I realized, recently, that I’ve put quite a few pieces of original fiction on this blog. And that it would behoove me to make it more accessible.
Thus I have reorganized the navigation links at the top of the blog, and created this Handy Page.
Also, as I do periodically, because I love it, I am pointing you all towards Bekind Rewrite’s short, hard-boiled Noir Mystery, The Mysterious Case of the Marshmallow Mushroom Forest
Fair warning. Purple prose ahead. This is what I can do with language if I forget all lessons of a clean style. But then again, my feelings about the mountains in question seem to warrant purpleness. Maybe one day I will try and post a more simple song.
When I die, if I do so before the coming of my Lord, bury me in the sandy loam of the Smoky Mountains. Golden sand worn from the peaks fills gaps between fallen leaves and makes patterns in impati…
Source: Mountain Song
This is something I still think about a lot. Perception has so much impact on how we receive everything in life. Not only stories (though as a storyteller, that aspect is very important to me) but every event. And while some of our tuning may be beyond our power to change, much of it is very much under our control if we will only be mindful.
For me, it takes constant reminding.
Time for rambling on an extended metaphor. George MacDonald once wrote: “If there be music in my reader, I would gladly wake it.” He has stirred my soul to music many times, yet I know,…
Source: All About the Tuning
It’s funny. I have never been good at keeping a journal, and so this blog has been something of a stand-in for me. Now I can look back and be reminded of where I have been, and how little I have learned. I still need reminding of these things.
“Sir Arthur St. Clare, as I have already said, was a man who read his Bible. That was what was the matter with him. When will people understand that it is useless for a man to read his Bible …
Source: A dollop of reality in my cup of fiction
“I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope.
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new ever morning; great is Your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘the Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.’
…For men are not cast off by the Lord forever. Though He brings grief, He will show compassion, so great is His unfailing love. For He does not willingly bring affliction or grief to to the children of men.”
Lamentations 3: 19-24, 31-33
I wanted to share images of the stunning cathedral where two friends and I held our Easter service. I have few words, for I am overwhelmed with joy, life and freedom! May my heart forever sing prai…
Source: Easter Cathedral
Another reflection from my early blogging. A little more flowery than my usual stuff, but no less true for that.
I never know when my soul will sing, nor always why it does. The feeling is one of contradiction. It calls for weeping and laughter mingled. Bittersweet is not the right word, as there is no bitter…
Source: Echo in my soul
Today I reblog a prayer, as relevant to me today as it was the first day I wrote it.
Thanks once again, Lord, for the reminder of where my eyes should be.
Thank You, Lord, for the rough country; for the times when my path is a struggle. Thank You for the blisters, bruised heel, and scrapes from my falls. Thank You for the travelers, of all kinds, aro…