for the time being

the infinite connection of one named God for the time being.

stress is happening all around with the voices preventing.

i don't know how to sit or wait without external motivation to do so.

going wildly in circles of coffee and unanswered thoughts on what i am to do with today,

                                           "To Dine with Jesus..."

If I could have dinner with anyone, living or dead it would be Jesus. What would he eat, I wonder? The vegetarian option? No, he would have 5 loaves and 2 fish. Would Jesus, with all his miracles involving wine, be an expert on grape extraction? Somehow I can't picture God-in-carnate as a winesnob. But he would have expensive tastes, I'm sure. We would feast and he would probably ask our waitress to take a seat, serving us both as he tried to wash our feet. Christ would also probably have a sweettooth...chocolate, I'd guess.

After the meal, my head would turn to the questions that have lingered unsatisfied in my mind. But what....what would he say to me? What would I say to him? I'd ask about the mysteries of life later in the conversation, inexplicable rug-swept questions like hermaphrodites and seahorses (males carry the young to term), Stonehenge, and how MJ's face is still attached to the rest of him.  But before all that, I would ask Christ sad questions like why some of his children suffer at such high costs and why under heaven's watch, the Holocaust happened. And of course, I would ask him about war, what it means, and most of all why (try as I may) I don't understand it for the life of me.

Would dinner with the Almighty be Q and A or would Yeshua dialogue with me. I imagine he would. I imagine he cares how I don't understand his will or allowances, how I struggle with his grace and comprehending his endless forgiveness. I would ask him how he loves so completely. Maybe he would tell me the secret is in the loss of self and not the gain of knowledge. Maybe he would just smile and I'd know. Would Jesus laugh at one of my sarcastic remarks or be hurt by them? I imagine that to take on the weight of the world, his skin would have to be pretty thick. I hope he would laugh and pat me on the head, amused at his little invention (however malfunctioned it might be).

I imagine him leaning over the dinner table, candle shadows dancing across his kind face and all my questions melting away like the wax from the candles themselves. I imagine myself forgetting my inquiries and being hypnotized by his great love. That love would remind me of the power in his sacrifice. The completion of the very love I try to emulate. And my questions, answered or not,  would cower in the wake of his presence. I would be thankful to dine at his table, to eat of his bread and to drink of his wine. If I had dinner with Jesus, I would humbled by his humility.

Hmmm.....I wonder who would win the check fight?

happenstance.......breathe and dance........return with the notions and rhythmic motions of floating on nature's own oceans.......peace from the "in"......free from the sin of whining and dining soul-ly at a table for one.

happenstance. live and dance. challenging notions and rhythmic motions. crawling on nature's own oceans in the midst of her storm. peace from the in.free from the sin of whining and dining at a table for one.  

                                      "underneath our shortcakes"

 i have a security blanket named "banky"."banky" is as old as me. strawberry shortcake is printed on "banky". sadly, now she's faded and frayed (a bit like me). as a child, i would fall asleep on the stairs never quite making it to my own bunkbed. (even back then i was a borderline narcoleptic). i dreamed the best there, shortcake just covering my chubby body. not the feet, though. never the feet. those were always sticking out mary poppins-style, exposed to the elements. maybe i wanted to fly in my sleep. mom's umbrella sure didn't work!

 until i was old enough to have a mad crush on ty wolf (the dreamboat blondie in the 1st grade) i believed the world was a magical place, convinced that every person wound up nuzzled in their parents bed no matter where they fell asleep. i often pondered how this would be possible when i had kids of my own. the bed wouldn't be big enough, would it? a probing question for a 6 year old.

now i'm older and still dream of flying, but my dreams occur in the daytime and flight equals freedom these days. i dream of a world where children with buddha-bellies have them because they ate too much, not too little. i dream of wars that only exist in history books. i dream long and hard of a world where nighttime exists for the sole purpose of tents in the backyard and ghost stories that aren't scary, not the underside of life's great tragedy. i quess what i'm writing is that i dream of my childhood. 

perhaps if you dream in similar colors, we can all return to the respite of our youth. it is possible. lets recover our imaginations. close our eyes, squint real hard and fall asleep underneath our shortcakes.