Thursday, March 31, 2016

The Way I See You

It seems I ought to voice in language what feels as natural to me as breath.  Tis strange to consider that the idea may prove a new or astonishing one to my gentle reader as it has been a part of my blood and psyche since day one. 
When I look at you, my friend, and I count you all as friends, I see a divine child of the Master of creation.  God Himself wanted to create you in order to heighten His own personal joy and cherishes every step you take.  You matter to Him and you matter to me.  There is no human soul in this world that is or ought to be beneath my notice or outside my compassion.  When I see a stranger on the street I remember that he or she is my spiritual sibling, and that the greatest Being in the universe is mindful of them.  So I should be.  I strive to carry a smile to all, for my brother or my sister may need one at that moment, and I would render it, though I may not know their name. 
Your spirit is eternal, existing in glory before this world was and will continue long after your mortal clay rests quietly in the bedrock embrace of Mother Earth.  You destiny can be a glorious one.  I do not care what sins you have committed or what atrocities have found birth at your hands.  No one is beyond help and no one is beyond the reach of amendment.  Every last person carries great and immeasurably worth and potential.  No one is exempt. 
The last year has seen many seek to injure me in various ways, in various places, and with various purposes.  I have lain awake countless nights, praying for the welfare and seeking to appreciate the good in those who would declare themselves my enemies.  Circumstances may not allow my association with certain of them but I carry compassion and hopeful thoughts for each and every one of them without exception.  I am not so arrogant as to believe that it is always my personal guidance and friendship people need but when they shut me out I know God yet has a plan for them and wants to teach them joy unparalleled.  I look forward to that day for them, for you and for myself.

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

There's Good in Everyone

It may come as a shock that at least one of the ladies I have so highly described in my posts erstwhile has treated me with public contempt and never sought my pardon, and I am considering penning another post about a woman who has used me even worse.  We may think it an unwise gesture to shower them with praise and show their good side to the world.  We may consider that it is foolishness and weakness in a person to recklessly forgive and continue to see positive attributes in others who have done them continual disservices.  Not so.
Consider with me for a moment what happens when we find ourselves injured by the actions of others.  We may experience shame, betrayal, mistrust and the like.  This surely seems quite normal and so it was with me regarding the woman in question.  But when we allow those feelings to continue, when we hold to our pain and cherish our grudges, we find ourselves emotionally and spiritually hobbling through life with barriers all about us.  Is it not so?  We cannot walk into that room with a smile and warmly, genuinely greet everyone in it because he or she is there.  We cannot consider that all the world is bright and glorious because of that blockage of bitterness in our own psyches.  We cannot extend love to the entire human race and follow our Master Jesus Christ in fullness of heart, because we refuse to extend love and compassion to that one person. 
I regularly scroll through my mind and the characters who make up the story of my life and pick out those who dislike me the most, or those who I find it most difficult to openly embrace.  I consider them, pray for their happiness, consider what I can do to serve them, and open up my own heart to seeking their welfare.  I may not fully trust them, and perhaps may not allow them too near my vulnerable feelings to inflict damage, but I will lay out compliments and act with marked kindnesses. 
Quite honestly, when people wrong us, shall we continue to live in anger?  They have injured us enough, and are we to also hand to them our peace, our happiness, our outlook on life and our comfort?  Have they deserved that of us by their high and exalted behavior?  Hardly.  One may argue that kindness toward them will not change their behavior.  I would not expect their behavior to change.  If they choose to target me with hatred and belittlement so be it.  If they choose to twist their shorts into various knots over me, that is their choice.  My choice is still to see the good in them and appreciate that perhaps they may be excellent people in their own way but that I personally don't seem to be quite their cup of tea. 

Woman of the Year

Inspired by and dedicated to Rebecca Hartzell
Who is this?  The elegant radiance proves overwhelming.  Model skin, well set locks and admirably sculpted profile strike our inquiring onlooker with natural and unquenchable interest.   Were this the limit of her charms, nothing would prove wanting.  But her heart reaches for heaven and God has endowed her with greater loveliness even than this.  Perched atop platform heels, she stands with dignity and poise, her exquisite figure fit for a supermodel and inspiring a friendly envy from her female associates.  Surely this bounteous pulchritude proves her most powerful personal gift?
Not so, gentle reader.  We've hardly seen the tip of the iceberg.  That lusciously attractive head holds more intelligence, ideas and reason than one generally meets in the average course of an afternoon stroll.  Countless the volumes she's devoured and a great many more she could pen.
This then, we can safely answer, proves the broad extent of her assets?
The heart, gentle reader, turns ever and often to God, and follows His counsel as a righteous and upstanding woman.  Rubies crumble beneath her value and all she knows stand witness to her diligence in the faith.
Yet even this fails to describe her perfections with accuracy.  This beautifully made high heeled woman has yet a crowning achievement in her personal arsenal.  Eight of them to be precise, for this lady with the enviable waistline has given life to a veritable army of young soldiers in almighty Christ. 

A mother is the highest call;
in this she doth transcend them all.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

Storybook Princess

Inspired by and dedicated to Emily Mortenson

We all of us prove offspring of God, blessed with divine pedigree and potential for celestial futures, but in some we find an added spiritual gift of angelic countenance here in faded mortality.  Some few carry in their presence a freshness, which reminds all who know them of the grace and romantic justice fated in the heavens.
Such is she.  I oft consider her in delicate contemplation for in this daughter of the highest we plainly view a storybook princess, painted with classical loveliness that no prince astride his pale charger could resist.  In her creamy skin we find the attractiveness of Snow White made reality.  Her calm self possession in this wild land of life illustrates the regal nature of her heart as clearly as any Cinderella.  Rapunzel's tresses hold no greater charm than these delicate strands of shimmering gold.  Belle, Sleeping Beauty - all of those must freely and fully acknowledge in her their superior.  A blend of grace and industry, she captivates the imagination of her onlookers and inspire young ladies to follow her example. 
We cannot help appreciating and extending gratitude to God for His gift to all that behold her fair features for she is a breathing witness that exquisite attractiveness within and without need not wait for the hereafter, but indeed can stand manifest today for all to enjoy.  In her we feel the refreshing breeze through heaven's gate beckoning us onward and reminding us that ethereal glory is real and awaits our higher, purer selves. 

The Voice

Inspired by and dedicated to Yvonne Richardson
A beautiful voice breaks dismal silence and infuses into the air glorious tremblings of faith.  It reaches across barriers, transcends graphical boundaries, and stretches both forward and back through time to caress opposite horizons of all consuming eternity.
This is the voice of an endless nature and beloved pneuma.  I look into her soul and seem to view all her history coming together - her spirit from before this earth, bright and adventurous, excited to step into a shadow of reality that would strengthen her personality and enrich her understanding.  Finding herself clothed in a body, she trudged through difficulty and distress to discover at last how closely her Father held her in His arms.  Her muscles intensified and she rose through the conflagrations of trial, finding her spirit purged as the flames licked maliciously at her wounds, until she became the radiant vision of power we see today.
And still the voice extends, comforting dolefulness, testifying truthfulness, nurturing all within her sphere of influence and extending cherished good will.  How blessed are her associates!  How rewarded are her friends!
The impact of her emotions creates a healing balm of peace ot those who know the lady.  Her joys inspire happiness in others and even the tears of her anguish prove beauteous.

Her goodness casts a sweet, exultant light
Reflecting God's own love and glory bright.

Sunday, March 20, 2016

Smile of Light

Inspired by and dedicated to Lauralee Flores

She carries an unconscious smile unlike anything I've been privileged to behold.  Smooth, pink lips curve gently upward, possessing light and peace, but as I gaze on this masterpiece made flesh, realization slowly, powerfully dawns that her smile extends past the physical curvature and enlivens all the enchanting features of her visage.  Happiness glows in her skin, radiating loveliness and joy, drawing inward all her observers, taking captive the hearts of all before her, converting each associate into a devoted and avid admirer.  

The eyes glisten with heavenly light, inspired from the inner brightness of soul.  Pulchritude of heart plays upon her exterior appearance and the energy of her goodness sparkles exquisitely through eyes of shining blue glory.  

But one can hardly forget or ignore the heart inspiring dynamics of her angelic aspect.  Some daughters of God enjoy soft facial topography and some sharp, staccato comeliness.  This goddess altogether broke the mold.  The nose, cheek, and profile walk past interesting, laughingly bypass intriguing and stand dangerously close to addicting to any sculptor or literary artist.  This nature provides a feast for the eyes - not an overflowing of tasteless fuel, inspiring a general surfeiting of refuse, but an intricate palace filled to the brim with delicate gourmet, in which all needs prove gratified and nothing of merit goes wanting.

Ethereal Glory Made Flesh

Inspired by and dedicated to Summer Driggs
Honor and gratitude bow the knee in the inexpressible privilege of knowing so magical a creature.  Fairy, nymph, dryad, siren - these altogether might touch her aura but miss the mark and crumble before her divine heart.  Human language stumbles, staggers backward, regroups and strives forward to stalwartly continue in the undefinable task of clothing in description so beautiful a lady.
Divinity embraces her form from glorious head to heaven crafted toe.  There are some who labor and strive to see their own worth; the power of her eternal purpose exalts all things about her and to those who view her, she transcends common humanity, shatters barriers of darkness, and hovers several inches above the temporal floor.
We could paint volumes in discussion of her seductive tresses, her enviable figure, nigh perfect skin and eyes of sheer, unmitigated glory.  But it might tempt us to forget the overwhelming talent emanating from her royal fingertips.  Quick as lightening they dance across piano keys, filling all within her auditory reach with blessings, touching souls and uplifting the human spirit.  They caress flittingly, trained and resourceful across a myriad of tools and situations, creating majesty and guiding others heavenward everywhere she finds herself. 
Some are angels clothed in flesh with the wonderful call to make the mortal world more beautiful.  Truly, gentle reader, this lady is she. 

Thursday, March 17, 2016

Through Tear Streaked Eyes

I saw myself in yonder looking glass - appearing somewhere between reality and mist.  Vice swirls madly around me, biting and snapping with venomous jaws.  I behold an oasis in the midst of my soul.  Hobbling amiably forward I find it guarded by lethal scorpions, lashing and striking as they encircle my soul's safety zone in a blinding, all consuming dance.
Tornados of angst spin in the distance - a dusty plain churns dry foliage and scatters it like chaff.  Visions of destiny shred themselves before my face and deride the hopes to which my foolish heart had exhibited ambition to cling.
The waves of salt tears whip my form beneath their surfaces and land me face down on the beach of dreams.  Glistening at first, the promising sands betray themselves into nightmares, black and mocking the diminishing light in a demonic, unharmonious jig.
I pull myself to standing.  The wet ebony tresses lashing the moist cheek in night's howling gale.  Pale skirt floats on its breath, reaching back toward the ocean and gathering luminescence from fair Diana's midnight orb.
It may be just me and the moon against the vile stench of hellish pitch, but my spirit grows calmer.  The furious wind shrieks louder, drowning the Satanic merriment swirling about my bare feet.  Beneath my skin, the sand crystallizes into translucent form and the sensation spreads outward, further and further until the elements subside and al the land before me sparkles like the polished firmament of heaven. 

The Art of Forgiveness

Morning woke me gently, its golden hues quietly inspiring me to rise.  My heart filled to o'erflowing with gratitude for health, friends, peace of conscience and hope for the future.  I proved grateful that no anger or hatred corroded the happy opening moments of my day.
It could certainly have played out otherwise.  Friends I trusted have sought to destroy my standing at church.  A lady I tenderly love in whom I confided had recently returned my confidence with distain, coldness and all but open scorn.  Many of those I have treasured most have lavished upon me rudeness, cruelty, abuse and degradation, and nearly all of these without apology or amends.  It has often seemed that betrayal proved the continual and steady thread in the tapestry of my life.  Emotional agony has certainly been no stranger. 
Sometimes such trials lead us to exclaim in our anguish, "Haven't I suffered enough?" Yes, my friend.  You and I have suffered much.  Let us stop the bleeding as much as possible.  Let us lay our wrongs before the throne of almighty God and leave them in His merciful care.  Let us release our death grips on the pain and never allow it to hinder our joy more.  Let us refuse to own those injuries, but push away from them and cast our gaze ever heavenward, reaching, searching, and beckoning toward the light.  Let us recognize that the behavior of others never reflects our own souls but theirs, and thus may we honestly pity them and genuinely strive for their welfare that no darkness or vile feeling may linger to trouble our pleasant thoughts.  Let us wish them well and labor for their success. 
God sees all and will repay in His own due time and in His infinitely just manner.  Ours is to forgive as we hope for divine forgiveness.  We needn't attempt to sort out the details, for all the universe is filled with light and understands the facts as they ultimately stand. Our hands prove weak but all heaven will reach out in love to avenge each hurtful endeavor.  Let love for that poor, lost soul work in you and in me to pray and work for their progression and for their good.

Friday, March 11, 2016


Inspired and dedicated to Rocky Twitchell
Power radiates from his palms, his fingers set, strong, quick and sharp.  Punches, strikes, and holds flow naturally from fingertip to wrist, breaking, snapping, and shattering obstacles in their path.  Years of training have crafted these tools into skillful weapons of mass destruction.  They communicate energy, resonance, and offer meaning in the beautiful passion that is martial arts. 
Formidable in themselves, but practiced in the employment of metal clad arms, these hands flawlessly shift through arsenals of guns, blades, and other lethal instruments.  They seek not despotism but guardianship, protecting the innocent and uplifting the weak.
Now his hands move expertly across the tedious topography of a keyboard.  Words of kindness appear on the screen, strengthening the downcast and lifting the injured to a pedestal of honor. 
The same hands labor for family, drying tears and pulling relatives into protective embrace.  They work, assist and sacrifice in leadership and love.
But a greater protection than all these emanates from the righteous man's hands.  Few warriors in the history of the earth have wielded the very power of God and employed its earth shattering influence.  For all the training, the weaponry, the labor and the mortal command, his greatest advantage over evil lies in the virtue of the priesthood that he holds.  Here resides the true protector, the spiritual captain, the inevitable king.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Rise of the Echoing Enchantress

Inspired by and dedicated to Jennifer Hess

I recall the first day I met her, the world proving gloomy, dank, and unrelenting.  Hardly knowing how, my black Sketchers trudged begrudgingly across the implacable ebony pavement, dragged their way along dull gray sidewalk, hurtled a carpeted gym floor, and final stood stock still in the sacred shrine we call a dance floor.  Spiritually dragging, my self love and personal reverence in shambles, I gazed listlessly at a haggard view of my reflection in the full length mirror. 
I'm never certain if I initially saw her face or if the dazzling wave of sheer energy reached me first.  Either way, a messenger from heaven, sent as a tender mercy sidled into the room, dispelling the cankering negativity and seemingly with a mission to pull me out of my stupor.
It wasn't easy.
The music failed to wake me; my own efforts couldn't rouse my spirit, but something about this beautifully coordinated weapon of glory began to slowly remove the scales from my weary and battle weakened heart.  Something in her countenance reminded me of the joy I'd so thoroughly forgotten. 
Her actions and movement came to me as a recollection from a far off dream.  Her lead and guidance woke me from the core and warmth began to renew my exhausted soul.  It seemed like I had known her forever, that fate had forewarned me in another dimension that she would reawaken my temporarily injured and war ravaged mind.
Each aspect of her frame, her timing, her grace were perfect - so perfect that I felt I had known it, somehow, before.  My spirits rose and the haze that had clouded my psyche began to life.  The brilliant energy of her smile beckoned me onward; her confidence afforded me opportunity to expand; her hair, joining in the tempestuous dance reminded one of a supermodel performing before a camera and attested the fact that we all have the potential for exquisite greatness.  Each action, large and miniscule proved harmonious and inspiring. 
But I most remember the eyes.  Vibrant, sharp, and flashing with passion, they struck you and forced their audience into involuntary admiration.  Here were eyes that could slice through granite, pierce darkness, and launch a thousand ships.  Here were auspices that shattered barriers, uplifted the defeated and echoed soul sweetening brightness throughout all eternity.

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Angel of the Dawn

Inspired by and dedicated to Nicole Nelson
A spirit of sweetness, warming all before her like aurora breaking across the benighted horizon casts its light in gentle wakefulness, caressing away the gloom of trials and agony of pain.  Her voice drifts across the air in strengthening meekness, bringing order to chaos, uplifting the broken soul.
Her rosy countenance blooms as a garden of joy and one gains the sense of an early spring day with all its rejuvenating freshness.  Her presence is as a breeze, cooling harshness, softening hatred and blowing vice to oblivion.
Dare we lift our mortal eyes to the feminine visage?  Reverence bows our head.  But gentleness inspires courage and we turn out gaze at last to the beautiful face. 
We recognize that in spite of the flawless skin, the eternal eyes and lovely shoulder length tresses the most powerful feature of this bright daughter of the highest finds its place in the sweet and wonderful smile.  Here we see shadows of heaven, connection to her mighty Father, and reality testifies her everlasting nature.  Grateful we are that her soul will never taste death, for the universe itself exalts in her existence. 

Goddess Incarnate

Inspired by and dedicated to Dianne Blease

The grace of her presence edifies all who find themselves blessed to know the goddess.  In she strides, pink sneakers confidently leading the exquisitely poised and chiseled body toward its rightful station in full view of adoring fans.
Blonde head held high, exuding inner strength and an inspiring self love, she reaches the front of her divine throne room.  Every eye impressed and every spirit already uplifted, her followers await her commands with breathless anticipation. 
Nothing lacking in appearance, let us take a step nearer the soul within.  Experience in this fallen world would suggest a flawless exterior deceiving, but as we grow acquainted with the open, gentle heart all eternity unleashes itself in testifying to her glory.  Here stands a woman who time and trial have tested.  Scores of devastating agonies have sought her destruction but rising from conflagration's bloody ashes shines the daughter of almighty God like a masterpiece of purified gold.  Demons shrink, evil shudders, and darkness flees at her approach, terrified and trembling in the divine rippling of her awe inspiring wake.

Portrait of Sarah Bisel

Deep, eternal sentiment fuels exquisite light in her lovely eyes.  Framed by lavish lashes that grace the curvature of her brows, they view greater heights than the paltry wandering a of this fallen world. Reflecting the glorious heaven of her spirit, they sparkle like unto the ethereal spheres that cast meaning and purpose into dusty, blighted lives. Truly, these are the windows to the soul of awe inspiring womanhood.

Beauty radiates and expands to reveal the smooth skin of her damask cheek, and gracious, luscious form of her mouth. Full and queenly, her lips set themselves into gentle, unconscious smiles that brighten, uplift, and endear.

Our vista opens wider and we recognize the soft, gorgeous curls that surround this picture of splendor, fall in lush, blissful cascades upon her shoulders and caress their way down her back.

The lady speaks and enthusiastic righteousness vibrates through the air.  Strength and intelligence emanate from her heart through bright words and enlightens all spirits within her reach.

Surely here is a creature greater than rubies, a mortal angel basking in light. 

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Celestial Woman's Waiting Thoughts

A lady draped in veil and finest silk
Awaited life to call to her embrace
Enraptured bliss.  The fresh and nurtured milk 
Which dripped in lavish waves upon her face
Coursed down the satin skin that clothed her form.
Surrounding her proved naught but open space-
She stood within the eye of venom's storm
Where tempests lashed, and words rained down in screams
From harpy lips where blood ran ever warm. 
But here, her haven silenced fear with dreams
Of future sweet, unblemished, ever bright
To match her soul's unmitigated beams
Reflected from her Master's gracious light.
Reposing in her beaudoir's lavished gold
She waits the Lord her story to unfold.