Tuesday, February 25, 2014

The Stance

A woman is standing in line for something that she has desired but the longer she stands, the realization of how long her line is begins to drain her.  Look!  The line over there is shorter!  Does is matter that the line leads somewhere else?
A man selects a book to read and is quite involved, having read half of its contents already.  But wait!  There is a book that has a nicer cover, or that one which is shorter!  Should he set his book down to go for another when it seems that it may be more interesting?
But the woman remained in her line!  She’s not budging from her original desire.  Surely she must feel like her line is better than the others!  How dare she stay in one place?  Does she think less of us in our other lines or even disgust for those that move often?
Look!  The man kept his book!  But there are so many others to choose from, some that are easier to read, shorter, more colorful, inviting.  Could he really believe that his book is superior to all the others?  What arrogance! 
Or could it merely be that these individuals simply have their own stance?  Does the act of having an opinion that doesn’t engulf all others mean that the person is close minded?  Or does that make them firm in belief?
When has standing for something shifted to kicking others down?  
If I own one type of vehicle does it indicate that I abhor all others that aren’t mine?  No.  It simply means I prefer mine.  I may share satisfaction with my choice of transportation but does that suggest I wish for all other vehicles to cease?
I’m saddened at the present understanding that to hold a definitive, albeit unwavering, opinion is synonymous with narrow mindedness.  Is that not a stance as well?  When did the only acceptable opinion become one that is not really an opinion at all but a sponge that takes everything in, even the unwanted?
When one doesn’t stand for something, he shall fall for anything.  Why are we condemning those who stand firm?  Someday we may need them to pull us ashore when we’re lost in the waves and cannot find our footing.  And in the sea of constant change should we not respect those who manage to stand strong against the raging waves?  

Friday, February 7, 2014

Matchsticks

Your presence is no mystery
Though with My eyes I cannot see
I see your works like wind moves trees
The rush of rain, the roaring seas
You fall on me like rays of sun
You're everywhere for everyone
But then my hands become like ice
I've turned to things that won't suffice
I grab a match to warm a face
Dropping candles as I race
Towards the things that please me most
Silencing the Holy Ghost
I pass the Son for a matchstick
Turn from God for wax and wick
A moment they burn and then go out
Dark and cold, but what's that shout?
He's still there though I closed my eyes
The eternal truth that stamps out lies
The coldness I may feel some days
Are representing my own ways
He calls me back, the warmth returns
A little wiser, a lesson learned.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Prompt "So these were my friends."

"So these were my friends."  I showed her the faded photograph, our eyes resting on the image that was frozen in time.
     "They really meant a lot to you."
     It wasn't a question.  She could tell by our faces, the silent laughter erupting from the youthful smiles.  I couldn't answer.  The unexpected lump in my throat forced me to set the frame back on the mantle where until tonight it had rested unnoticed for so long.
     She lifted it gently, wiping the dust from the glass.  "Was that you?"  She pointed to the young man on the end, his demeanor of one with his whole life before him.
     I nodded, still unable to speak.  Maybe it would good those old souls hadn't the chance to see what had become of the boy beside them, to see the shadow of the man he'd become.
     "Can I have this?"
     Her words caught me and I think my sudden movement startled her as well.  But her smooth young hands were firm on the snapshot of my past.
     "Too many people don't know what true friendship looks like, Grandpa."
     I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, her head resting on my chest.
     She looked up.  "Some never get to see how much freedom really costs."