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Snow Day

Waiting and watching the snow fall

piling up on bushes and bare tree tops

cars and time begin to crawl

Waiting and watching until the news drops

Anticipation is met with joy

When the news arrives

we know the next few free hours we will enjoy

celebration involves shrieks and high-fives

All of these reactions are similar

whether you are five or seventeen

but how surprise freedom is spent is where they differ

young ones go and play in the billowing snow and gorge themselves on hot coco cuisine

older ones sleep and watch Netflix and procrastinate Sunday night homework

but to those who drive, remember to be safe on the road

is this trip really worth the work?

Drive with caution and keep the pace slowed

While all the school children have a rosy grin

because of the treat of a snow day

Mother Nature granted them a win

and for school to stay away

 

snow-day

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King Jesus

I thought this blog post summed up what Christmas is truly all about and wanted to share it with all of my readers! I like the way Jonathan takes a message from each of Jesus’ visitors.

Jonathan Camac

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Christmas is upon us.

Unfortunately, this news is greeted with mixed emotions in the 21st century. Not least because a modern day Christmas is crazy stuff. It is full throttle. Pedal to the metal. Flying on all cylinders sorta stuff.

And naturally, our priorities are angled towards other things. Amongst the stuff, we tend to drop God down our list of priorities.

In fact, a prevailing view in society today is that Christ has lost relevance. This is a vague objection often blindly asserted in public places. It is this mammoth misconception founded on the belief that because times have changed, we don’t need God anymore.

Hate to be blunt, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

At Christmas we celebrate God putting us at the top of his priority list.

Christmas isn’t our busy lives stepping into God, but God stepping into our busy lives. Identifying with us. Sharing in our sufferings. Showing the deep…

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Oak Tree Memories

As I sit here

in this chair

in my bedroom

(a place I rarely visit except for slumber)

I stare not only at my lap top screen

yet also at my dresser.

Full inside of it are T-shirts

and shorts

and carpi pants

But on top of it,

there lies memories.

When I was younger

I had a collection of Precious Moments figures

little angels and praying boys and dancing girls

I use to call my dresser and the collection my “breakable shelf”

for touch a ceramic figure and it might break.

Is the same true for memories?

Delicate little things

as fragile as a flower

yet as durable as an ancient oak tree

it all depends on the memory

Where are the keys?

When was his birthday?

Did I turn off the curling iron?

Fragile memories

These memories upon my dresser are not fragile memories

they are parts of what make me, me

and so they are oak trees, not fragile flowers.

***

The first oak tree memory

belongs to a sparkling flower necklace charm,

one that was found in playground wood chips

A treasure found where another had lost it

Another oak tree memory

a pair of music box clowns

given to my father

by a great-grandmother that I never met

yet because of her gift, I feel as though I have met her

for her memory lives on in these oak tree memories

More memories:

a shell found on a Lake Superior beach

a miniature elephant made from obsidian from Mexico

a rock from my yard

a key chain from my future college

some unworn superhero wrist bands

a framed picture of my first paycheck

some cutouts of superheroes from cereal boxes

a coffee cup of my grandma’s, who is currently living in Heaven

two angels given to me and my sister at my grandmother’s funeral

some Bible verses written in colorful pens

a Spider-man musical birthday card from last year

These eccentric oak tree memories

make up an eccentric me

and I hope to be

an oak tree

and not a fragile flower.

However, I must remember

that every an oak tree

starts from a teeny tiny, little acorn.

Maybe these oak tree memories

aren’t oak trees at all

maybe they are acorns

and I’m the oak tree.

 

oak-tree-and-sun

Reading to Know You

“Could I talk to you?”

I’ve been locked up for 264-days.

The train station at Pebbleton, dark and sooty though it was, glistened in the mist.

The world might be sunny-side up today.

It was a little after midnight when Lance McKendrick left his tiny bedroom in Max Dalton’s New Jersey base and padded barefoot through the corridors and out into the base’s large garage.

I am an hourglass.

These are all the first sentences in books that are, or have been, my favorite books.

This was before I knew the characters

who I now love

this was before I knew their fears,

loves,

goals,

and failures.

This was before I meet some of my closest friends

and also people who I would never like to meet.

These words were the first judgement I made about the characters,

not their appearance, voice, or reputation.

In books,

it is so strange because I am reading to know people.

It doesn’t matter that they are made out of ink and paper

or caffeine inspired imagination.

What matter is that these people, these characters,

live and breathe in my heart.

That is were it counts.

With each word written I get to know the character

better

and better.

But their lives do not come to a stopping halt

when the last period is placed

and the finally page is turned.

They continue to live on in my heart.

That is were it counts.

“Why?”

I’m ready.

After all he had accomplished, and considering how much he had learned and how far he had come, it is a curious fact — indeed, a remarkable one — that what Nicholas wanted now, more than anything, was to get started.

And I’m leaving my gloves behind.

“He’s human,” Lance said. “And it’s about time he understood what being human really means.”

“I can’t wait to watch them try.”

first-page

 


Books in order of lines:

Dying to Know You by Aidan Chambers

Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

The Extraordinary Education of Nicholas Benedict by Trenton Lee Stewart

Unravel Me by Tahereh Mafi

Hunter by Michael Carroll

Ignite Me by Tahereh Mafi