The best writers are artists.
You can strip down and focus a poem until all that’s left is to draw a picture.
The best writers are artists.
You can strip down and focus a poem until all that’s left is to draw a picture.
A dog’s just a hound
Until it’s a pet.
A drip’s just a drop
Until you’re all wet.
A dream is a picture only once seen.
A vision of something that may not have been.
So when you wake up, paint the dream in a frame
with your words still wet from what came.
If you are ever asked of me that thought provoking question; “Describe him using one word”, and you can, I’m sorry.
Whenever you decide to do anything, you decide not to do everything else.
Resolved, never to walk near my wife without touching her, so long as it depends on me.
Cost aggressively, price competitively.
Are humans really so in need of companionship that they will pursue it in the form of one, or many, of something which requires the human for its basic needs? This is a giant logical maypole, weaving wants and needs, illusion and reality until they all end up at the bottom where the question is forced: “why do I pick up your feces?”
I was doing this today, and as I do, I wondered. Why am I so willing to keep this animal (a cat, in this case) in my home? Picking up the feces of another species has become normal. This behaviour is unique to humans, as far as I can think. We clean our children’s feces. We create an industry around the storage and disposal of the feces of animals. When did you get here?
Every piece of history is relevant, no matter how insignificant it seems, for that is how we measure what comes immediately afterwards.
It seems to me that successful people worry less about when they quit, and more about what they’ve done before they quit.
A large dog was being very friendly to Ava, licking and trying to kiss her when we were trick or treating. Ava had had enough, an said “I think I’ll go outside for some fresh air…”
Put a look together that makes you look put together.
It’s frustrating to me when food gets stuck to the bottom of my feet. Rice is the worst, especially rice from dinner that night. It’s still soggy, and if I have socks on there’s about 190 pounds mashing that grain into the threads of my sock. There’s not much you can do about a few grains of rice on the floor after dinner with three children.
I feel victorious and clever when I suck bugs up with the vacuum.
To clean the floor, food often gets vacuumed too. I imagine there’s a big party in the vacuum bag when that happens.
Dollars spent has nothing to do with reputation.
If you dig a deep, dark tunnel and don’t find anything amazing, just wait until you get back.
The Judge Is Still Alive!
What does it mean that Jesus presently lives in Heaven, at the right hand of the Father?
While looking at Judges in Sunday School last week and the contrast between Israel with a judge and Israel without a judge, we all agreed that if it was up to us, we would be born at the beginning of Ehud The Lefty’s reign, since he was judge for 80 years and would probably cover our life span.
Comparing Jesus to the judges of Israel, we see one major difference: our Judge is still alive!
Acts 25:19
…but had certain questions against him of their own religion, and of one Jesus, who was dead, whom Paul affirmed to be alive.
1 Peter 3:22
It saves you by the resurrection of Jesus Christ, who has gone into heaven and is at God’s right hand—with angels, authorities and powers in submission to him.
1 Corinthians 15:3-7
For I delivered to you first of all that which I also received: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was seen by Cephas, then by the twelve. After that He was seen by over five hundred brethren at once, of whom the greater part remain to the present, but some have fallen asleep. After that He was seen by James, then by all the apostles.
That’s a big, blaring contrast to the bland language the author of Judges uses:
Judges 3:11b
Then Othniel the son of Kenaz died.
Judges 4:1
When Ehud was dead, the children of Israel again did evil in the sight of the Lord.
Judges 8:33
So it was, as soon as Gideon was dead, that the children of Israel again played the harlot with the Baals, and made Baal-Berith their god.
Judges 9:55
And when the men of Israel saw that Abimilech was dead, they departed, every man to his place.
Judges 10:2
Tola judged Israel 23 years; and he died and was buried in Shamir.
Judges 10:5
And Jair died and was buried in Camon.
Judges 12:7b
Then Jephthah the Gileadite died and was buried…
Judges 12:10
Then Ibzan died and was buried at Bethlehem.
Judges 12:12
And Elon the Zebulunite died…
Judges 12:15
Then Abdon the son of Hillel the Pirathonite died…
Samson died in the basement of the temple.
We’re starting to see a pattern. The Israelites enjoy freedom and peace with God while their judge is alive. When their judge dies, and each one did, the people are handed over to rebellion and slavery. When Jesus died, however, He gave His people freedom from sin, and victory over death because He rose from the grave.
Because our Judge is alive forever, we can and will always enjoy peace with God. It doesn’t matter what year we’re born- we live under the rule and protection of our Living Judge.
I think some pianos need a wah-wah pedal.
Has God made anything in 2D?
Skin shivering on a cold Winter night
is like flexing your biceps before the main fight.
Sometimes people say things like “I wish I were a fish.” Or they’ll say “I wish I were a lion, or a camel, or whatever.” I don’t wish I were anything at all, except what I am. I think I would rather say “If I were a mosquito, would I bite people?” Or if I were a blackbird, would I squawk at other birds? Or if I were a plant, would I be poisonous? Or if I were a bee, would I devote my life to the Queen?
It’s not a question of who I am, but how I am who I am. Animals and plants don’t have an option to be poisonous or safe, kind or unkind, fast or slow. They are who they are because of who they are. We are most unique; every minute we can either help or hurt, build up or tear down, love or hate.
How are you?
She had danced long enough, it was time to meet the band
she had sailed through the rough, gonna take the Captain’s hand.
she had strolled through the garden, now she sees the Botanist
she was lonely here without him, now she’s with the one she missed.
We count our days in years
What we reap we give
When our time on earth is o’er
We’ve eternity left to live.
An elderly lady I knew from church passed away this morning, and I was thinking about her a lot today. She was a widow for quite a while and living on her own. She had just got a room at an old age home, and was excited to move there, so it seemed. She was staying at her brother’s home for a few nights and sleeping in the same room with her sister-in-law.
Her SIL woke up in the morning and noticed she had passed away during the night. I thought she might have been thinking something like “I think I’d like to go now…” and off she went. Peaceful.
Just after Ava was born, I took the older two girls to Toys R (I don’t know why they encourage kids to write backwards – I can’t even find that letter on my keyboard) Us to let them pick out a toy each. It was kind of a ‘find something good to play with so mom can focus on the other kid’ trip. After picking out their toys, we were walking past a set of three televisions mounted high on the wall. I was looking straight ahead so I didn’t run over an unsuspecting child with my cart, but my children seemed to be enthralled by something else. I followed their dumb gaze to the televisions, where before I could say “holy Toledo, Batman!” the Joker had sifted through half a dozen people with a machine gun! Before you think I’m bashing the movie Dark Knight, hear me out. We just bought dinky cars and Polly Pocket dolls at a childrens toy store. Then a bunch of people were shot.
I jerked the cart a bit to get my kids’ attention, then asked them to look for their names on the personalized cup rack.
I thought about what was happening, and decided to ask some questions. A stock lady was organizing the Dora inventory, so I sauntered up and politely asked if she knew who decided what movies are played in the store. She responded enthusiastically “Oh, I think it’s Brian (or whatever his name was) in the media department – he loves Batman!” So I decided to go have a chat with Brian. Brian had about five people in his line, so I wheeled my kids into the small area with the video games, etc. and waited my turn.
“Hi Brian, how’s it going? Hey, what movie is that?”
“Oh man, that’s Dark Knight! It’s a hot new release. That’s the best movie in a long time!”
I could tell that Brian liked Batman.
“Cool. It looks like a great movie for your living room… but not exactly for a childrens toy store. I just happened to look up as the Joker was mowing some guys down and I don’t really find that appropriate for my kids here.”
Brian turned around. So now I have people in line behind me waiting, and I’m being ignored. I raised my voice a bit.
“Gee, thanks for hearing me out on this one… Really feel like I got my point across!”
I started to walk away and felt that more should be said, so I went back and asked to talk to a manager. The manager “came down” to see me, and after listening to my comments and telling me that “marketing” chooses which movies are played in the store proceeded to tell me how Dark Knight relates to my childhood.
“You remember 20 years ago it was perfectly fine for the roadrunner to blow up the coyote. Well, this is the progression of that mentality.”
I should have asked him if marketing gave him that answer. I told him that that line he was drawing was pretty thick, and I could only loosely see the connection between a cartoon animal fabricating creative ways to outdo the other cartoon animal (and I say “outdo” because the coyote never dies). He said they’re allowed to play any movie rated PG or better. I realized I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him, so I thanked him for his time and walked out of the store.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about this little incident. I still strongly feel that the Dark Knight is not appropriate for a childrens store, but now I’m not so ignorant about the movie after watching it myself. Because parents all have different ideas of what their children should be exposed to at which age, I can’t just say “this is bad” or “kids shouldn’t watch this”. I think a more sound argument should be the fact that they will play a PG movie. What does PG stand for again? Parental Guidance. That would assume that I, as a parent, have somehow guided my children to watch this movie. My argument is that I in no way led my children to watch this movie. I led them to a toy store, not a movie store.
If you have seen the movie, I think you’ll be able to mentally pull some images that you would find frightening at the least. Take some of those images and imagine them as posters on the walls at Toys R Us. Two Face in the hospital bed. The Joker with a knife in a few people’s mouths. In the bank with bodies littered on the floor and a few masked men with machine guns standing over them. And lastly, imagine your son just picked out his new toy from the shelf at Toys R Us, then he glances up at the tv to see a boy about his age being held by Two Face with a gun pressed to his temple.
Would you guide a child there?
Let me know what you think.
Do spiders ever fight for a prime web location?
Sometimes it’s better to learn than agree.
Everything is destiny ’cause everything is made for me.
Don’t let your brain get in the way of your body.
Life is short, but it might be shorter.
In reality, luxury is no fantasy.
The main difference between a hobby and a business is customers.
Profit comes as a close second, because you can have customers without profit.
I feel like a new man today. I think it’s because my forehead is peeling off.
…lost another chicken last night. was pretty upset over the last time Hungry Raccoon had his midnight snack, so we were a little anxious about what she’d say this time. I had a talk with her before about animals and what they do, and that it’s not “wrong”, we’re just not on the same page as they are when it comes to things like eating raw meat and having technology like refrigerators and conveniences like grocery stores. Simply put, raccoons eat chickens and that’s the way it is. I can’t interrupt him and suggest the compost pile as an alternative.
You can’t reason with infants or raccoons. They’re just not logical.
So this morning, we broke the news and the outcome was better than expected.
6 year old: “It’s ok, mom. I’m ok with this. He was probably hungry, and he was just doing what God made him to do.”
Bless your simple little mind. I can only train her to think like this for a few precious years.