My Cup of Tea

I came back from a quick trip to Oregon to see my Japanese cousin and was reminded of an unpleasant incident. It had happened four years ago. There I was dressed to the hilt for high tea. Of course I wanted to make an impression on my cousin's future in-laws.

I sat down at a table where every woman was a stranger to me. I politely introduced myself and listened to conversations around me. I did not venture to throw out my opinions; I did not want to rock the boat. I was going to be a perfect lady for once in my life even if it took every ounce of strength, determination and focus I had in me, but every time I try to be normal something abnormal happens. I don't know why this has become a pattern in my life. I still can't figure it out.

Since I was hardly talking I thought I could concentrate on doing something simple like fixing a cup of tea. How hard is that? I wondered. I poured the hot water in the delicate tea cup and soaked the tea leaves. I didn't spill a drop. So far so good, I mused to myself. I added the sugar to taste and sipped it very ladylike. Miss Manners would have been proud.

Males were verboten, but had my cousin been there to witness my behavior he would not have been able to find fault with me. At this point I felt pretty confident. Ah, but I had forgotten that "pride goes before a fall."

Next to my pretty little tea cup was a beautifully shaped creamy swan. It felt cold and hard to the touch. White chocolate! Yum!

Now this is where I parted with elegant decorum: I popped the whole thing in my mouth and began to gag. The table went silent as every woman in the room fixed her gaze on me.

It was butter! What could I do? I couldn't spit it out on the napkin--that would be gross so I did the next best thing...I swallowed it. Of course I had to drink it down with something so I grabbed my tea cup and began gulping. Hang the ladylike behavior: my reputation was ruined anyway!

What was the benefits of such unbridled behavior besides everything I ate going down smoother? No matter how many times the ladies filled my tea cup, I had tiny drops of oil, I mean, butter floating on top.

It was a nightmare. I do not have fond memories of that tea.

So here I was four years later visiting the same people I had previously so infamously behaved. What did they bring up? What fond memories did they rekindle? Not the glorious wedding that took place the very next day...no, it was the butter incident. I broke the ice that day and fell in but no one thought the worse of me. I guess after four years I had acquitted myself.

My advice to inquiring minds is simply this: always lick before you pop something in your mouth!

A Discovery!

In order for this blog to make any sense to you: I beg, entreat, and implore you to read the article "It Happened One Night" (dated May 24th).

I must warn you that the following is borderline. I know I said this is a "G-rated" blog but this may be an exception to the rule. If you are of a delicate nature it may be better for you to skip this one!

My friend from the blog Not A Desperate Housewife made the following comment. In order for this to flow in a logical manner I thought I would color coordinate it. My friend's replies shall be in pink and mine shall be in green.

That had me ROTFLMAO - and I don't mean my donkey! Too funny.

I'm glad you enjoyed it. Now this old fogie has a question of you since your generation is hip on techno lingo. Remember, I used sticks and stones to play with when I was little. What in tarnation is ROTFLMAO? (It was at this point I wanted to say, "What in bloody !@#$%^&* is ROTFLMAO? but I restrained myself and used a tamer word.)

Sorry. ROTFLMAO = rolling on the floor laughing my ass (there's that awful word again: I fear it is my nemesis) off. Sometimes people will also just say it parts.

LMAO = laughing my ass off
ROTFL/ROFL = rolling on (the) floor laughing
LOL = laugh out loud

Now I understood! Often I would receive LOL as comments on my emails from friends. I thought I was hysterically funny and all they said was LOL. I thought that meant "lots of love." Heck, I didn't want affection, I wanted to make them laugh.

Young people do not despair: it is possible for those of us born in the stone age to actually learn something. See how useful it is to know what ROTFLALMAO means? I wonder who invented it? I wonder if anyone can create a new abbreviation in the literary pantheon known as text messaging and blogging? Has a dictionary been published to describe this new life form in metamorphosis? May I add something? I'm oozing with creative juices. How about this: ITYAIBIDKHTCOAATY? Since I just created it, I must be the expert in translating it. Do not try and figure it out: I am not an obvious person. Here is the direct interpretation--"I think you are insane but I don't know how to come out and actually tell you."

What power lies in the ability to create? A whole new realm I had never known has opened before me. "To boldly go where no man has gone before..."

A Pub Like No Other

"Your standing in it!" the young man at the bar replied to my polite inquiry.

I turned around and began to notice the obvious pictures on the wall. Yep, this is where it happened only it was nothing like my imagination had painted. What a tiny room! I thought to myself. It could not have measure more than eight feet across and ten from side to side. There was C.S. Lewis's photograph hanging on the wall near the little fireplace. No crackling cheery fire to greet us; just a soggy day in Oxford.

"Well since it's 1:00 already, let's order something to eat," I suggested to my companions. I scanned the menu and nothing looked familiar. We aren't in Kansas anymore, Toto, I mused.

Something caught my eye. Ah, mushrooms. In honor of J.R.R. Tolkien, whose portrait also graced the room, I thought I would order the mushroom pepper pot.

"What in the world is that?" asked my friend. "I haven't a clue but let's be adventurous." So for the love of hobbits and Tolkien, I boldly ordered as if I had been going to the pub for years and nodding to bring on my favorite feast.

"We've got to drink a pint. Here we are in jolly ole England and it would be a crime to come so far and neglect them, " I looked at Tolkien and Lewis solemnly. Their portraits stared back unsmilingly or did my imagination detect a slight gleam of approval in their eyes?

The food was sizzling and the dark beer's foam was just about to trickle down the sides when we clinked our glasses. "To Tolkien and Lewis!"

We sat a whole hour there listening to tour groups come and go; shyly taking photos and politely excusing themselves.

"We'll be late if we don't take off to Magdalen College now and we may not have time to see The Kilns," I said. "The rain has tapered off now," my friend observed.

I gave one last glance of farewell as I left the room. How I wish I had been there on those cozy nights when Lewis, Tolkien and the other Inklings were reading their stories without the slightest notion that their works would become famous. They were like boys sharing their fairy stories: The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings.

The pathos of the moment was that I was fifty years too late to experience their camaraderie. Just a tiny insignificant room in a small pub in an English city but in it were minds that had shaped our world.

I sighed and a feeling of satisfaction laced with longing rose inside me. At long last a cherished dream had been fulfilled. I came, I saw and was conquered.

It Happened One Night

I was a bad girl last night. It happened at church and during a Bible study while other tables filled with serious people were praying. I was perfectly sane and serious for 95% of the evening but then something happened. I don't know if the "spirit of mischief" thing came on me or my twisted imagination took hold or the magma of my sick Far Side sense of humor rose unexpectedly to the surface but it affected every woman at my table.

Okay, now that I've set the table let me dish out the facts: a lady asked me a simple question knowing that I had gone to Bible college and had prepared for ministry. She hoped earnestly that I knew the answer and this was the question she asked verbatim, "Do you remember the name of the guy in the Bible who tied his ass to a tree and then walked a mile?"

I leaned forward across the table and affirmed, "I've read the Bible cover to cover three times in my life and I have never read that before."

She repeated her question and I looked at her blankly. "Samson carried a town gate on his shoulders and walked away with it but that's the closest I know of anyone doing something like that in Scripture."

Now she looked at me blankly. I thought she had asked the most illogical question I had ever heard. Here comes the punch line: I said, "Besides, how could someone walk with his ass, I mean, his butt tied to a tree?" I said it sincerely, I was not trying to be funny. That is the way I heard and actually saw the question.

Women began to laugh in hysteria and wipe tears from their eyes while other people intent on entreating God were being challenged by our disruption. I began to laugh because everyone else was doing it and it was sort of catching. Then she gasped out between giggles, "No, I was talking about his donkey!"

That's when I lost it. My Far Side imagination took over and I was almost hyperventilating. When this starts happening, I'm the person they have to escort out of the building.

Proverbs 17:22 says, "A cheerful heart is good medicine." Well, we got our full dosage last night that's for sure!

The Good Fight

I love a good fight. Oh, I don't mean Rocky, or WWF or a husband and wife going at it; I mean Band of Brothers, Lord of the Rings kind of thing where the odds are stacked up against you. Now I think the Spartans holding off the Persians at Thermopylea was awesome (and no, I haven't seen 300 yet!) but they all died in the end and winning and coming through it is the key.

I think more than anything it is the bond that happens during the thick of battle that draws me. Doolittle's Raiders and E-company of 101th Airborne division meet year after year as I suppose many from "the greatest generation" do.

I think the scene that encapsulates it all for me is the one in The Return of the King where the four hobbits meet at the pub and everyone is impressed with the small happenings of the day and they all silently make eye contact and drain their pints. Everything in Hobbiton has remain the same: they are the ones who have changed.

Paul said it this way toward the end of his life, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." 2 Tim. 4:7. I hope to say so as well one day.

VIKINGS REBORN

Men of Rohan, in you the Vikings are reborn.
To hear the pounding hooves of your steeds and horns

is to strike fear in any heart of darkness
trembling with fear in all of its starkness.

In the midst of battle caution you fling.
You fight with a lust that finds voice as you sing.

The glimpse of the conqueror is found in you.
Song of the North-wind, its breezes are true.

Echoes of Rohan fills us with delight.
We shiver with thrills from Valhalla’s height.

WAR’S SYNCOPATION

There’s a pause at the start of a battle…
a gathering of your breath
a tighter grip on your sword.
It is only a moment of stillness
but it can be felt by all.
It is like a running current under your feet
the beating heart of every man
to the sound of war’s syncopation.

TO CONQUER

The sky will weep its tears…
The earth will heal its scars--
over the ground of Helm’s Deep
the end of evil to mar.

The power of the wind to carry the stench away.
The dispelling of the night to bring a dawning day.
The marching of the Orcs
drowned out by marching trees.

Destroyers of the land…
destroyed is what you’ll be.
The power of Iluvatar to heal and to restore
is given to the earth to conquer as before.

Masterpiece

I tend to be a critical person. It is something I am aware of and working on. I’ve learned through hard lessons not to judge people, but nothing stopped me from directing that propensity inwardly. I was much harder on myself than others.

One day I was in the midst of berating myself when a picture came to my mind. Some people might call this a vision, or a drama played out in one’s head. You may say it is a work of the imagination. I simply believe it was from God.

I saw an artist’s studio during the time of the Renaissance. A young man walked up to a canvas that had been covered and flipped it over. He looked at the art work and began to critique it. The background was finished and revealed a beautiful countryside. The shape of a person was in the foreground but only the outline. I heard him criticize the painting, then leave.

I thought it was unfair of the young man to do. The painting wasn’t finished yet, and until it was, no one had the right to berate the artist’s work. The painting in progress was the Mona Lisa, worth millions in the future.

I realized at that moment I had committed the same offense. God was trying to show me that I was a masterpiece in the making and that He was the Master Painter. Whenever I’d cut myself down or judged others harshly it reflected on Him.

The Bible puts it this way…“Judge nothing before its time.” I Cor. 4:5 (NIV) When is the right time? In reference to our lives, I believe, it is when His work is completed in us. We don’t know what He is painting from our lives, so how can we judge it? What right do we have to critique someone else’s life? Paul said, “I don’t even judge myself.” I Cor. 4:3 (NIV) He had wisdom and put himself in God’s hands. The Lord knew him better than he knew himself.

David said it this way “Search me O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along the path of everlasting life.” Ps. 139:23,24 (NLT)

This is a truth that has set me free: I am a masterpiece in progress and so are you.

"For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." Eph. 2:10

A Dream

I had a dream a few years ago and in it I saw a very elegant restaurant filled with people. Each table was filled except one where a man was sitting alone. This table was in the center of the room and was very large with the man sitting at the head. This man paid for everyone’s meal and it was made known to all in the room.

There were loud exclamations and people turned to look at him. Many came over to thank him and humbly accepted his payment. I saw a man with his family ask this kind stranger, “Why did you pay for our meal when we don’t even know you?” “Because I love you,” he said. They were amazed but saw the love in his eyes and asked if they could sit at his table and talk with him. He nodded with a smile and soon his table was filled with people.

Others were insulted by this man. They felt interfered with and were very suspicious. Their pride would not let them accept this free gift. They did not want to feel obligated to anyone. Their indignation mounted to anger and hatred. They went to his table and yelled at him. Some spit on his face because they were so enraged. This man still desired them to accept his gift but they refused every entreaty. They seemed pleased in the fact that they could refuse him. This man kept following them with his compassionate eyes as these people retreated from his table to pay the cashier themselves. He kept calling them back to come to his table and they kept refusing to hear him.

When they came to pay the bill, they again refused to have the cashier accept the man’s generous offer. The cashier rang up each of their bills. It came up to tens of thousands of dollars each. Their faces paled because no one had enough to pay what they owed. The dream faded and in that dreaming, waking state, I asked the Lord what it meant.

He said, “I am the man who paid for everyone’s meal. The table I am sitting at is the kingdom of heaven. Those who are humble and grateful are able to let Me pay the tab for their sins. Each individual sits at the table of their life and eats of their own doing. You truly are what you eat. You can only change your diet when you eat from My table. I give the invitation and all hear and know it, but as you have seen there are still those who reject My free gift and choose to do it themselves. When they find out they do not have enough to pay their debt--it will be too late.”
I woke up with the picture still vivid in my mind and wrote it out as best as I could recall it.

What's in a name?

Shakespeare raised a premise but then he was working with Italian names and they sound so lyrical and lovely. Someone could be cussing me out in Italian and as longed as they smiled and used a proper tone I would think that they were complimenting me.

"What's in a name?" Here is where I must break ranks with the bard because I comprehend a lot in a name. Take one of my favorite authors for example...C.S. Lewis. Before I knew what those initials stood for I imagined all sorts of things: Charles Stevens, Claude Stewart but definitely NOT Clive Staples. What were his parents thinking? No wonder he used his initials.

Alas, but there are crueler names to pass down to posterity. Could you picture Paris Hilton as a Bertha? Would Will Smith work as a Buford? How about Cary Grant as Archibald Leach? Ah, but here's the rub...Cary Grant's real birth name was Archibald Leach, so I must not be the only one who comprehends a lot in a name.

Now I am not a parent, but I have enough fear of God that I would never name a boy, say for instance, Wilbur or a daughter Hephzibah. So parents be kind to your yet unborn children and consider that they must wear those names the rest of their lives.

Names such as Bertha, Buford and Beulah should not even be mentioned in baby name books. Oh, and I forgot to mention Horatio. It worked for naval heroes two hundred years ago but people today might consider it obscene, unless of course the man happened to look like Ioan Gruffudd. If you haven't a clue who the actor is, rent Amazing Grace and you'll understand perfectly who I mean.

Captured Heart

If you have already read “The Spirit of Mischief” and it tweaked you a little, I’m going to go a little further so if you don’t like to be tweaked, you may want to skip this article. For those of you who don’t mind the experience, I encourage you to read further.

In addition to being a fun-loving God, I also want to suggest He may not always play fair. He is a gentleman at heart, but doesn’t always put all His cards on the table. In other words…He is a God of surprises.

How do I know that? From experience, of course. When I was an atheist, God didn’t sit me down at a table and say…“I’m going to use this thought, that quiet moment, and this proof to turn you around.” He didn’t show me His plan: détente and negotiations were not penciled in. I didn’t have a clue what was happening, I only knew I “was blind but now I see.”

He went after me; then He won me; now He’s got me. I hope I am not a trial to Him as Jasmine was to her father…oh, pardon me, you will have to read my book The Captain’s Choice to understand what I mean by that. You can read the first three chapters for free at my website hrpeters.com or click on the link at the bottom of this page.

I couldn’t put it any better than this: “I fled Him, down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind; and in the midst of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter…” (The Hound of Heaven by Francis Thompson)

It seems running from God is a human condition and God in hot pursuit of us, His nature. I’m glad He knows all my hiding places. I’m thankful He doesn’t get tired. And most of all, I’m grateful His love for me does not wane.

Are you tired of running yet? Have you cried “uncle!” yet? Does He have to corner you somewhere? He’s going to win, you know. Take it from one who has raged against Him.

"I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence! If I go up to heaven, You are there; if I go down to the grave, you are there. If I ride the wings of the morning, if I dwell by the farthest oceans, even there Your hand will guide me, and Your strength will support me. I could ask the darkness to hid me and the light around me to become night but even in darkness I cannot hid from You. To You the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to You." Ps. 139:7-12 (NLT)

Most of all: to thine ownself be true

Shakespeare's famous words in Hamlet are as true now as they were then and we are rudderless without them. We seek to please others and conform to their wishes at the expense of our own and we are miserable. To either live by fearing men or pleasing them is to fall down a precipice. It is impossible to live that way for long. We become a thing untrue to ourselves and we lose any sense of individuality. People form our opinions for us: it so much easier that way instead of battling falsehoods to break through to truth. We become PC and parrot the popular catchphrases and then we wonder why we have lost our passion.

To long for acceptance is a natural human trait but not at the expense of our person hood. To live by your convictions is to live like a salmon swimming upstream against the constant current of conformity, but to live without them is to slowly die.

Have you ever stood against a roomful of people with a contrary opinion and held your ground? I have. My first experience was at the ripe old age of thirteen. The subject was social conformity. I wasn't the most popular person before or after that class but I felt an exuberance that comes from being true to my beliefs.

I'm not journaling the events of my day; I seek to make contact and to build bridges and to bring clarity through all the things I've struggled with and fought through. Why? Why should I even care? Because the love of God compels me. What does His love compel in me? To believe His work in people's lives even when they don't know that it is Him. To believe the best in people; to see the spark of hope and to fan it into flame, because I know what it is to grope my way in the darkness and long for light and company and direction.

I used to be a youth pastor and I have mentored many young adults. When I tell them that I believe in them: their gifts, abilities, talents, calling and even their half-formed thoughts and budding character--they are usually astonished because they know I really do. That kind of love and trust in God and others has a transforming power.

There are enough people and situations in life that will crush you but who will look at your life with confidence that you are not so lost, broken, or damaged that you are beyond hope?

I love the passages in the Bible that speak of God taking the ruins of our lives and building something beautiful out of them. He doesn't start with perfection: He starts when we give up and offer Him the broken pieces of our lives.

"The Lord will surely comfort Zion and will look with compassion on all her ruins. He will make her deserts like Eden, her wastelands like the garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of singing." Isa. 51:3,4 (NIV)

"For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope." Jer. 29:11 (NLT)

Pursuit of Happiness

Like any American I grew up learning about our Constitution; “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” These were my inalienable rights bestowed by my Creator. Now, I don’t know how hard other people have pursued happiness but I’ve done my fair share of it. I’ve found a problem inherit with the idea; however, for happiness was as difficult to capture as the wind.

How many times have you pursued something you thought you couldn’t live without only to find that when you attained it, the pleasure wore away quickly and left you hollow inside? I’ve found that happiness is too evasive to be a goal. I can only speak from my own life, of course, but it comes to me as a by-product of doing something else. It happens along the way and I’ve learned not to waste my time making it my goal…my pleasure, my fulfillment, my happiness…you know the spiel. Because of it, I’m free. Life doesn’t owe me. The Constitution doesn’t owe me. God doesn’t owe me. I’m not entitlement driven. I know that may shake some people up, but I’m not a victim anymore. Being a victim implies that a person has no choice in the matter. I always have a choice over my decision-making and emotions.

I no longer say “I can’t help myself.” I’ve grown up and pulled the rug from under all my excuses. It’s easier to blame my situation on others but in the end it doesn’t help. I’m stuck with myself. I can’t change people or things around me but I can make choices that foster growth in my life.

I would rather pursue something that can be caught. I don’t want to waste my time chasing an illusion. I don’t want to wander in the wilderness of life searching for an oasis only to wind up with a mirage. I want real water to quench my thirst. Change that produces growth can be measured…happiness cannot.

Did I pull the curtain back and spoil the illusion for you? The wizard of Oz is only a little man with a lot of smoke and mirrors. Don’t spend your life searching for him to be the answer.

“God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.” Ecc. 3:11 (New Living Translation)

God created you with a will to make choices. You are not a leaf carried by the wind but a tree whose roots can grow deeper. Something inside you cries out for the eternal, and if you are like me, you will never be satisfied with something as elusive and temporal as “happiness.”

Imagination and Dreams

Did you ever wake yourself up by laughing in your sleep? I do, quite frequently. Truthfully, without exaggeration, it's at least a few times a year. What can I find that is so amusing? I don't know--I guess I'm easily entertained. I forget most of my dreams but the memorable ones that I do recall are not even remotely tied to reality. Shall I undress my psyche and share them with you? If you are nodding your head right now or yelling "yes" at the computer...you need go no further: I will take pity on you. If you are bored and not the slightest bit interested, skip this part.

As God is my witness, I lie not: I dreamt (yes that is a word...archaic like me but it's still a word!) that a gigantic bright red bunny rabbit was chewing on my sofa. How big was it? Well, it's head was hitting the living room ceiling and no, I didn't watch Harvey and have never seen a pooka. I still remember the crunching sound it made as if it were chomping on carrots. Yes, I did wake up laughing...okay maybe it was more like a chuckle but it did wake me up.

The other dream I remember vividly was more dramatic because it unfolded like a Hitchcock movie. It was night (sorry but "a dark and stormy night" has already been taken). I heard the stomping of many feet and saw a mob chasing a man wearing a black leather jacket. I didn't see the man's face but I saw him run around a corner north by northwest. I followed the crowd with suspicion and found the man cornered in an alley like a notorious criminal. Spellbound, I pushed my way through to see what was going to happen next. I was out of breath and my heart was racing but luckily I didn't have vertigo. The man was panting and had his back to the mob. Were they going to beat him up? Were they going to catch a thief? Then I heard a man leading the group pipe, "Hand it over, buddy!" The man reluctantly turned around with a hand hidden in the breast of his jacket as if he were imitating Napoleon. What did he pull out? You couldn't guess it in a hundred years! It was a pair of red boxer shorts with tiny white hearts on it. Guess who the cornered man was? You might think I'm psycho or one for the birds but it was Jerry Lewis. I swear on the Bible it was. For any Hitchcock fans: sorry that I couldn't fit most of his movies in this paragraph but there are a few names to tantalize you.

If any of you are dream therapists out there you might say that I have a perverted wish to marry Jerry Lewis but unlike the French, I don't even like the guy. Okay, I did watch a few of his movies but that was when he was paired with Dean Martin and eons ago. I did have a fixation with scarlet in both dreams but I have no idea what that means. Maybe you could enlighten me.

All right, that takes care of the real dreams but what about my overactive imagination? Sometimes I wish I could turn it off but there are days when it is on overdrive. I remember many years ago when I went to see Jurassic Park (the first movie) with my Japanese cousin. I had to go tinkle (peepee...I work with little kids a lot--excuse me!) really badly halfway through the movie but held it because I didn't want to miss anything. After the movie was done, I rushed to the restroom and my cousin, like a gentleman, waited patiently for me in the lobby. Now it was bad enough that I had nightmares for two weeks as a result of this movie but when I was in the stall taking care of business, I thought to myself, "gee, a T-Rex's head could fix perfectly here. Where could I go and hide? Those gleaming razor sharp teeth could bite me in half!" Well after minutes of such contemplation, I rejoined him. He noticed that my hands were trembling and asked me what was wrong. I blurted out everything and he looked at me sadly as if I had lost my mind and asked compassionately, "Do you really think like that?" Alas, I was speechless and could only nod my head affirmatively.

So I honestly must rate my dreams and imagination the same: not R for restricted, nor PG for parental guidance but the big "I." What does that mean? Never heard of it before? It means INSANE, but what do I care--as long as it leaves me laughing?

***PS: I will post the top ten dreams (the ones that make me laugh hardest) on my blog. Remember I am not talking about daydreams, fantasies or visions but real dreams. Also keep in mind that this is a G rated website. Feel free to post your comments or add your dreams. I will of course keep your anonymity (especially if it is embarrassing!)***

I hereby make it official: I tag my friends Mel (A Quiet Symphony) and Rebecca (Not so Desperate Housewife) to post their most outrageous dreams!

Confessions of a Samurai

I love swords. I enjoy movies with lots of action and great sword play like Gladiator, The Last Samurai, Lord of the Rings and of course, the classic scene between Wesley and Inigo in The Princess Bride. I don't replay the "twue wuv" part--I repeat the sword fight over and over.

My mother's bloodline is samurai and my father is from the McGregor clan, so I am hopelessly enamored by the beauty and power of a sword in the hands of a master. I wish I had a real "katana" (a samurai sword) but if we ever had one in the family, it is long gone. We gave up bushido during the Mejii period.

It's strange but I don't identify with the warrior wielding the sword...I identify with the sword itself: the way that it is made with all the pounding and folding of the metal on the anvil and the fire of purification.

FORGED IN THE FURNACE

I’m being formed in the darkness.
The only light comes from the fire.
The flames are purifying and I am lifted in Your hands
to rest on the anvil while You bring down the blows
of Your hammer to shape me.

The process seems endless.
When I cannot take another blow
You put me back in the fire.
When I cannot stand the fire any longer
I find myself on the anvil again.

I never saw my shape.
I never understood what You were forming me into.
But now I am resting in the cool water of Your Spirit.
The sizzling heat and the blows are but a dim memory.

For I am tempered steel now;
shaped into a double edged sword.
The process was hard and painful to make me harder still.
Now I am a weapon in Your hand forged for warfare.

BROKEN THINGS

You can tell a lot by broken things:
A sword that was broken

can still cut off the enemy’s hand.
And Strider the Ranger

can still be lethal to the enemy.

Re-forge the sword
renew the man…

double the strength
for twice the damage.

Nothing is more deadly than
a sword made new

in the hands of a man made whole.

All the years of waiting
only tempered the steel in Aragorn.

Now the man and the blade would be one.

KEEPING WATCH

***This poem is from the scene in Fellowship of the Ring
where Aragorn is watching over Narsil, the sword that was
broken***

Silently you keep watch over your sword.
When would it be re-forged?

Arwen silently keeping watch over you.
When will you receive your due?

A woman waiting to be fulfilled…
A man waiting for his destiny…
A sword waiting to be used again.

appetite

I have a confession to make...I love food like a Hobbit. I know there are many people out there who are indifferent to food, but heaven forbid I'm not one of them! When I go on a prolonged fast I actually dream of food. I remember the smells, colors and taste. "Is it crunchible...preciousssss?" (I know crunchible is not a word but I'm simply quoting Gollum at the moment--forgive me!)

Of course, dreaming about food is no crime and doesn't add inches to your waist. I have a fantasy of heaven where I am eating my way through a room and not gaining a pound, but alas, such is not the case down here. To this very day, my friends never know when I'll break out and sing my favorite song..."Food glorious food: hot sausage and mustard..." Okay so I like the musical "Oliver!"

There are many laws in nature and there are laws of life too. One of them I keep in mind is this: Whatever you feed will grow. We all know what it can do to our bodies. It is equally true that 'we are what we eat,' but it also works in other realms. For instance, I can feed my resentment and anger by rehearsing the wrong that has been done to me. I can feed my pride by blaming others and justifying my actions. You get the drift.

The same is true for the positive things I choose to feed. When I choose to forgive, I find myself loving others more. When I give, it increases my desire to serve.

Lust, violence, perversion...what satiated our culture twenty years ago doesn't even turn on a teenager now. "Whatever we feed will grow" works whether it is applied to an individual or a culture. Frightening isn't it? But it doesn't have to be.

Loyalty can be fed by simply keeping a confidence and not gossiping. Integrity can be nourished by keeping your word. Right choices will lead to right character. I want to feed the healthy things inside and starve the ones that are not.

God created us a tripartite being with body, soul and spirit. You have a spiritual hunger and you may be reaching out for other things to fill it and not finding satisfaction. I know because I've been there.

"Is anyone thirsty? Come and drink, even if you have no money! Come, take your choice of wine or milk--it's all free! Why spend your money on food that does not give you strength? Why pay for food that does you no good? Listen and I will tell you where to get food that is good for the soul! Come to Me with your ears wide open. Listen, for the life of your soul is at stake..." Isaiah 55:1-3a (New Living Translation)

GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER?

Hobbits are Middle-earth’s rustic folk.
Inviting them to dinner is no joke.
They’ll eat six meals a day whenever they can.
An appetite like that they ought to ban.
You better have lots of pipe weed in store.
Smoking comes in second
and they’ll ask for more.
You can be rich with all your Hobbit friends
and turn out poorer for it in the end.
The moral of this story is serious indeed.
Stop and think before you’ve any Hobbits to feed.

EAT AT YOU

Lust is a hunger that cannot wait.
It preys unconcerned about its fate.

Its object is consumption
regardless of indigestion.

Whatever it devours
will always turn out sour.

It can never be satisfied
no matter how loud it cries.

The irony that’s in full view
is what you eat will eat at you.

KINGDOMS TO RULE

We all have kingdoms to rule.
Our souls unabated would be fools.

To not be overcome by appetite’s bosses
is to count a victory over losses.

To not give in to anarchy’s flame
is power to submit, to conquer blame.

Rebellion can never lead to life.
Inner peace means ending that strife.

Purity is tested in the dark.
Deformity will leave its mark

on words and actions that will stain.
Love is the only thing that gains.

To win the battle by taming self’s beast
is to rule your kingdom like a priest.

You live in a land of self-denial…
the laughter you hear are from those on trial

who never understand the concept of self-rule
and end up as slaves to desires cruel.

But suffering aided Strider’s self-control
to master the kingdom within his soul.

It gave him authority to be a true king…
wisdom, understanding to rule he would bring.

To command a nation you must conquer within.
Defeat your own tyranny in order to win.

Laughter is like medicine just don't overdose

These are the kind of definitions I'd like to see in a medical dictionary.

Artery................The study of paintings.
Benign................What you do after you be eight.
Bacteria..............Back door to a cafeteria.
Barium................What doctors do when patients die.
Cesarean Section......A neighborhood in Rome.
Cat Scan..............Searching for Kitty.
Cauterize.............Made eye contact with her.
Coma..................A punctuation mark.
Dilate................To live long.
Enema.................Not a friend.
Fester................Quicker than someone else.
Fibula................A small lie.
Hangnail..............What you hang your coat on.
Impotent..............Distinguished, well known.
Labor Pains...........Getting hurt at work.
Medical Staff.........A Doctor's cane.
Morbid................A higher offer than I bid.
nitrates..............Cheaper than day rates.
Node..................I knew it.
Pelvis................Second cousin to Elvis.
Post Operative........A letter carrier.
Rectum................Darn near killed him.
Seizure...............Roman emperor.
Tablet................A small table.
Tumor.................More than one.
Urine.................Opposite of you're out.
Varicose..............Near by

I wonder

I wonder what the world would be like if each person's face revealed what was in their hearts. I remember watching a Twilight-zone episode where a wealthy man was dying and in order for his family to collect his money they would have to wear hideous masks with expressions of arrogance, pride, selfishness and avarice. They spoke kindly to him but their hearts were filled with greed. They reluctantly agreed to wear them and watched the old man expire. At the moment of death they gleefully took off their masks only to find that their faces were twisted into those shapes. They were rich and hideous…justice indeed!

If what we are on the inside could be reflected on the outside and we beheld the true person as God does then there would be a great reversal here…Hollywood would crumble and Mother Theresa would have been breathtaking. Flesh gets in the way of true beauty--how easily we are fooled.

The amazing thing about God is that He sees us as we really are and still loves us. When someone is in love, they are blind to the faults of the loved one, or they look beyond it to something else. Love has the power to transform us.

God’s love in Greek is the word agape which means He cherishes, esteems, respects, is loyal and devoted to you. If you don’t like what you see inside…He is the one who can change your heart. I know because I've been there and He's changing me. I haven't arrived yet, but I'm on the way.

“Love…always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails…” I Cor. 13:7,8 New International Version

I believe that our real reflection is not in the mirror but in His eyes. Love reveals our true image, not glass. It’s not a concave, distorted mirror at a carnival or a shattered reflection. Nothing can destroy, taint or mar how He sees us because He sees through the lenses of love--not only what we are but what we will become.

A thousand pardons!

I don't know what happened to the font on my poem "Time No Longer" yesterday. Many thanks to the one who called my attention to it. Oh, in case you are wondering what I am talking about--the font looked like this asl;dfkjt;lkj;kadjsltj I want to assure everyone that it is not the same thing as *@#$%^&*! because I would never use the uppercase except in illustration, knowing of course that it is a delicate way of writing expletives.

I know I should be serious because expletives are a serious matter but I'm in one of those "spirit of mischief" moods and can't seem to help myself. Have you ever wondered if ministers get angry? If they stub their toe they can't bloody well curse can they? Excuse me, I have to confess that I love the word "bloody" and "blast" but those are curse words to the British and I wouldn't want to shock their sensibilities. So I'll just sigh and think those delicious words instead.

So here I am, a minister, stumped for a good tasty word and my hands are tied. I remember a little jingle I used to say in the playground to taunt another child in Japanese. It goes like this..."baka, baka, shin da yo. Omaino kasan debeso." What on earth does that mean? Translated it goes something like this: "stupid, stupid, I wish you'd die...your mother has a big belly button!"

Sure go ahead and laugh, but when you are ten years old...those are fighting words. At one point in my life it didn't get any nastier than that but now somehow it doesn't cut the muster--it loses something in the translation. So I'm back where I started; for when I found out that I put my poem in an illegible script I wanted to let fly!

What came out of my mouth instead? Are you ready to be shocked, astounded, ready to plead that God save my soul? I said the JC word and believe me it wasn't my Savior's name in vain. It was "Jiminy Cricket!" That's my word of choice now because it is the only one I can think of where no one will be offended.

Okay, now that I've got that out of my system; let's get serious. I have reset my blog so that anyone may comment. I'm new at this kind of thing and had no idea that people were unable to do so. Hopefully from this point on I will not have a "failure to communicate" (line from Cool Hand Luke).