A Christmas Poem

I need a poem

that shakes my busy soul

that worms its way through my brain

that stirs me to be kind.

I need a poem

that fills this page with verse

that touches hearts with peace

that shares a love that binds.

We need a poem

that sets our spirit free

that wraps our space with good

that aligns with God each face.

We have a poem

that baby Jesus born

that day when God ordained

that baptized us in grace.

Look Now or You'll Miss It!

There's something about the color of a fall day that is indescribable. Every demographic has its own display. Some venues boldly flash trendy seasonal outfits while others silently remain on the sidelines, unnoticed by most but captivating to the few who pause to gaze at the quiet beauty. Florida fall is like that. It slips up on you and then slips away before most know it to exist. The slant of light, the flash of goosebumps across the arms, the gold of  cypress, all say autumn is here, but you better look now.

They're already selling Christmas trees at Lowes. The marketers are pushing us quickly to the Yule Tide season without a bit of respect for the turkey, pumpkin pie, mash potatoes or stuffing of Thanksgiving. Days speed by into weeks so fast we'll be watching the ball drop in a flash. Is there something going on I don''t know about? Did the world start spinning faster while I was staring at the water?

 

Let us then pursue what makes for peace and for mutual understanding. Romans 14:19

Peace. Love, Linda 

Thoughts about fear... It's Highly Over Rated.

This thought has been running around my brain for about a week and a half. I've wanted to write about it, but it's so important that I don't think I'm qualified. It's been written about for centuries, but in spite of  Biblical advice to the contrary, tales of doom and woe have prevailed for centuries, and mankind has sought out not comfort, but strife, not peace, but fear, missing what I believe every soul truly desires, often without knowing it-perfect love.

Years ago when I was about the age of my granddaughter, Bella Grace, I remember walking across the front lawn of the Old Christian Church on Kentucky Avenue. I couldn't stand to be inside any more because I felt so ill I thought I might vomit. Mama quietly got up and followed me out of the church with concern. I didn't have to tell her what was wrong. She just knew. I was frightened to, not death, but illness by the hell fire and second coming message of the visiting preacher. Mama comforted me and reminded me of my verse she had taught me to shield off fear, "What time I am afraid I will trust in Thee." She talked about uninportant things and got my mind off the message still swirling around the sanctuary, and soon my breathing eased. I realized I was O.K. for the moment, but the fear lingered and the words haunted me for days.

I remember another fearful event, I was in third grade, and I was not allowed to watch Theater X because it gave me bad dreams and sleepless nights, but I went to the neighbor's house and watched pods being put under beds and hidden in houses and people falling asleep only to be cloned into some creature that replaced them. I couldn't sleep that night, so I went into Mama and Daddy's bedroom and just stood by the door knowing I would be in trouble if Daddy knew I watched a scary show. Being in trouble by Daddy was not about spankings. It was just about causing him displeasure. That was enough punishment for me and one I worked hard to avoid. Daddy woke up, as he always did when I stood quietly by their bed, and immediately knew I had watched a scary movie. Instead of comforting me, he threatened to spank me and told me to go back to my room. I was crushed and so badly frightened. I finally fell asleep from heavy tears and exhaustion. The movie haunted me for days and especially at night.

I could write several personal tales of fear. Some could have or had dire consequences while others were due to an overblown imagination. It doesn't matter. The feeling of fear is the same from bad dreams to scary movies to cancer to physical threats, and on and on. The physical feelings of fear are intensely uncomfortable, yet humans are drawn to them like a moth to a flame. Why is that?
There's a phrase I love used over and over throughout the Old Testament, "Be strong and courageous."
We are also reminded to, "Fear not, for lo I am with you always." In the Bible,we are encouraged often not to worry. I love the verse in Psalms that states succinctly, "Do not fret; it only leads to evil."

If New Testament Christians believe in the Bible in its entirety,why are so many "Christian" leaders in both church and media pandering fear to manipulate congregations and viewers? What ever happened to "Whatsoever things are lovely and of good report?" Something is out of balance, and it appears that fear mongers drawn to the physical addiction, to the feeling of fear and understanding deeply mankind's love-hate relationship with fear, are deliberately pushing us to the brink of fearful outcomes that have been speculated upon for centuries. I can't make the connections of their behavior to the God  I know and love so deeply, who gave his only son for the world.  Those voices toll bad report and doom, annihilation and hatred. I understand that all encompassing energy force I call God, to be love, and I believe, if I remember correctly,  "Perfect love casts out fear."

Fear of darkness  is a perception that can be changed with one new thought. God casts out fear.

Peace. Love, Linda

Goodby September

There is no other month quite like September with its fresh light and blooming trees, yellow and purple and the greens the deepest greens before they turn or, as they often do in  Florida, just fall.

It is fall, you know, the temperature hasn't figured it out, yet, but the sky has and the young mocking birds have because they've started singing again, only this time it's fall songs, not spring.




The clouds know it's fall because they've kicked up their drama,
more decks and wisps and stacks and swirls. The sheep have returned in puffs of white. They know it's fall. The flocks return in September.

 

The water knows it's fall catching it and throwing it back, hitting me in the eye reminding me to pay tribute to this month I love so much, but somehow neglected this time around, too busy to give it its due. Good-by September I said to the sky this morning when I woke and walked out on the driveway with camera in hand. Good-by September I said to the open sky today as the bike breached the top of my favorite 429 hill, the one that takes me to far away places with bigger hills and maybe even mountains. Good-by September I said to the moon this evening as I closed the car door and looked up to see a handsome sky with just a sliver of moon cheese cut off for the children, shining so brightly on this last day of the month.

There's little left but a purple number 30 on the erasable calendar and a purple SEPTEMBER across the top waiting for a paper towel and 31 new numbers and OCTOBER. There's not much left but to finish this blog and send it to Facebook and catch at least half of the 10:00 news, and 12:01 will come while I sleep. In the morning, I'll rise to a new month and a new day for which I'm thankful, but it won't be September.

Peace. Love, Linda

Sunday Morning Grace

Breathing in then out slowly as I type on my laptop, sitting in a leather chair in an air cooled house, peaceful, quiet, that's grace. Sunday morning grace. I just came in from the back porch after my cup of hot coffee with cream where I watched the sun rise in a cloud painted sky. The first birds of daybreak sang gently, and the air held a hint of something other than full summer, but not enough to chill. That's Sunday morning grace.

There is an abundance of grace surrounding, encompassing, infusing us all, free for the taking.  I wish I knew why we often refuse to let it come into us, fill us, set us free. Maybe if it were in a tablet form or diet plan we would buy into it more fully. Maybe we sometimes don't love ourselves enough to let us be consumed by it. I don't know the answer to that. I do know grace is the solution to all problems.

Thank you, God, on this Sunday morning for your infinite, amazing grace. I love you.

According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I lay a foundation, and someone else builds on it. I Corinthians 3:10

Peace. Love, Linda

September Light

 

September Light

There’s a September light

on things.

New slant,

sharper angles,

yet gentler.

Weather may fall

into gray,

but the change

is welcome.

Linda Oliverio

I pull my September poem out this time of year because the beauty of the changing light hits me fresh every September, and I am thankful.

Peace. Love, Linda

Thoughts on the Temple

For some reason, this morning while I sat and drank my coffee on the back porch before the rush of the day, I began thinking about temples. The word temple conjures up, for me, a holy place of worship. Today when acts of violence and hate break through the barriers of all that's holy and invade the sanctuary of someone's temple, it strikes even the somewhat callous of heart with a twinge or a shiver. It appears some don't view a place of worship as sacred. What's inside a temple means nothing to them, or worse yet, brings forth actions of hate and revenge. In the words of my old neighbor across the street on Live Oak Blvd., "That's not what God intended."

Stories about temples fill the Old Testament. King David longed to build a temple for God, but for several reasons you can read about on a rainy day, his son was given the honor of building God's house. The Old Testament seems very concrete to me. This is fragmented. I'll move on.

The New Testament began a new era. Curtains were torn; Christ's blood was shed; a remarkable resurrection took place. It was a time of enlightenment led by the "Son of God" and his followers. Many were skeptical, but obviously, the message was full of strength and longevity. After that, much of the talk moved from concrete to abstract. I think that's why we may have a hard time discussing freely and deeply all of the New Testament, and it appears, at least to me, that we pull many of our strongest arguments from the Old Testament. I Corinthians 3:16 states, "Don't you know that you  yourselves are God's temple and that God's Spirit lives in you?" Now that changes everything.

 I don't have answers. I'm just thinking about temples.

A Moment

The morning sun beat on the white concrete of the parking lot. Invisible moisture rose up from the ground to meet the sky, pulling out poofy skirts preparing for the afternoon rain dance. Jason made a Sportster into a trike in bay 1204, fulfilling a dying man's desire to ride in the wind again, while Travis pulled stubborn wires through new handlebars in the bay where I ran the vacuum in spider webbed corners, sucking up dust and grease and small bits of motorcycle shop.

I finished vacuuming and wrapped up the extension cord. A large box lay on the rubber mat at the front of the shop waiting to be broken down for the recycle can. I got out my razor knife and began chopping up cardboard. I picked up the pieces and headed outside. After pushing open the black lid and leaning it against the building, I shoved stiff paper into the can. The expression "sweating like a pig" perfectly described my state. The sun hit my back with burning intensity. I stopped, still in my tracks, feeling the sweat, the sun, the heat, life. It felt good, and I said thank-you.

"Be still and know that I am God." Psalms 46: 10

Funny Dreams

Last night I had a most unusual series of dreams. They have since faded from my  memory somewhat, but I still remember vividly some strange details. I was walking down the stairs, who knows how I got "up", of a rickety, church balcony. I think, I'm not sure why, it was the Methodist church. There were only a few people scattered in the dark, dusty auditorium. I was moving closer to the front, I assume, when I walked past a large, dark woman. Something about her caught my eye, so I stopped in my path to talk to her. She turned to look at me, and it was Oprah Winfrey. I said to her, "I'm glad to see you here. I just want to say how thankful I am for all the good you've done for so many,  including my family." I'm not sure exactly what she's done for my family, but in  my dream it sounded quite all right to say. I then picked up her hand and kissed it. She looked at me strangely and pulled her hand away. I said, "Oh, I didn't mean to frighten you. I just wanted to compliment you because you speak with authority." She relaxed and said, "I like that."

I moved down the stairs, I think to be closer to the stage for some kind  of choir event,  when I was suddenly no longer in the dusty, old church. I was in a very large bathroom with a tub and a big window. I looked out the window and saw a tornado coming directly towards us. I say "us" because my daddy was in the room with me, and I believe Mama was, too. I said to them we need to get into the bath tub, the tornado is coming. Daddy just wandered around the bathroom, and I couldn't relay to them my urgency. I don't remember anything after that. I'm not sure why I feel compelled to write out my dream, but it does seem to be somewhat entertaining, so I'll leave it at that. I could end with this, "May all your dreams come true." Whoever said that did not remember their dreams. I hope you have a most remarkable day!
Peace. Love, Linda

My Friends

When I don't sit down and write a blog for awhile, I start to miss it. I call it "Dear Friends," but I think it's become my friend. I don't really know when someone reads it unless they comment, but I've read a report and seen a map that lets me know its been read as far north as Alaska. I wonder if someone sat at a computer on a bitterly, cold winter night and warmed up a bit by one of my writings. Hmmm... I like that thought.

Sometimes, I just sit and write, while other times I ponder a  thought for days before it spills onto the computer. I'm sure that's evident to the reader, but maybe not. I don't hear much from readers. That's fine with me. I just feel compelled to put out "lovely thoughts," as Mama would say. Every thought has energy and power. I understand that better now than I ever have before in my life. That's why Jesus said if you think something, you've done it already. He understood thoughts. It's funny that we can say we believe in the power of prayer but not be vigilant with our thoughts. Another Hmmm... I'll be right back. I have to put a load of wash in the dryer. I'm back.

This week at the shop was so packed full of coincidence and thoughts manifesting into actions that I can't  help but reflect on the mystery of it. This morning, our customer, Craig, came into the shop with his Harley to get a tire. He jokingly said, "I've come to get my Gold Wing tire." We kid him because he has lots of lights on his bike like many Gold Wings do. The Dunlop I ordered was not the right size, something I rarely do, but I saved the day because I had a tire of greater value for the same price I could offer Craig sitting on my tire rack. It was the OEM front tire for a Gold Wing.

That was just one of many stories I could share from this week. Some fun stories and others, not so much, but all of them remind me to pick and choose the thoughts I wish to dwell on, wisely.

But Jesus, perceiving their thoughts, said, "Why do you think evil in your hearts?" Matthew 9: 4
Hmmm...

Peace. Love, Linda

The Glory of the Lord

When I look at the sky’s beauty, I sometimes imagine the melodic voices of my high school chorus, traveling through years of winters singing, "And the glory of the Lord."  What comes next? "Shall be revealed." 

Seven-fold Amen.

Peace. Love, Linda 

Confidence

Isn't he handsome? Or is he a she? Such style and grace on the runway, such confidence in the stride. The long graceful neck is carried with dignity. I like that in a bird! Have a great week! Stride with pride.
(the good kind...)
Peace and smiles. Love, Linda

The Cluster

The cluster stood as silhouettes against a setting sun. They were watching a small group of manatees lolling in the water, captured voluntarily by a sandbar. The manatees had no fear of the cluster. They appeared to enjoy their company shown by an occasional fin lift, a flap or a roll. They stayed secure even as the cluster grew; I liked to believe it was by choice.

I stood on the outskirts of the cluster with my camera in hand trying to snap photos of a setting sun on Gulf waters, trite, but oh so beautiful. I watched the sea creatures, once believed to be mermaids, and I wondered how any one ever made that mistake. They appeared friendly, one of the reasons I love the Gulf of Mexico, it's most often, friendly. It shares its treasures more generously, and more of the tame make themselves evident on the gulf than on the Atlantic side of the state. I breathed the salt air and dug my toes into the sand. The magnetic pull of the tide drew more silhouettes into the cluster. 

 

A peaceful end to the day. Only God could make a cluster so beautiful.

Peace. Love, Linda

Things Are Going Well

It was squally, complements of Debby. If you live in Florida, you  know that means the wind is gusty, and the rain blows sideways, first one direction, then another. The intensity varies. I was driving to the bank when a red PT Cruiser passed me on the right. I read the bumper sticker in the middle of the back window, "If something can go well, it will." I'm not sure if it was because of the meditative music I was listening to or the fact that I had just been talking to God, but the refreshingly positive bumper sticker lifted my spirits higher. It reminded me of Mama's voice saying, "Think lovely thoughts." That directly correlates with faith. I feel so positively about it that I am not going to even mention the counter position. It gets far too much press already. Enjoy the day!

For in Him, everyone of God's promises is a "Yes." 2 Corinthians 1:20

Peace. Love, Linda

Cicadas

The cicadas hum  rises and falls in the oaks, and a lonely mourning dove coo coo coos in the distance. I'm still, and the sound takes me back to a country road in Southern Ohio. I'm just a young girl of maybe six on a bicycle peddling as hard as I can trying to go up a hill to a place where I think a picnic waits. The foliage is dense on the roadside, and the smell of earth and green and damp fill the air. My lungs labor and my plumb legs tremble, but I think I made it to the top of the hill and rode down the other side to years later.

I'm in the nursery in the sweltering, hot afternoon. Sweat is running in my eyes and the soft skin on my arms burn from the cutting sawgrass blades and salt. I'm loading a truck with flats of plants, shipping them out to reclaim the earth. Sometimes I burst into song to break the monotony. The work is hard, but it feels good somehow, satisfying. The shady oaks bring relief, but only a little, and the sound of the cicadas rise and fall. The truck fills up and the ground empties. I hear the whir rise and fall, rise and fall. The truck fills up and drives down the dirt road, turning left on the highway heading for the future.

The cicadas hum rises and falls, and a lonely mourning dove coos in the distance; I'm still. I close my eyes and the soft sound of the whirring cicadas take me into the presence of God dropping me off on His porch for awhile. Rise and fall. Rise and fall. Rise and fall.

The Lord is faithful in all his words, and gracious in all his deeds. The Lord upholds all who are falling, and raises up all who are bowed down. Psalms 145:14

Peace. Love, Linda

An Apple in the Hand

I'm sitting on a black couch with a red apple in hand. I'm just about ready to bite down. I  know when I do the peeling will crack open when my teeth break the skin. The juice, if I'm lucky, will  flow out so fast I'll catch a sweet dribble on my chin. I'll cup it just right so the drip will run down into my hands and not on my shirt. I'll rip the piece of crisp Gala apple off home base with my teeth and begin to chew. That is, if I decide to eat the apple just as it sits in my hand. I could do other things with my apple.

I could bake a pie, cake, cookie, sauce, dumplings, fritter, turn-over, jelly, or candy. I could dip it in a red cinnamon coating or douse it in caramel. I could put it on a stick or stick it in a dip. I think my point is clear. Apples are versatile, flexible, usable, hearty, healthy, wholesome, special, just because they're apples. I have an apple in my hand. It's like me in God's hand. I'm an apple...or am I the chef, the baker, the candy maker?
I am both. "What is impossible for mortals is possible for God." Luke 18:27

 You can see what I did with my apple. It was delicious.

 Peace. Love, Linda

Light

It's raining buckets right now, and the light is dim. I don't mind because we need the rain desperately. I'm thankful. It's making a cool splashing sound on the pool deck as it flows off the roof. A croaking frog is singing by the front porch. They're all down with the wet change in weather. It's evident in their choral eruptions.

I'm writing about rain right now, but that's not the thought lurking around in my mind. The thread is light, the word light, the thought light, the concept light. "Let your light so shine before men." "I am the light of the world." "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine." "Boom. Boom. Out go the lights." "Where were you when the lights went out? In the dark."

There's a darkness that prescribes itself as light. Be careful. Light glows; it permeates; it warms; it springs forth color. It's fluid. It's satisfying. It's growth producing. It's natural."For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light." John 3:20-21. Come to the light. It's where freedom resides.

 

Peace. Love, Linda

Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow

In the calm of early morning, I sit with my coffee on the back porch and watch the new day sun crawl up the side of the house to the top of the oak tree. At that time, the sand hill cranes that roost at night on the lake shore not far from home raise their voices. I used to think it was their morning "ra-ra" meeting before they divide into families to fly out and forage for food, but this morning, I changed my mind.

The May light, a soft breeze, and the choir of song bird solo's, duets, and trio's melded with my thankful heart. That's when I changed my mind about the cranes. Now, I like to think they start their day, like the rest of the birds, with a chorus of praise and acceptance of God's plan for their day.

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise Him all creatures here below."

Peace. Love, Linda

A Peculiar Observance

There is something that I have observed more than once that is peculiar to me. It's like a theme running throughout a story that is craftily woven so you can only, really see it when it peaks above the surface from time to time. You can only, then, pounce on it and say, "Aha!" Otherwise, it slips back beneath the surface weaving its unseen magic into the tale at hand. I've spoken of this matter before when I wrote the blog entitled, "Whimsical Led Us to the Clouds."  In that blog, I shared about an early morning conversation about the word "whimsical" and how the day ended with a whimsical session of cloud watching. I just recently had another such occurrence, and it doesn't seem to be accidental. I think it's thematic and serendipitous. That sounds serious.

Darren and I were in the car going to Waterford Lakes with my mother-in-law when the discussion came up about my being a "dream crusher." It's Darren's way of describing me when I put a slow down or nix on something at the shop because I keep the books and pay the bills. We make a great team with his dreams and expansive nature and my practical side, but he still feels better calling me "Dream Crusher" when I disappoint. I found myself that very same evening sitting at the table with my mother-in-law bursting her bubble conversing about an assistant living home that was courting her for her business, leading her to believe things that I knew could not be true, or I knew she had possibly only heard what she wanted to hear. In the middle of my discussion with her, I could hear myself talking and could see her face transform from shining hope to sad resignation. Our earlier conversation in the car came to me, and there I was once again the "Dream Crusher." Sometimes reality bites, but for some reason, I prefer it. It feels comfortable. However, not everyone is so inclined. As for the peculiar observance, I don't know what it is about words and how they can weave there way throughout a day affecting events, but I think it's significant, and I'm sticking to that.

And on a different note, the pouring rain outside is wonderful! Thank you, God, for the rain on dry, dry land.
This pictures seems fitting to my tale.                                     Peace. Love, Linda

I've Had My Turn, and I Know Your Pain

I want to write about things that take place in my home lately, but it seems too much to share. Not because it's morbid or disgusting but because at times it's painfully ordinary. I don't let it get to me much, but I hear the sadness coming from an aging voice speaking over the phone in the back bedroom asking a man who is speaking in numbers today and pushing chairs back and forth in the cafeteria because he must finish his work, " Do you love me Sweet Pea?" She hasn't figured it out, yet, that Sweet Pea no longer knows he's Sweet Pea. He's gone to a place that sometimes mixes love and hate into a brown mess and deposits it inappropriately. It's sad. I'm not so much affected by it now as when Mama wandered in a world none of us could visit because all the keys were lost. I begged God much and shed so many tears for her that it gave me a shot in the arm that bolsters me up for these kinds of things, possibly for the rest of my living days, but even still, sometimes it's very sad to witness. I guess "I'm just sayin'" to you who know what I speak of, I've had my turn, and I know your pain.

My child, help your father in his old age, and do not grieve him as long as he lives; 

even if his mind fails, be patient with him; 

because you have all your faculties, do not despise him

 for your kindness will not be forgotten. 

Sirach 3:12-14

Peace. Love, Linda

Sometimes, You Gotta' Scratch

  

Remember when you were little, and you stepped into a red ant bed running around in the yard or playing hide-and-seek ? (Yes, I'm over 50!) Late at night, after the bath, you were sitting on the floor watching "The Amazing Kreskin" (I think that's how you spell it.) and the red bumps raised up in front of your very eyes and became little white bumps. You started to pick at the tops of the little blisters, and without warning a terrible itch just started crawling in your skin and you just had to scratch it. As soon as you started digging into the already irritated bites, a grown up voice came from one or both parents that said, "Don't scratch that. It'll get infected." After that  you made clandestine tiny swipes at the bites, but you didn't do any real scratching until you were alone in  your room, under the sheets. Then you were free to scratch. The worst thing I remember about an itch like that is that scratching only beget more scratching, and those things really did get infected! What's the message here? I don't know for sure, but I know this, sometimes, you just gotta' scratch!

Birds

We were pulling into the driveway this evening after having dinner with Nik for her 30th birthday when I noticed two small boys and a young woman gazing up the oak tree in our yard by the road. I parked the car and walked down the driveway to ask what they were seeing; the young woman replied,  "That bird up there. He looks like someones pet. He just flew up there." I looked up, and there was a beautiful cockatiel looking down at us. I had a cockatiel named "Bud" once, and he loved to be talked to, so I said,"Hello. Hello. Hello," with the same high pitch voice each time to create a repetitive sound. The colorful bird bent his head back and forth listening intently. Then, he flew down to the garbage can next to me. I put out my hand, and he stepped right on to it and went immediately up my arm to my ear for my earring. I could tell the young woman and the boys wanted the bird, so I passed it gently to her to take home. She said she would put up signs in the neighborhood to see if someone owned the bird;if her mother would not let her keep it, she told me she would bring it back to me.

I did not take a picture of the bird, and the pictures of birds in this blog are not that bird. All the same, they are birds, and birds are amazing creatures. I'm not obsessive about watching birds, but I am very much aware of them in my surroundings. Today, I felt tired and a bit harried after working long hours in the yard. I walked to the back to throw away more yard trash when I spotted an osprey soaring above the field behind the house. It's effortless motion stopped me in my tracks, and I felt an instant of calm. Birds can be annoying because they do poop in places that are sometimes inconvenient like on cars, laundry or shoulders, but I can't imagine the immense void in my life if they were gone. Thank you God, for the birds.

Green

What if it weren't green? What would the repercussions of that creative decision be? On the cusp of Easter with a full moon at our backs, we can look at a fresh new world tomorrow morning and be reminded of renewal, life, growth and vitality. It's called green. It's in the bushes, grasses, trees, and vines. It infuses our eyes and then our thoughts with the word, smell and feel of spring. It's green. But what if it weren't green? What else could it possibly be? Green, my friends, is the creative work of perfection.

Zoom In!

My niece, Jill, was in high school, and being especially Jill, her stories of the day often had an unusual twist. She was in love, at the time, with Eric Estrada from C.H.I.P.S., and one day coming home on the school bus, she just knew she saw him zooming by on Fortune Road on a shiny motorcycle. She was ecstatic as she described seeing him, and I asked her, "Jill, what did you do when you saw him ride by?" She replied, "I pulled down my window and  yelled out to him, 'Welcome to Florida!'" You had to be there. She zoomed in, and  in her mind, she saw Eric Estrada in the flesh just minutes from her house. The moment brought us all a light heart and laughter; perception IS everything.

Life is fluid, and we move quickly through the construct we call time. To  infinity, the length of our all important life is neither a breath nor a sigh. That's not a depressing thought but a reminder to zoom in on life and look at things more closely to see what beauty or intrigue we might be missing. And while we're at it, especially zoom in on our own motives. They're all too easily overlooked.

Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, "The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, 'Look, here it is!' or 'There it is!' For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you."
Luke 17:20-21.

Peace. Love, Linda

FRESH

Hey, do you want old fish?        

How's that stale cereal working for you?

Who wants a piece of moldy bread?

I like my lettuce limp and wilted.

Really? 

No, not really.

I like my lettuce FRESH!

Spring is especially FRESH, and green is a FRESH color.

But FRESH doesn't happen just in the spring.

FRESH HAPPENS EVERY DAY.

Be renewed in the spirit of your minds. Ephesians 4: 23

Peace. Love, Linda