah, so much to do, and so little time (or energy) to do it!!!

Anyway, I'm one step closer to actually carrying out my massive marketing plan! I hope that my writing contest is a good distraction, and while I'm at it, I hope that it brings some awareness of my writing and publishing worthiness and capabilities!!!

After I told my daughter that I've gone rogue she asked a very pointed question: "Where's the money going to come from?" "Oh, yeah," I told her... "That part..."

Expect a Miracle!

See this puppy? He was born on a sidewalk and when his owner found him he was still and lifeless. She didn't give up on him: She willed the little guy back to life! And then she got to enjoy him running around under her feet for about three months. He was nice and strong and happy. Then he got sick and he died. It was a sad day, but the joy that he brought in his short little life was immeasurable. He was a miracle that will never be forgotten. He was so cute. In another picture that I took I held him in the palm of my hand; so much like how the Lord holds us in the palm of His hand... Except for my hand is small and my strength finite. Unlike the Lord's hand which is my strong tower, and His strength infinite!!!

Knowing that the Lord holds me in His hand gives me a strength that runs eternal. Even when failures and disappointments come, I know that the Lord watches over me. In Isaiah it states that He has graven me in the palms of His hands, and that my walls are continually before Him. In that I have hope amongst the heartaches and the pain that this life sometimes throws at me.

I saw that little building again in my travels. The one that I spoke of in my last post. The one that looked like it might be a church. It is a Church! I pulled up in front of it and looked in the window. I counted twelve chairs. And there was a little plaque in the window. It said, "Expect a Miracle!" What a testimony! There was a pastor's name and a time for a Sunday morning service and even a time for a Wednesday night service! Someone has a vision and they aren't letting misfortune or inopportunity stop them! They are pressing on, in spite of the storm!!!

And that's exactly what I intend on doing! I'm going to press on with my writing and I'm going to continue on in the direction that I have found myself. It's not a direction that I would have chosen, or even believed that I would ever seriously go, but here I am, and here I go!

Today on Joel Osteen he was saying how the Lord gives us just enough grace for a day. Just like the manna in the wilderness, he went on to say. Just enough for a day... And for today I am believing that the Lord has His hand on my ministry and that He will direct my every step.

I'm sponsoring a writing contest that may never take off. I've yet to see one entry. I'll keep promoting it and I'll see what happens. The worst case scenario is that I won't have to go through all of the trouble that it takes to get a manuscript into book form. It's not an easy process, nor does it come without mega effort and time consumption! I'm willing to invest the time, but not the concern!!! I'd like to follow through with it for my co-worker Joel, but if it doesn't happen it's not because I wasn't willing or that I didn't try!

I'll just leave it in the Lord's hands and believe for the grace to get through one more day. One more day of obscurity. One more day of my double life. I jokingly state that my work is my 'real' life, and that my writing is my 'secret' life. And sometimes these days my secret life has been spilling over into my real life... But in all reality, it's really my secret life that is my real life. I have a call on my life to share the goodness of the Lord. I have a call to proclaim our liberty in Christ. I have a call to minister to the broken hearted and to bring hope to the hopeless. I have a call to take His Word to all the world... I also have a call to believe. To believe in His perfect timing. To believe in His keeping power. To believe in His grace.

Dark Sky Bird

Just seeing this picture reminds me of earlier today and evokes raw emotion, but not nearly so raw as this afternoon. I was driving through a mild, but very active, snow storm. I was safe and I was warm.

I saw a bird in the dark and snowy sky. A dark bird. He was flying with all of his might against the wind. Like that old song, Running against the wind... But I'm older now. And that bird. He was so alone. Surely so cold. So desperate. He was fighting with everything within him to fly in that cold dark sky. What compelled him? Where was his family? I've never felt such desolation for a creature as I did for that solitary bird. All I could think was how badly I wanted him not to be so cold, so beat up, so all alone. From what I had witnessed I had to wonder if what he was fighting for was his very life. As he pressed himself forward, I could see that it was all that he could do to gain any ground at all. Don't birds hide in trees in foul weather? Yes, I know they do.

And then up the road a couple of miles the wind subsided. The snow stopped. The sky was clear again. And I wondered if that bird had found any relief from the elements, or was he still in the midst of his struggles?

And then on my way back down that same highway I saw this old rickety building. Not unlike an old fashioned school house; the kind that you see sitting out on any given prarie, abandoned with time and age. And there was a small sign that caught my eye as I traved on down the road which read, Lutheran Church.

Can you imagine the struggle of a 'church' that is the size of an old fashioned one room school house? A Church? How many could possibly be in the Congregation? What kind of finances could possibly be generated? Surely there would be no room for prosperity there. Surely there would be no room for growth either.

And so I witness the struggles as I effortlessly drive down the highway. In doing so I have to contemplate the trials that cross my own path. The little things that provoke me. The petty things that make me cross. The perplexing things that leave me frustrated.

Was there a remedy for the wind-crossed bird? Did he find a place of sanctuary? Is there really a church in that tiny little building? Will they one day break out the walls with their building fund and reach a respectable fifty? Will I be still and know that God is God? Will I find my own sanctuary?

This Road I Travel

When as oft
This road I travel
Comes to highways
Byways far -
Off the beaten path
Treading upon places still tender
It does me well to remember
I've miles to go
Before I sleep.

Surely I borrowed a line or two. Not really original. Not special. Not anything really. Just serving a purpose, but not even sure what.

Today was not so victorious. Yesterday a time to rest. Now the day before, that was memorable. I was finally able to pen my last short story for ON A RAMBLE. I can now organize it and bring it to print, without permission or apologies... This one's mine. I have a definite marketing plan and I look forward to seeing what I can do. This book is mostly fun. I've stretched my imagination and I'm happy with where that imagination has taken me. I wrote a forward for the book today. It's called, Sorting Socks. It was cathartic. Don't know if I'll use it. Could cause legal concerns that I'll have to weigh. Makes me tired to think that I could end up in court, but it has happened. Not righteously mind you, but happened just the same. No matter. More weighty things to share. Ah, what the hey? Who's reading this blog anyway? Maybe it won't make it into the book, but here's for giggles.

"Sorting Socks"

Writing upon writing. Layer upon layer.

To whom is given much, much is required.

So I write Christian novels; issue-based, Christian novels.

But what do I do when faced with real issues in my own life?

What do I do when I'm 'assaulted' week after week by someone who is blatantly threatening my relationship with my own husband? What do I do when that same entity turns the whole situation back on me - to save her own reputation and I'm politely thrown out of church?

And how, pray tell, can a nice Christian woman be politely thrown out of church?

Enough said. Need I say more? Dis-owning my own hurt, my own emotions, my own feelings was my only recourse.

"Forgiveness," my new Pastor says, you know the one; the one that I don't really know, the one that doesn't know me - Like the other - in a way, 'cause if he knew me - I mean the real me - then he'd still be my Pastor... "Forgiveness comes when you stop carrying around and sharing all that pain; that baggage. No one wants to hear about it."

No one wants to hear about it. So I write. In circles. Watching the blood and the gore innocently circling the drain and washing away. Ah, the grace of metaphor.

2/5/10
Anonymous (:

This short story will not end the book, but it was a goal that I had set for myself as a pre-requisite to completing the book. I guess because I just had to make it to the End - to the Victory - To the Prize!!! It speaks for itself.


"I Won!"


I handed off the baton today. I hadn’t even seen it coming! I have been running this race for so long now. I never dreamed that I had run my race – I had finished my course!

I handed over my pregnant pack of papers – no great relief there! How many sets of the same thing were in that stack? At least two – in many instances three… But that wasn’t the worst of it. Those papers meant something to me. They were the medical records and Social Security records of a lifetime – not my lifetime – but my daughter’s. In them was the first award letter. Yes, my daughter really was disabled.

But really, did I need an award letter to tell me that? Hadn’t the first six years of her life taught me that she was different? But so much more than different.

I would never have even considered applying for Social Security for a child. I had never heard of such a thing. And then even after applying I never really expected anything to come of it – in fact – nothing did – claim denied. I moved on. Then came the letter. New law. Re-apply the letter advised. Having nothing to lose, I did. Won the case. Pockets full of back pay – a new start – help with raising the children!

Cruised along, raising the girl as best as I knew how. Received a new letter. My daughter was officially no longer disabled! Somebody had overturned that new law… Funny – or not so – she was still the same little girl – you know the one – the one that I had toted from doctor to doctor for as long as I could remember. I’m afraid I had to beg their pardon. No longer disabled? Nothing had changed – except for the issues that we dealt with when she was just a little girl grew with her…

“You can’t win a Social Security case,” I was told one person after the other. “You just do your part, and I’ll do mine.” And somehow I coaxed person after person for that letter, that report, that next vital piece of paper. I put together all of my ‘evidence’ and submitted. Won the case!

The next time that Social Security determined that my daughter was no longer disabled I wasn’t able to intercede for her. I had to let it go – it was out of my hands.

Finally the day came where I was allowed to once again take the baton and run the race that I had begun so long ago – that race I was talking about – the one that I have completed.

Applied. Denied. Appealed. Not quite denied – delayed. Denied. Appealed.

Did I say sought council? Out the gate couldn’t get council. Middle of appeal – couldn’t get council.

When I received the letter from the Appeals Council, stating that the Judge had to look at the case again I was able to secure council!

The assistant to my daughter’s new Attorney was sure to tell her how amazing it was that her Mom has gotten a review of her case. Me – Mom – I’m feeling like the ladies’ being nice to me. But then when the lawyer himself complimented me on a job well done I was pleasantly surprised.

But I wasn’t done. There were stacks of papers sitting there – needing addressed. There were the medical forms that needed signed – not the legal assistant’s forms – which were important too – but the ones I brought… And what about waiting for at least a couple of weeks for the request so they’ll be more complete?

And then the most important detail – the Judge had made his ruling based on the report of what we have come to call, “The fifteen-minute man.”

That’s when it happened. It was so unexpected. So welcome.

“Can’t we get a copy of the court transcript?” I asked. Desperate to get the point across.

“We won’t be able to get that. It won’t happen. It’s over. You won.”

A reality check.

I won?

Wow!

The Judge has been ordered back to court. And that baton? It’s in skilled hands now.

Audrey Semprun
Joyful Noiz Ministries
©
02/03/10

Stop, Drop, and Roll

  So, how did Molly end up at my new job? In a way it was good – well – kind of. A relief is more like it! That new job – an office job no less – sure can be a challenge! I was thinking that those old dirty days were behind me. Boy, was I wrong!
It started out okay enough. Had to exchange an oxygen concentrator. And after the change-out up over the barn I should have been in ‘heads up’ mode. But I wasn’t. At least the barn lady was changing companies and I didn’t have to tote off her old equipment. Not that setting her up was all that fun though! Good thing it wasn’t a rainy day!
I get to the property where the barn lady hangs out and she met me. “My place is back here,” she tells me as I lift up the twenty-five to thirty pound concentrator out of the van, set it down briefly, and then heft the thing from the pavement across the dirt patch onto a slab of cement. I had to be sure not to get the thing’s wheels all gummed up in the dirt.
The two ‘junk yard’ dogs were barking all crazy at me and I’m sure they would have eaten me if they had gotten loose! I tried to ignore them as I stared at the stairs – a full flight up no less! Right up and over the barn! And she tells me, “Just take them a few at a time.” A few at a time! Was she out of her mind? There’s no way that I could actually carry that big and bulky box up the stairs! And what stairs they were! Wooden steps with a sturdy, but thin, rail. I was surprised that they were firm and secure as I tackled the first step with a thump. I stepped up behind the box and that’s how I did it. Thump, bump, step; thump, bump, step until I got to the landing. It was small, but also secure and I was glad. I left the oxygen machine on the small porch and headed back down the stairs for the bottles and cart and paperwork – always the paperwork! I remember how long it used to take me to get through all of the red tape! It still takes a lot of time, just not quite so much…
The closest dog sniffs the big metal bottle as I pass him by on my way back up the stairs. He’s not happy, but at that point neither was I! I’m not much for all of that physical exertion! After-all, hadn’t I finally gotten to that coveted place of being ‘office material’? And with a title no less! Patient Care Coordinator! Ain’t that a hoot? Told my supervisor that it’d look good on a Resume. She just looked at me funny. Go figure! Started out as Customer Service Representative, but that job went away. In this economy I’m fortunate to have been offered a different position. I hate it when I’m not feeling appreciative, but I hate it when I’m feeling like a pack mule too!
But the worst of it? It was having to pass through this full door-sized screen – to keep the horse flies out, I guess. That thing was just hanging there all tattered and scraggly and when I went through it with my hands pre-occupied with carrying this concentrator (that I was more than done with) over the threshold, the creepy thing brushed against my head and I could feel it disheveling my hair! I hate to have my hair messed up! The worst I can ever remember was at Disneyland. I was watching – just watching – mind you – the kids on a ride when this huge spray – no not spray – this fire-hose like stream of water came out from no where and not only trashed my hair, but bothered my ear pretty good too… Talk about Grumpy! But that was after my sister had made me aware of my age! But that’s a totally different story, and even I can’t tolerate another rabbit trail with the one that I’m on!
Anyway, a person would think that I’d learn that when picking up an old concentrator I can be sure that they missed the part of the instruct that told them to clean the filters on the sides of the equipment at least once every couple of weeks! And after bumping one over a crack in the sidewalk only to find myself being ‘attacked’ by human dust gone wild I’d know how ‘volatile’ those nasty things can be!
I showed up for the exchange but was stopped cold at the front door as I was assaulted by the stench of cigarette smoke. And yes, I am a recovering cigarette addict! I’m in a constant state of recovery with no relapse in sight as just the smell of smoke closes my vocals… So I tell the guy, “I hope you’re not smoking in the same room as the oxygen!” And again before I left, “Don’t be smoking with that oxygen around – you’ll burn your face up.”
“Yeah,” he says, “I already done that once – I have sleep apnea.” Go figure!
And that concentrator! Dust waste galore!
The next day in the work room there’s this funky stink. A concentrator is running. It’s getting prepped for cleaning/analyzing/and redistribution.
There was no doubt in my mind that this here was going to be a dirty deed – that’s when I reckon that Molly took over. She is learning – that girl – about self-preservation! She gets a box of them there face-safety-masks and grabs one out. Puts it on her face – stretches the bands around her head and wonders if she looks like a space-cadet, or what. She bends down and grabs that filthy – never been changed – filter and her eyes go all fuzzy. You know, like when your face mask gets steamed up when you’re swimming – and she wonders what life will be like if that goes on – eyeballs steaming up and all!
Well, me, I discovered that she had my glasses on! Whew! Good thing!
And the Stop, Drop, and Roll? That’s what I, we, me, has to do when I’m, we’re, Molly-me, are on call. Stop what we’re doing. Drop everything. Roll on down the road! What a job!
And just to be sure that I’m for real get this one… Here I am at the hospital tonight and I’m delivering a cane. A simple cane. How hard can that be? Well, this cane is wrapped in this way over-sized plastic bag and I can’t for the life of me get the cane out! The client is off getting an x-ray and the husband is sitting there as I struggle with the bag and the captured cane. I must have looked like an idiot and I did what any normal, red-blooded American would do! I blamed it on my alter-ego! Out of my mouth – honest – I says, “I guess Molly showed up for this one.”
The guy just looks at me. I tried to clean it up by saying innocently enough, “I’m Audrey. Molly is my alter-ego.”
And the guy says as equally innocent and unobtrusive, “Yeah, just don’t let the doctor hear you say that.”
I just laughed and didn’t bother trying to explain.

Unwrapping the Gift of Metaphor

  It’s not always convenient to just say what you are thinking, nor is it prudent, and yet sometimes things just need to be said, and not simply for the saying of the thing, but for the release of the thought or opinion or emotion.

That’s where the use of the imagination comes in like a flood – a water-spout of ideas reaching out and in and through all of the well-structured barriers of protocol and propriety, tearing down walls and overflowing the senses.

Pick up your pen and let down your defenses and let creativity carry you over the edge and into new realms of possibility.

My imagination and I, we have been buddies for as long as I can remember. I met her first as a small child. We’d play together for hours on end. My mother knew her as my imaginary friend. I just knew her as Cathy.

It wasn’t a form of madness, I was just thinking – always thinking. I still think – but mostly it’s not the same as before – before I understood that I couldn’t hurt a tree’s feelings – But have I really come that far? It still hurts me to pluck a leaf from a tree, or to trample a flower underfoot. Something inside of me still believes that they can feel…

And maybe that’s the root of boundless possibilities, because if a person can credit the right of each entity as a viable existence then the vastness of the Universe becomes explore-able, and no matter how great or how small, reachable.

The art of telling a good story centers upon the writer’s willingness to get in the trenches, and it doesn’t stop with getting your hands dirty. You have to be willing to sink deep into the mire with the idea and search it out. You’ve got to dig deeper than you can see, and be willing to take chances. Who knows what might be down in that great abyss of the unexplored, the unknown?

And what if you don’t like what you find there? Are you willing to go the distance, to run that extra mile? Are you willing to have your heart filleted and served on a platter when your ideas aren’t embraced?

I have been crafting a book for the past couple of years, exploring the different avenues that have wandered in and out of my creative highway which has led me to this detour, this pleasant by-way. In my book, “ON A RAMBLE, On a Bright and Sunny Day: Mostly True Stories: Including, Creepy, Creepy, Spider” I have stepped outside of the box, I have let my mind have a picnic, and I have let my creative juices flow. I’ve been open to the ridiculous, and I have enjoyed myself thoroughly. But mostly what I have done is I have discovered creative freedom. I’ve embraced the improbable and found myself wed to the impossible.

I offer three stories. Woven tightly within them a reality brews like a storm, with a resolution as gentle as a fresh and healing rain.



“GIT!”

“If that dog keeps sniffing around my front door I’m going to scratch his eyes out!”

“Spuds! That is so not nice!”

Now what possessed my cat to talk – I do not know, but something must be bothering him. He use to be normal – well – somewhat – kind of – okay – not normal – but at least he wasn’t out and out gabbing at me!

Oh, all right! No, I’m not hearing voices – but I tell you – if that cat could talk he sure would be! He’s been hissing all around the house and bearing his sharp little claws like there’s no tomorrow.

And I’m telling you right now, it’s not my fault! I didn’t move that hussy and her mutt into the apartment across the way! Oh sure, there’s a huge patio between us, but does that scrawny little dog know that? Apparently not! She and all of her fleas are constantly underfoot and in my space. Rubbing herself up against me like I care. And then I have to face the wrath of Spuds – ‘cause you know – he ain’t no dummy. He can see when a predator is trying to squeeze into his space.

We got boundaries you know! Places another animal should not go. Spuds smells that ‘may as well be a stray’ on me and he’s through the roof! And I have to live with him!

Just like that guy over at the market. I offered to shake his hand and he may as well have grabbed me the way that he got right in my space and practically pulled me into him – well – not exactly into him – ‘cause you know – I’m a big girl. I stiff-armed him and kept him well at full arm’s length!

“I don’t shake hands,” he tells me. “I give hugs.”

Is that right? I’m thinking – but not real cottony. No, no warm fuzzies going on at all. And I’ll not be offering a hand shake to him again – ever! No, all that man will get from me is a side-ways glance and a brisk step in the other direction!

I loved Psychology in school. I can see it now, ‘Molly Picket, Doctor of Psychology!’ ‘Cause I get it! We people, and cats too, have this little circle. It’s our comfort zone. And no, I’m not talking about inappropriate touchy feely; but that most certainly is included! I’m talking about our ‘safe space’ – that space that surrounds our whole being that is ours alone – only to be crossed into by ‘invitation only’!

When you go marching around unwelcome and uninvited you are crunching on some pretty big toes! You know – like the shameless stray – more of the woman sort – who goes prancing all around at all of the parties chatting up all the husbands like she has any business! Not wise, that one!

Spuds, he gets mad just smelling that old dog has been coming around! You don’t want to be crossing a woman! Let alone a whole room full of them! Talk about scratching eyes out! I bet that’s where the first woman ever got a notion of stoning someone to death! You know – like when you pick up a rock and throw it hard as you can at that there dog that you’ve asked kindly to go away.

By the time you pick up that rock you ain’t asking! No siree! You are telling! “Get out of my space!” And not in a little while either – or if you please! No sir! “I mean now!”

And then them there women – they gather up their little chil’ren, put their bonnets back on their little noggins, grab a-hold of their fellers hand, and march right into their future: Leaving the intruder in the dirt and shaking the dust off of their dainty little feet, and then hang a sign on their doors, “Peace to all who enter here.”

I think I’ll get a spray bottle and discourage any more unwelcome advances from that hussy’s mutt. Seems it would be a whole less violent than a rock! It says in The Good Book to get along with everyone ‘As much as it is within you’. And if I go killing that dog I don’t ‘spose’ my new neighbor would take too kindly to that! Now Spuds, I’m thinking, he wouldn’t mind – no – not at all!

Ancient Chinese Proverb:
“It is better to be the hammer than the anvil.”



Necessary Changes

“Oh my word! I can’t find Spuds. I’ve looked everywhere!”
“Everywhere? Have you?”
“You know I have.”
“Not everywhere.”
“What do you mean? You know I have. Everywhere.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I think I saw him. In the street. I slowed down. I didn’t want to look. I looked hard. ‘It could be him’, I thought frantically. ‘It couldn’t be him’, I thought even more frantic. Not Spuds! I got home – searched everywhere – but he was gone.”
“So you’ve given up?”
“What if it was him?”
“What if it was him?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s a cat, isn’t he?”
“Well, yeah, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
“It’s got everything to do with anything. It’s the nine lives thing. You can’t give up on him.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”

And so there you have it. Me and my little pea brain, once we got done thinkin’ I got to thinkin’, outside of the box, you know – thinkin’ about all them there possibilities.
So I quit the giving up part, you know, the deep dark depression, excessive misery – and went back to lookin’. Maybe I hadn’t looked everywhere after all…

I dug my feet in and looked here and there – high and low – and then I finally did what any true blooded American would do – I went to the Pound. I guess I had been avoiding there. But who could blame me? I didn’t want to be around all of those loud and barking dogs. Hadn’t that been where it had all started in the first place?
I told Spuds that I had no interest in that scrawny old neighbor’s dog – but the more it came around, the madder Spuds would get. I told it to git, but did that mutt listen? I knew Spuds was mad that morning, but I didn’t expect him to dart between my feet when I opened the front door! I knew he was heading after that blasted dog! Where did he go? Where else could I go? So here I am – right smack in the midst of a whole kennel full of dogs – to look for my cat! But do you think they could have a kitty kennel? No – just a place for cats – you know – in the back!

Meanwhile on the deep, dark, Spuds side of town –

“Look at me. She’ll never find me.”
“Sure she will. She has to. She loves you.”
“But look at me. She’ll never recognize me – not after all I’ve been through – not now.”
“She’ll find you.”
“But how?”
“Here. Now.”

And it was true! There she was! Spuds could see her! His human was coming to rescue him! Should he stand? Should he sit quietly? How would she know it was him? So much had changed – everything had changed. But still he felt the same towards her. It wasn’t her fault that he was there. Wasn’t her fault he had gotten so angry. As he considered it, he really couldn’t blame himself either. He knew that now – and Lord knew he had plenty of time to think! He had been provoked! By that dog!

A deep sadness overtook Spuds and he bowed his head down as he considered that other ‘dogs’ fate.

He had ran out the door, just like Molly said. And he went straight over to that mutt’s door. He saw it laying there on its people’s porch. And Spuds confronted the enemy! And when they got face to face, let me tell you, it was not pretty! Talk about role-reversals! In a life-altering – forever even – changing way!
That dog stood up, and all of its hair stood straight up! It hissed out at Spuds and jumped up in the air, barring its claws and started chasing Spuds!

And let me tell you! Spuds had no choice but to turn tail and run! There was no way that he was going to have any part in that cat fight!

And then it happened. Spuds ran out into the street with that cat hot on his tail and splat! Flat cat!

It was as if it had been a dream – or more like a nightmare. Spuds stood safely on the other side as he watched Molly drive by. And that dead dog? It was the splat cat! And there Spuds stood – dogged! How could he go home? He had no home. He had no identity. Everything that he had ever been lay there dead in the street.

Molly walked right past Spuds – but who wouldn’t? All she could hear or see was the desolation – the whining. She didn’t want to hear it – couldn’t begin to understand the heartache, the despair. She shut the sound out and went to a better place, a quieter place, and looked for Spuds amongst the cats.

“He’s not here.” Molly bemoaned.

She considered adopting a stray cat, but her heart just wasn’t in it.

‘Maybe a puppy.’ She felt like a traitor. But she had come to the last resort and had not found her friend.

She dared a look at a set of sad eyes. ‘Take me home’ they begged as the lost and lonely dog moaned. Molly understood his despair, but couldn’t help him. She knew that they would be miserable together. Two sad and lonely souls. No – that would never do. No, she needed more – a spark – some hope…

The next one barked excitedly. Molly thought to consider him, but then caught sight of, after wind, and decided against such a bountiful challenge.

Spuds didn’t know how to beg. He didn’t even consider his new-found bark. All that he could do was what he had always done – he sat up straight and tall and he just watched. He knew that she would pass him by, but he would keep his dignity. He would not fuss. He would not beg.

Molly went to pass him by, but something compelled her to stop. And she did stop, right in front of him. He couldn’t believe it.

“See me! Notice me!” His eyes searched Molly’s. “I want to come home!”

Molly heard Spud’s heart’s cry. She bent down on her knees and looked him eye to eye.

“Spuds?”

The little dog lifted himself from his hopeless despair and wagged his little tail.

Lamentations 3:22 It is because of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not


Reconciliation

Molly was worried about Spuds. He just wasn’t the same – the transfiguration from a cat to a dog was monumental, but it was more than that. If Molly didn’t know better she’s swear that Spuds was depressed.

But not everything was bad – like getting rid of the cat box, now that was a huge plus! Spuds had sat quietly by while Molly had headed out the door with it for the last time. He sure wouldn’t miss that! Nor would he miss the humiliation he had to endure daily when Molly would without complaint dispose of his deposits. What freedom! And the great out doors! He was no longer a ‘closet cat’ but one of the neighborhood dogs! He had a tiny back yard that he found great dignity in soiling his own little corner – and better yet – Molly cleaned up after him while he napped inside…

But still, Spuds was restless. The truth of the matter was that Spuds couldn’t get that last day as a cat out of his mind. He couldn’t forget how sick he felt seeing that dog dead in the street. The memories haunted him. But Spuds put on like everything was okay by him. Man’s best friend! What more could a guy want?

But Molly, she loved Spuds too much to leave him that way. Molly started watching “The Dog Doctor” religiously. She was determined to help Spuds to transition into his new world.

After about a week of being inundated with doggie data the light finally came on. Now Molly, everyone knows, that girl’s candle don’t always burn that bright – but when Molly gets it, she’s got it! She finally realized what was missing! Off to work she went with a skip in her step. She’d stop by the Park View Dog Dealer on her way home and purchase the equipment.

She made her selections carefully. She was mindful not to get too much length on the lead – no one needs enough rope to hang themselves! And the collar – The Dog Doctor said to keep it simple. Not too much glamour, and those spikes? Leave those cheap tricks for the bulldogs!

Molly gathered up the purchases and headed home humming, “How much is that doggie in the window?” And even caught herself adding the classic, “Ruff, Ruff” Oh, I do hope that doggie’s for sale… On with the whimsy, and telling her age… Author included.

Spuds met Molly at the door. Boy, how their relationship had changed! He could still remember how stand-offish and aloft he had been before. But now, now he was as much a fool for her company as any dog could be!

Molly was happy to see how much Spud’s attitude had improved. It was getting pretty hard to miss the cat…

“Hi boy,” she cooed as she scratched behind his ears. Spuds about lost his balance as he wagged his little tail. So much for dignity! He couldn’t help it – it felt so good! Some things never change!

“Look what I got you.” Molly beamed. Spuds looked at the gifts and wasn’t too certain what to think about them.

‘That thing’s going to choke me’ Spuds wasn’t as convinced as Molly was that this ‘taking a walk’ thing was such a great plan. But then when he actually had the collar on he realized that Molly had done him just fine. It wasn’t too light or heavy – it was just right! Now the leash – that could have been longer – but the idea of having her strutting around showing him off was quite attractive! Yes – Spuds was pretty certain that he could do this!

Molly didn’t know what to expect. All of this was new to her too. And she hadn’t forgotten Spuds darting through her legs and out the door – it was the last time that she saw her kitty… But as she looked down at the precious little dog that Spuds had become she couldn’t’ help but smile. The same deep, dark eyes – The same multi-colored coat – Yes – Spuds was Spuds, there weren’t no doubt about it!

“Come on boy, let’s check this out.”

And Spuds, he wasn’t no puppy. He didn’t need to run, he weren’t in no hurry. And so off they went, the two of them, leash and collar and all, off on their new adventure.

They weren’t three steps out the door when Spuds looked over to where that neighbor’s dog liked to hang out, on its front porch, you know, when it wasn’t all up and hanging around Molly!

“Just let it drop.” Spuds chided himself. What good would it do bringing it all up anyway? Spuds knew he couldn’t unwind time – couldn’t not be angry, couldn’t un-flat the cat…

His happy patter had quickly dulled to a lagging lethargy. He never meant for any of it to happen. And then it happened. The unthinkable, the impossible, the unbelievable! The flat cat, it was back! And not splat! Not even a cat! The neighbor’s dog came strolling along, looking at the new mutt in town!

Spuds couldn’t help it – he was beside himself! If he hadn’t first been a cat he would have gone right over and sniffed that dog – no – not this dog – but Spuds sure was a happy camper! Dog not dead? Oh, happy day!

“But how?” Spuds looked to something greater than himself. “I saw him. I saw him there. Dead in the street. There ain’t no way he was getting up – no way!”

“Was it a dog you saw? A dog you saw I say, lying in the street?”

“No, a cat. A definitely flat, a definitely splat cat.”

“Remember how you felt like you were out of your body?”

Spuds vividly recalled how he had felt standing there – surreal – watching the nightmare unfold.

“You were out of your body.”

“Out of my body?”

“In the street – crow’s meat.”

“No, not me.”

“You.”

Spuds stopped cold in his tracks. He looked up at Molly and over at the neighbor’s dog who had found his way to his resting place on his front porch.

“It was me. But why did I think – ”

“You had too; else it would have been too much for you. You would have given up before Molly could find you.”

“Yeah, well, I still ain’t gonna cotton up to that old dog sniffin’ around Molly.”

“Oh yeah? You keep him in his place, but at least live in peace.”

Spuds took another look at the ‘threat’ who was now sound asleep. Maybe that old dog hadn’t wanted nothin’ to do with Molly all along…

Spuds straightened up his back and set his face towards their future. He smiled in his own little way as he mused, “Grrrr.”


Proverbs 24:16 partial: A just man may fall seven times, but rises up again