The Moon

A distant friend,
who never laughs,
or sheds a tear.
Who never cries,
or truly smiles.
Her's is a lonely life,
but so simple,
without a care.

Church of the Unbelievers

They kept telling us the rapture was coming. They said we needed to be saved, to join their church, to evangelize to all our non-believer friends. They called us non-believers and never took the time to listen to what we do believe, after all everybody believes something.

Then they had their “last chance” worship service. They said everyone was invited but fifteen minutes after the service started a dozen or more non-church members came back out of the church. They reported that the church members had told them if they weren't ready to join the church and testify their belief in the imminent rapture they were beyond saving and no longer needed to be there.

Perhaps it was morbid curiosity, or just an excuse to party, but while the church members prayed their way to rapture the rest of us ate, drank, talked and laughed. It was ironic the way the tension of disagreement and arguing about beliefs dispelled that night. Everyone who knew they were going to be raptured was in church busy praying, and the rest of us were willing to accept each other as we were.

Some of us kept looking over at the door to the church to see if and when they were going to come out thumping their Bibles, but they never did. In fact some of us were out all night and nobody ever left the church. And nobody went in looking for them. They might have been right but it was much more peaceful without them.

This post was written for Flash Fiction Friday.

This is Not About...

This is not about you. It's about me. It's about me and where I'm going, where I'm stuck, what I need, and what I want. It's about trying to find what fits into my life and what I want to do. It's about being me without catering to preconceived ideas about who I am and what I'm supposed to be like.

I'm not who you think I am. It's all a lie, except more like I've just outgrown who you see me as and haven't yet had the courage to tell you who I am now. I've changed and grown, and I feel good about who I am and what I believe, yet it feels like a lie to keep my thoughts to myself.

I wonder sometimes if I should be more blunt to come out and say what I believe and feel. Often it's not really anybody else's business - what I believe, what I feel, how I meet God, my thoughts on this or that, who I happen to think is cute, or what I see as meaningless ritual is all a matter of who I am and really have nothing to do with you. Yet I can't help wonder... Would you see me differently if you knew the truth about me? Would you be bothered that I'm no longer the kid you think I am? Or would you still accept me, grown up and changed as I may be?

Untitled Prayer (righteousness and justice)

Let us live in righteousness,

not in belief we are right

and the other is wrong,

but in your grace,

doing what each of us is meant to do,

as best as we are able.

Let us seek justice,

not revenge.

Let us work towards wholeness,

fairness,

and authentically valuing

everyone's worth,

rather than fighting for recognition

of our own over-inflated "goodness."

Let you grace shine down and guide us,

when we fail to see the difference,

between righteousness and selfishness,

between justice and punishment,

between creating wholeness and creating division.

Holy Ground

I walk a path unknown,

but really more familiar,

bare foot in the grass,

cold beneath my feet,

sneakers crunching over gravel,

in the heat of summer,

weathered paths,

pulling me,

away from the world,

and closer to God,

to holiness and wholeness.

Things I Saved

Prompt: These are the things I saved.

Bits and projects,

stones and shells,

a stack of tee shirts,

I won't ever wear again,

a million papers,

my best artwork,

middle school essays,

my high school portfolio,

“important stuff”

that means nothing to me

- tax forms and pay stubs

from old jobs

snips of writing,

quotes from random places

- most I've forgotten why I saved,

but still make me smile,

relics of childhood,

and teenage years,

stuff in itself unimportant,

yet glued to precious memories.

Impatient

Waiting...

Waiting...

is it done yet?

If only saying,

I is hungry,

put something yummy,

on the table,

right now.