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at the foot of the cross

at the foot of the cross

I stood at the bottom of the hill, they call it Golgotha, or the place of the skull. growing up I thought along with my friends that this hill was able to turn us into gools or something. we would have competitions to see who could reach out and touch it the longest, even on a sunny day this was terrifying, but we got sick pleasure from it, a little guilt, a little thrill, it had us shaking in our boots, at any moment we thought we most defiantly could fall over dead. just the same, it was our favorite pass time, a childish game. I was so young then, but still as I stood there at the foot of it, I felt that guilt, that shame and strangely that little tug of promise of pleasure pulling me up the hill. I’m almost to the top, all of a sudden it becomes too much, all the excitement and utter fear grab my knees and violently throw me to the ground. I lay there face down. I slowly lift my head and hands. I have dirt on my face, more like mud really. I go to wipe it off but I can’t because I suddenly realize my hands are covered in something, its full of a metal smell, I realize it is the one thing I should’ve expected, but when I saw it I was entirely startled. It was blood. I get to my knees and sit on my heals, they dig into me, I look straight forward. I see a huge railroad tie of wood in front of me, the size of a tree, and at the top of my vision I see toes, completely red except for the second to first toe on the left foot. the sun is setting behind this tree like pole with toes upon it. I dont want to look up, but that excitement has filled me again, I slowly raise my eyes. I find feet are attached to these toes. and legs. I stop and look down again, suddenly someone says, “I pity the deranged one hanging on that tree.” I am completely horrified by what I’ve just heard. I then realize that it was my voice, I hummed under my breath to see if the tone of my voice sounded like what I had just hurt. it was me. how could I has said that?! why did I?! surely this mans blood will stain my hands for the rest of my God-forsaken life. I look up again past the toes to this mans ribs where an unpierced chest is, ripped in many places where the glass on the strips of leather must have whipped around and grabbed His skin and ripped it open. blood is rubbed all over what us left of Him. I look to His neck, its strained down, hanging. I look at His chin, covered in hair but I feel like I have just ripped out His beard. It hurts to move my eyes past His quivering lips up to His nose that has a drop of blood ready to fall to His chest. then I find them. His eyes. they’re closed. the guilt fills me to the point where I can no longer hold it, out of my mouth spews what is in my heart. with a trembling pain in my voice, “You had no reason to die like this. You must be doing it for someone else. who. and why.” He opened His eyes right on mine. I shuddered, they were empty but at the same time I have never seen such a grey color sparkle, not even a glassy sea of newly fallen snow in the setting sun could sparkle that bright. I asked Him with just my eyes: “me?” He nodded His head.

Just a short story that I wrote over winter retreat. I thought to share it because some may relate to it. I hope you can.

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love woke me up this morning

all that i can it let Him bring me through

I know of a man who lives on the other side
On the other side of this mountain
They say he’s calling the weary home

I’ve been told of a man who lives on the other side
On the other side of this mountain
With a heart full of stories of hope

So run like a vagabond, carry the flame
Run for the children and run for the slaves
Hold it up high with a message of faith
Don’t ever stop moving on
Just run like a vagabond

His book is a gun that he reads for the people
The words that he speaks have been colored illegal
But the law that he’s under is bigger than paper and gowns

He stayed in the streets where the beggars are broken
He’s risking is life, a bullseye in the open
But he won’t stop to rest until he’s reached every town

So run like a vagabond, carry the flame
Run for the children and run for the slaves
Hold it up high with a message of faith
Don’t ever stop moving on
Just run like a vagabond

{vagabond- bethany dillon}

In spite of all the chaos and pain that may surround me right now I seem to keep forgetting my purpose as a human being. to glorify God and enjoy Him.

Ive been redeemed and all that I can say is Hallelujah, whatever is dropped in my lap this should be my cry, my battle cry, and my morning song. my celebration and my dirge.

Ive been made, Im a creature, Im created and with that, Ive been given the ability to be creative. Ive abused this in creating for myself as of late, I just keep validating it by saying Im dealing with a lot, and even though this may be true, Ive been commanded to count it all joy.

He will turning my morning into dancing and my sorrow into joy.

hold onto Him, christian, its all you can do, let Him carry you through it. I need to be saved from myself.

so be joyful christian!

when the sun is hiding it still exists

adios learning express

well this is it. today was my last day of work at the learning express. and yes you will always find the perfect toy.

Its been a treat really this past year and five days. I’ve learned so very much and gained at least one solid friendship.

Im going to miss it immensely. selling toys is way more fun than any other job you could have, you can play games, you can play with kids, you get to wear an apron, and you can curl ribbon until your heart is content.

I will miss people asking me what the new item is, but I hope to keep up my game for as long as I can.

even though my bosses wont read this I do want to give them a little thank you.

You two gave me a wonderful job and you treated me so well, you were kind in your words and lenient in giving me time off. you really are two amazing people and Ive been blessed to have you as my first bosses.  

sometime later I’ll post a “life after learning express” on myself and a few fellow co-workers. that’ll be fun.

for now here are a few “adios l.e.x.” photos from today:

i cant help but wonder

here are some more photos from tonight.

totally frat master. (this is an inside joke.)

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stop this train

I’ve been standing outside this door forever, it being slightly cracked, I have listened and wondered why everyone was so quite. I heard murmurs and every once and awhile someone would speak a little louder, like they knew I was outside the door but had no reason to go to it and invite me in. I can feel my own breath as it comes out of my mouth and ricashays off the old but newly restored door frame, the paint looks new, and fake. I feel like I’m in a hospital and there’s not much of a chance I’ll be leaving healthy.

I look down to see a hole in the door at the bottom, right about where, say a five year old, make have gotten angry and kicked the door wearing roller blades. why hadn’t they fixed that?

While I’m looking down I notice my shoes, holes. my toes slightly poke out of the front. I wiggle them. yes. they still work.

I switch my eyes to my hand, I run my finger across the words I had written the day before on my left, now faded from the constant use of my hands. I slide my ring finger across the top of my right hand, just under my thumb and pointer finger. “engraved, not marred.” I say out loud to reassure myself.

I remember the people in the room and quickly look up to make sure they haven’t tried to make a move I wouldn’t recognize. good, no strange movement. but how much longer am I going to stand here and wait.  so far no one has come to get me and at least three people know I’m here.

then I felt someone bite my shoulder. I decided it better to stay calm and humbly turn around to see my attacker. It’s a king. the king is crying though, for the king has lost all comfort. the king left on a crusade and was sent out with love, prayers, well wishers, and pain. the king met many on the journey, but once the king had returned all these ones that had been met stopped the comfort. because the king no longer needed them, since the king had returned to the place where she had left from. the kings eyes said more than I could take in at once. how could I have anything to say to those eyes? so I whispered something, it was so quiet that I couldn’t even hear it, but the king did.

the king then whispered back, into my brain it seemed, I don’t even think the king said words, but the tears that were still pouring from those eyes said it.

I turned, I pushed the door, by the handle, I even turned the handle. I didn’t need to, the door is open already remember?

I now stand before all the people, they all see me, my skin. but they’re not looking at my shoes, or my shoulders that are turned in, or the band aid on my finger, or my scar on my knee that they think is a bruise. no they’re looking at my tears.

I think quickly about that hole in the door that must be at least thirteen years old, and then a lyric runs through my head, the thing about the lyric is that its incorrect, it is a song but this isn’t what it says, “don’t waste a minute in the shape you’re in” this sounds so much better than what the artist may or may not have written.

I wasted one more minute, but then I let my tears tell all.

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i was walking with a ghost.

another photo adventure: chapter I

I had a wonderful time in the woods the other day with James . I was reminded of how to take pictures of nature again. to look for things instead of have them presented to me.

well here we go.

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so i’m sinking fast like a stone heart should

 

i am not.

that is what i have been taught. i am not and i can not.

i will try, i will be a little blighter and i will push until i cant anymore.

but i can not.

“Here I am
One more day of not
Loving Him the way He asks
In fact my heart is singing praises to the things
that make me feel alright
So I’m sinking fast like a stone heart should
And on the way down
I’ve done what I could
To try and try to turn this stone to flesh

I’m haunted by my God
Who has the right to ask me
What by the nature of my rebellion
I cannot give.

So I beg for you to move
I beg for you to move
I beg for you to break through

So here I am
Got my deeds for the day
All my cute little words about
How I am saved
Am I saved?

Could I love you with my mouth like a church kid should
At the end of the day
My words get burned as wood
Oh, but I was good.

I’m haunted by my God
Who has the right to ask me
What by the nature of my rebellion
I cannot give.

These songs are noise
In your ears
A clanging drum
You want my love”

{beg-shane and shane}

this song is just right for me and what i am dealing with right now. my songs and words are just noise right now. i am not.

the good news here.

HE IS.