Bibles

Funny thing happened to me yesterday.
(rare I know)
I was in Mardel's visiting with Em, and she had a couple of ladies come over to her and ask for her help in finding a Bible for a teenage girl.
So I began to just wander around aimlessly and looked at various books, goofed on my phone, all the while I could hear them pestering Em with questions about Bible translations, and brands and study Bible or not and etc etc etc.
Poor Em was being overwhelmed! Their questions were coming so fast and were so random that she couldn't answer.
Finally. I had to step in.
(Tony-Man to the rescue!)
I began with an answer to the question being forced upon Erica at the time: Why is it called the NIV translation?
Then we moved on to explain the "rubric" if you will, of Bible translations, of how the KJV, the NKJV, the NASB and others were more literal word for word translations, while versions like The Message, NIV, NLT and others are more thought for thought or idea for idea translations.
All the while answering the questions that arose, getting their life history, and being admonished to "use your Theology degree because someone needs to reach the youth!"
Funny thing was, you would have initially thought that it was the 40-something lady that was humouring her 80-something mother... But no... It soon became very clear that the elderly woman was of more sound mind, and was taking care of her daughter.
Fast forward to twenty minutes later of educating the poor people and helping them along the way.

It was interesting.

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Looking forward to the beginning of May.

Not looking forward to certain conversations.

Daft

Yes, I am a fool.
I know that I am.
I do not deny it.
I cannot change it.
Yet as a fool, and daft as I am, I plunge in headfirst.
Why do I do this?
Because it makes me happy that's why. The voices in my head scream out against it, but they are easily silenced.
I shall enjoy what little happiness is available while I can. I know the time will come when this is not something I can indulge in, but that day has been postponed for the time being.

Nonsense speweth forth from my oral orafice. Or fingers. Shut up I know.

having an interesting day.
Not sure I care for it. :(

That single tear

It is not a moment of emotion or of pain. But merely a moment of retrospect and self-examination.
Lying here thinking and reviewing my life to this point. I don't know what to say about myself, how to describe myself for you. If you asked me to, I can give you a patent answer but not an honest description of myself.  It's not something I can honestly manage at this point.

That tear of which I speak, escapes my eye unbidden.Unaccompanied, and bound into it's existence of solitude, it expresses how I feel.

Better

Any life without me is a life better off.

So get me out of your life and things will be better.

Freedoms

I would like to write for a few minutes about the freedoms that I enjoy and employ.

I love* the freedom that having a motorcycle gives me. I enjoy the control it gives me over my speed and direction, as well as the ability to rapidly change both with minimal effort.
I put the risers on my handlebars tonight; they much improve the bike. Love them, and slightly proud of myself for managing it.
I enjoy the air in my face and hair, I enjoy the way I am solely responsible for the way the bike handles beneath me. I cannot begin to describe the depth of the affections I feel towards motorcycles, and riding.

There is another freedom that I love that encompasses the previously listed one.

I love the freedoms that I have bestowed upon me by the nation in which I live. I have the freedom to enjoy the freedom of my motorcycle, and to modify, ride, and go when and where I want to, because I live in what is (Or was) the best country on this earth.

The last freedom, is one that I love, and is one that is optional, and yet I choose to employ it.

I love the freedom that I have, and I am proud of the freedom that I have, that I don't have to park my motorcycle in front of a bar for four or five hours on a payday Friday to try to numb the guilt in the my heart, and the pain in my life.
I am free from the chains and bondages of sin. I have no fear of guilt or pain from sins past, present, or future, because of the hope that I have in my Lord Jesus Christ.

I am free. But I am a slave.

I am a slave of love, A slave by choice.

I have chosen to bind myself to Christ and to be His.

I am a free man by birth, and by second birth.

I am a slave by choice. A slave without chains.

I am a free slave.

*Yes, I am working my way away from using the word "love" to describe things when it is not 100% accurately how I feel about it, but I feel that it applies in these situations.

I figured it out

I'm a nice guy.
That's the source of my problems.

Missing

Where is my heart?
It's missing, but I'm not missing much.
Don't even start,
I don't want to believe in love and such.

I am getting weary from the strain
Please make it go
I don't think that I can stand the pain
Just let it flow.

Broken pieces,
I can never find them all,
Fear increases,
That should teach me not to fall,

...

I don't know the ending yet, should I continue?

Dangerous

When I start thinking/feeling like this.

I'm going to end up doing something out of character that is going to get me in big trouble and that I will probably regret later.

*shrug*

At least I'm prepared for it.

Strangely

Tonight, of all nights. There is a strange quiet in me... In spite of the expected turmoil...

Keep Me In Mind

Apparently I live by this song...................

Blood and Pain

His throat tightened and  convulsed as it rejected the thick, hot fluid running down it. He woke as his stomach churned and he gagged and coughed violently, spewing blood  over himself and his bedclothes, getting a second shower of as his head came forward and gravity took hold.

He stemmed the steady flow from his nose as he tried to cough and clear the blood out of his throat. Half asleep, fighting for what seemed like survival as he struggled to find the white kerchief there by his bed. Finally he finds it and presses it to his nostrils, he crawls out of bed and groggily plops into the chair at his desk.

Twenty minutes pass slowly, the only sound that of slow breathing, and the occasional sniff as he readjusted the thin piece of cloth to better retain the crimson fluid flowing freely from his nostrils. He began to feel lightheaded as stream began to slow, and finally to cease.

He stands slowly. Tossing the newly dyed kerchief aside, he rolls his head around on his neck and bring his arms up as his rolls his shoulders, feeling the tendons move and flex beneath this skin. He pauses as he feels a twinge and adjusts the angle of his stretch so the muscles don't pull against the tension in his back.

Taking a deep breath, he moves slowly to prepare for the day. Just another thing to overcome.


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As I wrote this blog this morning, I couldn't decide if I wanted to include this little footnote, or if I wanted to leave it as just a story. But I have decided to include it now, this way, only those who revisit the blog will read it. :)

As the title says "Blood and Pain" I feel I should expound upon that.
These are two things that I have been accustomed to since I was a small child, and I honestly believe that I have become comfortable with them, and that I shall continue to be acquainted with them for the remainder of my life.

Sober

Heard this song on the radio...interesting...

I am just a worthless liar. I am just an imbecile. I will only complicate you. Trust in me and fall as well. I will find a center in you. I will chew it up and leave, I will work to elevate you just enough to bring you down

Ridiculous

That's what it is.

Why do I say things and then not follow them through?

Fear.

That's why.

Because I am too afraid to risk what I have for a chance to have more.

Diving in

He saw the shattered safety glass flying across his vision from the right before he heard the stomach wrenching sound of crumpling metal and felt the bone jarring impact as the car was sent spinning across the now chaotic four lanes of traffic...

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Working full time? Yup.
Riding Medusa whenever possible? Yup.
Playing Battlefield 3? Yup.
Keeping up with church and teaching? Yup.
Reading two nonfiction books? Yup.
Reading a fiction book? Yup.
Busy enough? Apparently not.
Going back to school full time in addition to work? Yup.
Trying to change jobs at the same time? Yup.
Scared? Yup.
Going to let it stop me? Nope.
Diving in headfirst? Yup.
Here goes!

Secrets Redux

I was wrong. Another example of my poor judgment.

Back to no secrets worth keeping.

I'm too easily played.

Loveable

That is something no one has ever accused me of being.
I'm pretty sure if they did, it would only be a friendly ploy of encouragement, and not so much the truth.
There are more things about me to dislike than to like, I recognize this and share in the dislike of myself.
Don't try to get close to me, there is only a short list of outcomes, and none of them pleasant.

Ah tomorrow; another day alone.

Secrets

I've never been one for secrets.
I've never found one worth keeping.
Never wanted to keep one.
Not until I found you.

You can be my secret.

Bits and Pieces

Were you listening when I screamed out your name?
Can you even hear me?
Do you see my pain?

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I heard you.
I was listening.
I see you.

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I know it that it should not be.
I know what others see.
I know that am not capable of this.
I know that something is amiss.

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All these thoughts in my head
They bring me round and fill me with dread.

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What is your story?
I want to know your story.
Won't you tell me?

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Can I write your story?

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Spicks and Specks!

Significance

Sometimes I lose mine.

I am here

I want to tell you a story, to have you rapt and focused upon my every word.
I want to see you leaning in as I weave the details and spin the plot as something tangible.
I want to know that I am reaching you with my words, that I am impacting you in a way that will last.
I want to teach you my story. I want you to see what I have seen.
I want to teach you so that you don't have to learn the hard way.
I want to join the words and diction in a way that holds you mesmerized within my ability to speak.
I want to learn how to tell you in words that you will understand.
I want you to listen when I speak, and value that which I tell you.

I am here.

I always listen. I'm always ready to be whatever you need me to be.
There may be times when I would wish to be anywhere else.
But for you I will remain, and you will never know of my reticence.
I am dedicated. I am honest. I am transparent.
Ah but therein lies the complication.
I hurt. I bleed. I suffer.
You must earn the right to be a part of my hidden unhappiness.
I will share my entire life and soul with you.
But you truly know me when I show you my scars and my wounds.

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Let me be here for you.
I see your pain.
I see the emptiness in your eyes.
I see the way you glance at people out of the corner of your eye to see if they are watching you and to see if they are staying consistent.
I see the hunger for fulfillment and love.
I know how your heart aches with every beat.
I know how your head begins to spin and you feel empty and broken every time you think about the future.
I know.
I understand.
But I don't know how to help you.
If you let me in. I will pour out this love that I have and I will lend you solace in your pain.
There have been times when you look at me and I see you begging me to say something, and all I am able to do is hug you and tell you that I do, honestly love you, and that God is shaping this part of your life so that you will have a better ministry in the future.
But most of the time your eyes just fall and you turn away.
I offer.
I wait.
I pray.
I am here.

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Dear God show me how to use these few talents I have to help this hurting child. My heart aches with the pain I know they feel. Dear God grant me Your wisdom so that I may help them to yield their broken vessel to you for healing.
Use me.
Pour me out and cast me aside.
But do not let this one fall away.