Courage

I rise with the dawns light
Washed, again, in the glory of the Son
The dark ones blight
Holds no sway; the day’s first battle won

If I listen, I can hear
The tempting voice, the call to sloth
Pull up the covers, make the day disappear
But this burgeoning light can’t be hidden by cloth

I am suffused with impetus and desire
In a small sense, from the morning light
In the larger, I am consumed with holy fire
Today is not a day meant for “I might…”

Today is the day that Lord has made
I will rejoice and be glad forever
He has an army just for my aid
A sure and present help for every endeavor

Armed with the confidence of the One I confide in
Knowing that when I stumble, I am lifted
For every miss of the mark, every stain of sin
His forgiveness and grace are ever gifted

When I woke, feeling unsure in my endeavor
Stumbling, weak, tempted to feel unwanted
He gently reminded me that no, not ever
Will he leave my side. I am undaunted.

- A Hopeful Traveler

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. "
e. e. cummings

Choice

God, you know my innermost heart. You know my physical and spiritual needs and answer them; even before they are even half-formed ideas.

Even so, the dark one, the terror that creeps in at night, the insidious whisper can be more than overpowering.

I am dealing with physical and emotional pain that seems to speak louder than your still, small Voice.

My work with the local animal shelter has been a tangible cornerstone in rebuilding/remembering part of my deepest identity; my empathy; my calling.

Today, while working with the recently impounded cats, I came across one in particular who I honestly couldn’t tell if it was feral; mistreated; or just plain scared.

Before working the impound room, I checked with one of the employees and “verified” that the cats in impound were docile, and could in fact be let out to wander the small impound room while I made sure that each one had fresh food; fresh water; a clean litterbox; and clean, soft, dry bedding.

One of the cats seemed to be completely wild, due to its reactions. So I gloved up (we have protective leather and canvas gloves) and managed to get the cat out of the small cage so I could get it clean and set up.

When I attempted to put the cat back in the cage, its intensity of action ramped up considerably. It whipped its head back and sunk its teeth THROUGH the layers of the glove, and punctured my forefinger.

As the day has gone on, my finger feels like a overstuffed sausage. I visited the ER, at the insistence of the Animal Control Officer, and was given a wide-spectrum antibiotic.

Come Monday, I will know if the cat had rabies.

My temptation is multifold: resenting the employee for lack of adequate warning; me knowing to let the cat alone after the first brief encounter; and my fear of the painful procedures I will have to endure if the cat does turn out to be rabid.

God: I refuse. I refuse to let even the possibility of enduring painful procedures enter into the joy and sense of empowerment I get from the volunteer job. I refuse to lay blame at the employee’s feet. I refuse to waste this weekend worrying.

See in me, and be in me. That’s all I ask. I open my heart to your divine guidance. The dark one’s seditious, malevolent whisperings can, and will, bounce off the shield you have gifted to me.

I accept the gift of this weekend, and choose to involve myself in activities that benefit my deepest secret self, or the needs of others.

I swear this in your Name and Nature, and surrender on bended knee to your still, small, Voice. I will listen for your clarion bell, and look for your lighthouse beacon, and they will guide my footsteps.

Thanks in advance, Big Guy.

Love, your kid.

"Having thus chosen our course, without guile and with pure purpose, let us renew our trust in God, and go forward without fear and with manly hearts."

- Abraham Lincoln

Reflection

“reflection”

eddies in the pool

clouds under the surface

i peer into the depths

and see someone else's face

angrily, i reach out

to wipe it away

like a mirror, a hand reaches out

and takes mine

a deadlock grip, firm

feels like my own

then

a jerk

and i'm underwater

looking at my own face

but not what i want to own

too many lines

the mouth is pinched and severe

his eyes look tired

so i did what i could

i reached up to that face

smoothed it with my hand

tweaked the nose

letting him know he had no right

to live like one already dead

i found myself, again, looking into the water

but into a face of hope

and liking what i saw

- A Hopeful Traveler

A first step

     For better or for worse, this is the body I wear today.
     306 pounds of physical baggage.  From the outside, pretty easy to recognize as such.
     But what about what's on the inside?  What is there that is NOT visible to the naked eye?
      How about a man who, when met with a kind eye from a therapist, bursts into tears?
     A man who, due to the bulk he carries around, knows he will lower a vehicle on his side when he gets in? A man who has to ease into chairs and couches for fear of collapsing them?
      A man who has learned to see food as a dichotomy of both a garden of earthly delights, and of a demonic trap worthy of Dante's Inferno?

     I'm done, brothers and sisters.  I'm finished with hiding me under this unwanted bulk.  It's a disguise, spread on like so much troweled mud.  Yes, to continue the metaphor, the mud has hardened to the point where it feels like a outer representation of what's inside me.  A sun-baked, cracked desert.  A stumbling sojourner in a vast land where I often feel I don't belong.
   You want to know the scary part?  As the layers of fat come off, and they WILL, I don't know what's underneath.  Exercise and diet are a stopgap solution.  I bide my time till I reach my goal weight...then what?  Then who?  I built this fortress bite by bite, but what have I been protecting?  Who am I , and where am I going?

"Our greatest pretenses are built up not to hide the evil and the ugly in us, but 

our emptiness. The hardest thing to hide is something that is not there."

- Eric Hoffer