Livin' Small

What a sight
It is to sit
Outside at night.
Taking my mind
Back to another time.

Over my life
The busyness took over
And lost my contact
With the earth.
Oh the wonderment
Of what God created
Seems to have gone
Silently, quietly away.

Now here I sit in dusk
Seeing the moon and stars
Break through the skies husk
Revealing God’s hand once again
To my heart once connected
Desiring to find a way to regain
All that was lost

One simple statement, then pages of stiff necks roiling over their meaningless imaginations and expositions. The shallow and the deep of thought. None right, none wrong. Why do you all vex yourselves with the law. Jesus said he came to fulfill the law, which was to say only God can be perfect/mature in all the sayings of the law thereby becoming God and man at the same time. He no longer judges the world because there is therefore no more condemnation. The world has already been judged.

Believers and nonbelievers alike are already starting their existence in the judgement that was given them from the cross. You have to either accept Him or reject Him. He’s already judged. Now it’s time for you as individuals to make yours. Do you judge Him as a God/Man being or just some sap who was half crazed with a God complex? The answer to that is your judgement. The Pope is no more divine than I am. He doesn’t speak for me.

I sometimes wonder where my sense of humor went when all the time it’s right there staring me in the face. Two events come to mind involving the same person. I’m not picking on him. He’s a great guy. He’s very smart, good conversationalist and friend. Well, hopefully he’ll remain a friend.

It all revolves around the two public restroom incidents of which I was the instigator of the first. It was a drizzly Saturday evening. We’d been to eat somewhere and then we went to this small gift shop with an ice cream shop in the back area. People stop there more for the ice cream and as you would guess, any place with foods of sorts must have a bathroom. Well this one was just a small one-holer and the best I can remember it was what I call a unisex restroom. Well, we had all gotten ice cream, which I must admit was quite good. We had gone outside under the awning in front of the business and sat down in decorative lawn chairs to enjoy the cool rainy day. Permit me to say I take a variety of medications of the usual “old people” variety. Side effects abound in such a cocktail of pills I take in the morning, one of which is very aromatic visits to the bathroom. Some of the visits should warrant the use of cans of air fresheners and a very large fan. So here goes. As we sat there my stomach began to boil, growl and howl. That is the signal to not wait and see what comes next while what comes next is on the verge of making my day turn to hell on earth. I get up to go the restroom inside and some little kid is in there and he’s slow. So slow I begin to wonder if the store could clear its patronage so as to not suffocate the faint of heart. Butt checks clinched as I stood there feeling a little flush, pun intended.

The kid finally finished up and opens the door and I almost run him over as he exits. I shut the door, turn around and down go my shorts, still belted, buttoned and zipped. Then a barrage of bombs go off as though one would look to see if the flag still flies after a night of battle tending to write a new national anthem. I lost so much I felt as though the scales would drop like a fat guy at his first visit to a weight loss center after two weeks of dieting on boiled cabbage. Ahhhhh!! That was all I could think.

Anyway, now I’m left with a stench that would kill a wart hog and it’s all confined inside that tiny little room where all four walls are in arms reach. What to do, what to do. No air freshener. Oh well. Maybe I will exit and no one will be waiting to follow me. Fortunately so, so I made a quick exit and as I sat down my friend decided he needed to go.
Oh no. Please don’t was all I could think, but there he went. In a few minutes he came back and we all got in the vehicle to leave and as we closed the door he started. “Man, let me tell you. There was smell in that bathroom that was horrendous!” He went on to say it must have been that kid that went in there not realizing I went in after. He continued to say things like it was so bad the paint was peeling off the wall. He said he’d never smelt anything so atrocious and what made it so funny by then was that Libby knew it was me who had committed this deed and she was laughing so hard she could barely contain herself. He wouldn’t stop talking about it and his wife got into the conversation by saying he needed to calm down. He had actually gotten rather dramatic about it by saying things like it was so rotten it could kill rats in his raised voice, which only heightened the sound of laughter from Lib and his wife and myself. I dare not tell him it was me.

The next opportunity arose a few months later when the same couple, Lib and I went to a restaurant to eat. It was good food, but nothing to write home about. We sat and talked well past finishing our meals and the place had filled with people by then. I felt the need to let some of my tea return to its rightful owner, so I got up and took my bill with me to the front and paid. The men’s room was right there next to the counter so I went in and took my leave. The door opens behind me and in walks my friend, who was returning his tea. He goes into a stall opposite from me. I finish up, zip up and turn to wash my hands when I got the scare of my life. He’s standing there peeing and his shorts are around his ankles with no underwear. Now for you information, I’ve been in the military and still I work in a military setting with a locker room as my most immediate source to remedy my fluid pill induced kidney function. I’ve even seen the commanding officer nude several times in that locker room as it seemed he like to parade around in such a manner with unflinching candor. Not just him, but several Navy personnel come and go to shower and dress for work or PT. But I did not expect what I saw that evening in a restaurant restroom. When I looked around there was the hairiest butt I believe I’ve ever seen. I was more embarrassed that someone might walk in any second and be stunned by the same sight as I had witnessed. If I had thought different I’d have thought a bear had walked in, stood up and used the urinal. Thoughts of shaving a number 3 on each cheek and yelling “EARNHEART” came to mind, but that would have led to a tussle and possibly an arrest.

Anyway, life does still have its harrowing moments, but in jest, as Libby says “Everything’s funny” took over my thinking and I’ve tried to not traumatize anyone else. They’ll get you back in a most indelible way.

What a sight
It is to sit
Outside at night.
Taking my mind
Back to another time.

The busyness took over
And lost my contact
With the earth.
Oh the wonderment
Of what God created
Seems to have gone
Silently, quietly away.

Now here I sit in dusk
Seeing the moon and stars
Break through the skies husk
Revealing God’s hand once again
To my heart once connected
Desiring to find a way to regain
All that was lost

A day or two ago Larry Gray, who grew up in my neck of the woods wrote something about tobacco barns and it made me think about my youth as well. Not until this evening did it settle in my heart of those days as I stood in a light drizzle. I was under the trees along the edge of my yard out of the rain as the day subsided and the dark of night came upon me. The contrasts of light and dark, the fullness of the leaves in the trees. The sound of raindrops falling through those leaves and dripping to the ground. I could see the small droplets of rain falling out in the open area of the yard. It reminded me of the times on the farm when work had ceased for the day, tobacco was curing in the barns and you could smell the aroma of the drying leaves.

Many times toward the end of summer I would go sit under the tin roofed shelter that ran between the barns where perhaps a couple of weeks before the hustle and bustle of women running on about how so and so was such a hussy or who’s husband stayed out drinking all the weekend was the talk of the day. I’m sure there was talk about missing their favorite soap opera. There were the typical horn worms and snakes, dead of course, left in the tobacco trucks by the field hands to scare these women out of their wits.

But now there was quiet. Just the sound of rain on the tin roof. My dad, would lay tobacco sticks up in the racks near the top and would put quilts on them so he could go out there and sleep at night sometimes so he could be close to the curing tobacco. I don’t know why for sure. I could see it if it were even earlier times when the curing process was done by wood. By then it was done by LP gas.

As I crawled up on dad’s homemade bed I took in all that was nature around me. The squirrels that played around in the pines next to the shelter were always amusing. I could see off in the woods not too far away our hogs foraging for something to eat. We kept them fenced in through the woods behind the house. I could hear the guineas making noise off across the big ditch down in the field. Occasionally I would see a deer wandering across the field heading for the field over on Uncle Snodie’s farm.

Quiet time under the shelter and the tobacco barns was always a place to connect with nature.

Lately and sporadically I find I might have something on my mind, but mostly not. I don’t know why other than my thoughts on life have become fairly tiring. Mundaneness has become too overreaching into my life. Not that that is a bad thing. Maybe it’s not that. Libby and I have a very interesting life, but to get up at four in the morning and go to work and come home tired and to go to bed by seven or eight is more of what I speak about. Weekends also go quickly. Time for change is needed and hopefully not in a bad direction.

Libby and I want to travel and see things, places and new people. Due to my divorce being put on hold month after month leaves us both tired and exasperated over it’s grip on us not being able to do more. We’re in a Corvette Club and would like to attend more of the outings they plan, but don’t have the money to comfortably do so.

Political upheaval and scandals have taken away my respect for governmental rule. I have no faith in politicians any more. Oh, there are but few of them left to depend on to cover my back, so there is still a glimmer of such. Working for the government has been a very fulfilling experience and I know I have benefited from it and continue to do so. My problem with it is I sense all Federal employees will soon find their stability falling away and will become questionable over time as to their ability to make a lifelong career of it as I have done.

Enough for now.

I’m back home this evening after a weekend up on Petersburg, VA with Libby at my brother’s place.  That would be Mike and Debbie.  I got us free tickets to the drag races across the road practically from where they live. . .the Viriginia Motorsports Park.  We got there Friday evening and stayed till around two this afternoon.  We got back home with one stop at the Cracker Barrel in Greenville for dinner with Libby’s daughter, Beverly.  She started crying when we started talking.  Her boyfriend had just texted her with a breaking up message.  I feel sorry for her.

Lib and I both missed being in church this morning.  We have become attached to this group of people at First Christian Church in Richlands.  There’s always something to do with them.  I’ve taken up playing drums in their Saturday evening contemporary worship service.  It’s interesting to say the least.  I hadn’t picked up a set of stick in at least six years.   Maybe more.  I have done things here that I would not have done five years ago.  I was a “disciple” in their Maundy Thursday service where I portrayed a disciple in their re-enactment of the Last Supper.   In all it was quite moving.  Then, Easter morning Lib and I attended the Sunrise Service and later had breakfast at my old church.  I feel God has brought me full circle now.  I feel his Spirit working not only in me, but Libby as well.

Take this for instance.  Wednesday evening the pastor made an announcement that some of the pew seat bottoms had been taken out for reupholstering and there were more needing new covering than anticipated by about an extra $1k.  Immediately God spoke to me to give $100.  On the way home I told Libby about it and she was a little upset that I didn’t consult with her, but later admitted God had spoken the same figure to her, but she, knowing me as she does, thought to herself, nah, Jim wouldn’t go for that and then began to reason lower numbers.  But when she saw me write a check for $100 she was a bit taken back by it.  She had no idea I would do such and told me what she had heard God say.  I told her I was thrilled that she heard God speak the same amount to her as I heard.  We have been tuned like this for quite some time even down to ordering off a menu when we eat out somewhere.  We think very much alike.

I have court next week.  I can only hope that I heard God speak to me concerning it.  Divorce is something that needs to be finalized.  All is done except for the final decree.  He spoke to me not to worry about it.  He was giving me favor in the matter.  I leave it up to Him.

Time for me to hit the bed.  Four comes early.

It’s Friday evening.  It’s been a normal week.  Normal things, normal happenings, normal life.

I watch and read the things my friends post on Facebook.  I have found one person that I once worked with who has a thirst for the wonders of being.  Just being.  She looks into the sky and wonders the how and why of it all.  I told her with the insightful questions she posts she should blog these things so she can go back later and see how she’s progressed in her quest for the meaning of life.

This put me to thinking this evening when I took my girls outside for their evening walk before bed.  I stood off in the dark of the back-end of the carport while they stood in the light.  My thoughts drifted to the undisputable truth that my most favorite part of the day is when I can hold Libby close to me in my arms.  The feel of her breath against my face, the touch of her arms around me.  The warm touch of skin against skin.  Her inviting kisses that take me into another realm of being.  She’s what has helped heal me from my past and kept me alive.  I can hold her and feel like I was plugged into an energy source from which I can draw fresh new life.  Touch.  A long forgotten art that stirs emotional satisfaction.  The spirit of another reverberates from one being to another.  There’s never an overload.  Just the right amount of exchange to make one another drift off to sleep fulfilled, ready for another day.

As I moved over to the light where my girls were I looked up to see the stars above.  A universe so full and vibrant with life that is unknown to those who have no wonderment of anything above ground level.  Most are like chickens that peck the ground looking for something to feed them.  I’m reminded I’m an eagle who soars high in the skies and yes, looking downward when hungry, but it presents a broader range of objectives to choose from for the menu.  But my main thought is propelled to look at all my surroundings from a higher perspective.  Not only do I look down, but I also look up.  I’m feeling the air for the currents that can take me higher as I soar on open wing.  But most of all the night sky shows me what can’t be seen in the light of day and that is the vastness of space that lies beyond the haze of the sky above.  Daylight has its rightful place to show us the way without stumbling, but night has its place too.  In it we tend to grow even though the path is not clear.  We gain the understanding of our place in the vastness of the universe.

I realize this body is merely a suit in which my spirit may guide my soul.  My spirit is guided by my God.  He is supreme.  He created me.  His will is what spurs me on.  Leaving

Libby

this body doesn’t end my existence.  It frees it to be more than an earthbound being.  I accept that.

Libby, I love.  To her I have given my heart.  Why?  Because she has given me things in life I have never had.  A touch, a giving spirit are her most marked attributes.  But there are so many more.  I can see in her eyes that she truly loves me and cares for me.  And she tells me constantly, sometimes asking if she says it too much.  My answer is “No, it’s never too much”.

As of late I’ve started to wonder.  With each succeeding year I grow older, less able, less attentive.  I have less memory and stamina.

My most intriguing of thoughts is why I have no emotion.  No unction, no feelings.  I think to myself what shall I do to re-establish my emotional side or maybe it’s something entirely different. 

There are things I definitely know, such as I’m where I’m supposed to be.  I’m with who I’m supposed to be with.  I can feel the connection.  It’s real.  It’s right, but there is no emotion attached to it.

Is this because I’m getting to an age of belief without having to have emotion to affect me? 

This evening I asked God would it take another mental breaking to obtain my emotional state and before I could finish my question a resounding “Yes” was my answer.  So, God, how and why?  Why does it necessitate another mental breaking to get me back to that state of being?

I suppose in the coming time I will know.  It will come to me and I will know.  Libby will know.  All who are close to me will know.  My only hope that it doesn’t have a physical consequence to it as well.  Time will tell.