Images: Pins andhttps://www.pexels.com/ Tiny, bony hands, groping for my golden hair. A mother, in flowers from head to toe, swaddling a toddler in a sling; with the likeness of a sickly mare. Wiggling free the heap of bones comes to me, on wobbly feet and a rounded, bloated, stomach. I scoop her up in my […]Ina son ku: I love you — The Art of Life
Oh curse these hands! / They didn’t heal you!
I had hoped we’de be happy; / But that dream’s too far gone
Lying in a pool of blood; / This gun in my hand. / I killed you with it
Can I take back what I see? / You broke my heart and now you’re gone…
I don’t know why I did it/ You shouldn’t have pushed! / But I was wrong to seek you out
I close the door – leaving the dark to engulf you in. / oh they find me. / Little demons ripping at my heart.
You stay where you are / Don’t come alive. Don’t seek me / I’ll only tear you…apart
I still love you, but I’ve seen what I have become / I’ll change; so not to hurt / But it’s too late for us / Pack up your blood, and travel where you’ll be loved.
I won’t miss…you
It’s a lie
I often find myself writing things like this; I haven’t yet figured out why these works are called! Sometimes I have a vague idea of what I’m writing; but more often the words just flow from me and I don’t really know what I am writing. Afterward, when the flood is gone, I’ll look back over what I wrote, edit it, and then a story behind the words comes to my mind. I think that most of them are from God, as I feel I could ever write these on my own whim!
THE STORY BEHID THE WORK: The ‘writter’ is a woman, standing in a cement room with barred one window that lets blue light seep a little bit through. There is a metal door behind the woman who stands in full black leather…a pistol in her hand. At her feet is someone – a man- laying in his face, dark chrism pooling in a circle around him.
The woman comes from this story I read in Prepeairing to be A Healp Meet by Debi Pearl (link at end of post) and there was a woman who had torn her husband up and down with her words and attitudes until he decided to leave her. Long story short, he ended up finding another to love, who would treat him better.
So in my writing, the killer is a woman, who, represents a wife who has ‘killed’ her man by the words she used.
“Oh curse these hands!” She was supposed to be his helper, to comfort and, we’ll, help him and build him up. But she never used this great gift for him.
“Little demons riling at my heart.” Was originally going to be the police seeking her out; but then I decided it to be memories of what she’s done and the guilt.
“You stay where you are / don’t come alive….” She does not want her man to come back to her; she knows that though she has changed, she wants him to go some where else and be loved. By someone else who will not make the same mistakes that she did and ruin him again.
“I still love you…” Though she loves him desperately, it is the same story as above. She promises to change, but just cannot take the risk of him coming back to her again.
“Pack up your blood….” He has another that will love him; and the woman encourages him to do so. Though she will be angry at him, she just does not want to hurt the man again; let another do what she never did.
I was leaning up against shelves of folded tank tops in Walmart, pushing the shopping cart slightly back and forth with my toe; trying not to look too crazy with TEN loafs of bread, FOUR jugs of milk, SIX dozen eggs, FOUR cases of water (the pipes are full of rust from previous earthquakes.) and a thousand other items that stacked well above the cart while I waited for my Mom to come…. with the second cart. (Struggles of a large family 🙈) An old, bending man came down the isle I was in; pushing his heavy wife in her wheelchair – and a full shopping cart in the other hand! He was rushing around grabbing all the things his wife demanded for him to grab or for her to look at. I was thinking about how sweet this man was, specially as he seemed to be in more pain than his wife in the shopping cart! but I was shocked, his wife was yelling at him and constantly berating him, telling him that he never did anything right and how (litteraly) stupid and irritating he was! She was acting like SHE was better than him and he was stupid. (Often the view of men these days) He husband was being so sweet and not uttering a sing word the interest time, but just going back to the same shelve five times or more until the woman dedcided exactly what color she wanted. I really wanted to just go up to her and say, “If you spent less time trying to fix your man, and just enjoy him for who he truly is; you’ll both be so happy!” Regretfully, I let fear overcome me and I wanted them both leave. I waited for another ten minutes before mom came, in guilt at having missed such an obvious moment form God; then asked him to forgive me and somehow let that woman know the truth!!
Serksuly, nothing more needs to be said; If you STOP trying to FIX you man, and just ENJOY him for who he IS; then you’ll both me SO much more happy! Please, notice how sweet your man TRULY is ladies! It’s always irking me the way society treats men these days; they really are truly trying! Let’s not murder them with our actions and words, and use these hands that were placed in their’s that white day. 🙂
And now some of my photography of Dad (sense I’m not married lol) to express this post….
Preparing to be a Help Meet: http://nogreaterjoy.org/blogs/preparingtobeahelpmeet/book/
No Greater Joy: https://nogreaterjoy.org/
New Orleans Preaching Trip: https://youtu.be/HXlMY3cXJK0
Speak Life: https://youtu.be/ZeBv9r92VQ0
Thank you for taking the time to read ya’ll!
~My Life as a Photographer
“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the LORD, who has compassion on you.”
Pictures can canpture a thousand words, as the saying goes. Words can transporting us to different times and worlds; bringing nations together, or tearing them apart. Words are powerful; but a picture can sometimes speak more than all the words in the world can.
Pictures capture an art; the art of the person in front of the lense, their feelings. It can capture the feel of mystic lakes and mountains. Tell a story through eyes. Pictures speak where words cannot.
Just like photos, mountains are a thing to be seen and marveled at. They “ask us to ponder our inner being.” As Jane Kirkpatrick said in her book “Everything she didn’t say.” Mountains also draw us to find their creator—God. Through mountains, people, sense the dawn of time, have found consoles in them. That is why I wish to share a glimpse of the mountains I breath under with you…
“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, “Your God reigns!” -Isaiah 52:7
You make known to me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
Winters in Alaska are long, dark and cold. So when February comes and the sun starts rising more and shining through the grey shades of sky, everyone rushes outside to soak up some of its warmth and happiness.
Depression can set in during winter; with all the greys of sky and surroundings. Nothing new, bring or green springs up or shines against the white. Yesterday, I happened to be outside just at four o’clock when the clouds parted a huge golden sun shone glouriously; whipping away the dark depressing shades. All the troubles of the world seemed to melt like the snow under the sun. Smiles reflected off our faces and the sun sent down beams of joy.
For a full half hour we basked in the happiness of the melting gold. Slowly grey clouds began forming and shaded over Alaska’s source of winter light. It became chilly outside; the wind, suddenly not so warm and becoming. The snow became dirty and old; all gone the sparkle. An artist had splashed greys across our sky.
Gone with the sun, our joy. Depression and sadness; life’s problems, trials and struggles threatened on the door of our hearts once more. We had been happy while the sun lasted, but when it was gone, so did our spirits dampen. I wished the sun would stay forever and with it, the joy.
Joy. It comes by in many ways; a kiss, a hug. A smile, light. Good news, or a gift. A child; new birth! All this things bring joy to our hearts and light up our eyes. But, all these are momentary. When the hug ends, our tears can still fall. Good news has the option of bad news right after. None of these joys last; none of them keep us eternity happy, forever.
We all want to be happy in life. We all strive to do the things that bring us joy. That make us happy and enjoy life. We all do things to escape from our problems; conceal them behind something. We all want to find the good in every situation; be constantly happy where life cannot find us. Does such happiness exist? Joy that we can truly grab onto and never let go? That will guide us in all of life’s circumstances and carry us through. Where can we find true joy like this?
I found mine in Jesus. His joy is the only thing that we can truly hold onto and never let go. His joy promises to guid us through rough seas; as the sun guides many a captain to the dawn. His joy is eternal, even through pain and affliction. If we can truly grasp his true joy; our faces will never be ashamed! As it it says in the Bible, “Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.” -Psalm 34:5
Often in the midst of grey, we cannot see past our suffering, and all joy is void from us. Jesus promises that while, “Sorrow May come in the night, joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)
Like that sunset, all things that bring us moments of joy will, and do, fade away. Jesus’s Joy is the only one that can last for eternity and bring us even MORE joy than all the other things that life can bring us!