THIS BEING A FRESH JANUARY …

Pierre Fontenot Thursday, January 23, 2014 0
THIS BEING A FRESH JANUARY …

Let me stand, but bend to truth.

Let me write my conclusions in pencil, and have no shame in a well worn eraser.

Let me see myself true and fit my britches.

Having paid so much for the little I know, why repay, to relearn it again?

May I grade myself with grace, like He does.

 

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There is always noise. Far noise, near noise, inside-me noise. May I never forget that the noise is the sound of mob, of herd, of shepherds needing sheep and sheep needing shepherds, and too often, both getting what they don’t need, wolves.

Attending my birth was God, attending my death will be God, why not go ahead and catch the hint that all the days between are meant to be spent with Him as First among companions.

Let me always Know who I am, no matter the situation, no matter the company, no matter their-pretend, no matter how fish-outta-water I feel.

Let me always Know where I am, whether I am at Peace or in peril, whether in Fits-me or in fooling-myself, whether in Sprout or decay-gone-to-mulch.

 

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I would like to be brave, brave enough to tell my elderly father that I love him, that he matters above mattering, that I remain in awe that the light in his lighthouse never went out; tell him each and every time I see him, tell him with words, and on less brave days, say these things with hugs, with smiles, with honest eyes.

I would like to catch strangers in the act of being impressive and attaboy them, on behalf of mankind, angels, and God-Himself.

Let me be a good counter.  Let me count to ten, before I speak.  If speaking to the wounded, let me count to ten thousand and sleep on it…

…and let me remember that we are all wounded.

The world is sharp and hard and rude: good reason for me to not be.

 

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It’s okay to touch a hundred dollar bill: not okay to clutch it.

When I Up myself to be with people, maybe I’m with the wrong people.

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Let gratefulness gauge my distance from God. In His nearness is fullness and spilleth-over; when far, I pinch emotional pennies and cling to grudge.

Let happiness have its moments but only trust in peace.

Let me emit Here-I-Am, not as see-me, but in simple, honest, revelation: one life, many scars, end not written.

 

_____    _____    _____    _____    _____

 

This edition of Uncle P’s Bedtime Stories is brought to you by Eighty-one, where we hope your New Year begins and ends with eyes on High, climbing the mystery of our lives.  

Want more Bedtime Stories?  Uncle P’s Bedtime Stories are posted on Sunday, Wednesday and Friday evenings, around 10PM, on the Eighty-one Facebook page.  Uncle P can be reached at 81creativity@gmail.com.