Thanksgiving Thoughts

It's thanksgiving day, far far away, and the mother goes outside to watch her kids play. The sun is setting- the darkness comes down, and no streetlights come on to light up this town. A tiny light flickers above the windowpane, and the father stands in the door, wearily resting on the doorframe. The mother turns to him with a beautiful smile; he reaches out his arms and just holds her for a while. He's thankful for all of the days that they've had, thankful that his job isn't really that bad. Thankful that he earns enough to get by, and so very thankful that his kids never cry, "Daddy I'm starving!" or "Dad I'm so cold," for there's food on the table even if the ceiling grows mold. The slums that they live in are very diverse, and right across the way is a mother singing another verse. She's rocking a baby and holding her tight, praying that God will bring sleep on this night. She's thankful for her neighbor, who's girl earns her way by tending and caring for the baby each day while the mom goes to work, just earning enough to get by, to put food on the table and not have to lie--lie down on a dirt floor with no roof for their heads, instead they get a small shack, including a bed. Yes, there is much to be thankful for on  this Thanksgiving night.
Now it's thanksgiving here, and what do we do? We fill ourselves full and pay all our dues. We make up the turkey and bake all the bread, and say our prayers politely with dreams in our head. We fill ourselves to bursting and pile on more. We pray for needy strangers but then shut and lock the door. There is so much we could do if we'd only look about; if we could stand up from our chairs and stray from our culture's route.

That being said, I think Thanksgiving is awesome. It's a time where family and friends can get together and share a meal; a delicious meal. It's a time when people join together and be thankful.
There are so many things I'm thankful for.
So many beautiful, wonderful things.

The Night the Sky Decided to Cry

Thunder and Lightning
The rain comes down.
It tries to drown out every sound.
With pounding drops and clouds overhead,
No one really lies safe in bed.
The little ones sit up, their fists in their ears.
The teenagers smile; they aren't the only ones with tears.
For the sky has decided to cry on this night,
It thunders and shouts- no one dares put up a fight.
Where are the words with the clouds cave in?
Where are the shouts when the thunder wins?
The sky is wet, but the eyes are dry,
As their minds wonder why the sky decided to cry.
Because those are tears rolling down your windowpane.
The tears of the wounded, the broken, insane.
And the thunder is roaring with anger unseen.
And the lightning proclaims; it wants the world to be clean.
It flashes, it flickers, it worries and shouts,
Until the thunder finally decides to come about.
Together they work, always in harmony,
While the rain pounds out the peaceful melody.
A thunderstorm is scary, it's wild and feared.
It's a beautiful horse that's drawn back and reared.
There is beauty in the rain.
There is cleansing from the pain.
Because in this night,
The sky decided to cry.

Montana Big Sky

I wrote this while on a trip this summer. We drove through Montana, and the sky wanted to swallow us up, and I wondered...what would my life be like here? 

The rolling hills seem to call my name. 

Brown with dead grass,

Rolling to nowhere. 

Speckled with shrubs, 

Shadowed by larger hills-

Taller hills,

Almost mountains. 

They tell stories to me-

Tales of the girl I would've been here. 

Flying through the dry grass-

A horse of my own. 

Cowgirl hat on my head,

Reins firm in my hands. 

Completely free. 

Free to be my own me. 

Free from society,

Of what other people think. 

Just me. 

Me and my Montana Big Sky. 

Too Much {Inspired by Noise, a song by Colton Dixon}

The world was spinning around and around, stars flashing before her eyes. Blues and reds and whites and purples buzzed around, blinding and beautiful and disorienting. Everything was black, all except those lights. Stretching out a hand desperately, she tried to catch hold of something, anything that she could hold onto, but there was nothing, and everything was begging for her attention.
"Me, Me, Me" They all seemed to be chanting as they buzzed around her, flying in her ears, into her eyes, attacking her back, her hands, her cheeks. "Me, Me, Me, Me."
A panic arose in her chest, and she fell to her knees, chest rising and falling rapidly, heart pounding wildly. A cold sweat dripped down her neck, and she covered her eyes, shaking her head.
"No, no, no, everyone go away, everyone go away!" She cried softly, tipping over and curling into a ball. But nothing was going to go away, they never went away. They knew she would stand up and try her best to pay attention to all of them again, eventually just to fall back down. She knew she needed to abandon some of them, leave them behind, but they were all calling so loudly and she wasn't sure of which one to let go.

Frozen

I got this inspiration the other day...and it was just kinda fun to write and think about! :-)

I imagine that one day, when Kristoff and Anna are all grown up, living in the castle, married and having kids, they'll have a blast.
Auntie Elsa lives with them, and she can make the great hall into a skating rink. Sven lives in the stables, and the kids love to sneak carrots to their daddy's reindeer. Olaf, of course, lives there too, and he runs around with his own personal flurry, saying hello to everyone and giving free warm hugs and generally being Olaf.
In the winter, it snows, and it has nothing to do with  Elsa. It simply has everything to do with the weather. Simple as that.
The morning of the first snow, every year,Anna wakes her children up early. Kristoff takes off to go and check on the ice, simply because he loves his job, and he loves his sled.
Holding her children's hands, Anna walks with them to Auntie Elsa's door, the little ones trying their  hardest not to laugh. And then, with no warning, they burst in, shouting in unison, "DO YOU WANT TO BUILD A SNOWMAN?!?!?"
Elsa sits up, a bright smile written all across her face, as she meets Anna's gaze.
Anna smiles back.
She's letting Elsa build a snowman.
She's giving Elsa her childhood.

A Broken Schedule, A New Start

Unfortunately, most of the time, life does not follow a schedule. 

For example...

I wanted to blog. 

Once a week,

Every week. 

Turns out...

This is my first blog in what,

Two months?

Three?

I had a goal.

That goal was to write every day.

Continue along with my book.

NOT get writers block.

What happens?

Everything feels bland.

My imagiation decides to take over.

Guess what? 

I'm starting over.

Again.

But maybe...

Sometimes...

Starting Over is all it takes. 

Clicking the "New Document" icon.

Seeing something fresh and new.

A blank screen. 

Knowing that when you begin to type,

It will be something new.

Something better. 

Sometimes...

That's all it takes. 

A fresh start. 

A "Can we start over?" 

A new friendship forged out of the old.

A new story, inspired by what's past.

Or simply,

A revival.

A new promise.

That might not get kept,

Because we're human.

And honestly?

We fail.

But that's okay,

Becuase forgiveness is possible.

So forgive me?

I'm willing to start a new document.

Open my Bible once again.

Put my fingers on the piano once again.

Wake up early once again.

Continue on the path into the unknown. 

Because it's a new day,

If you want it to be.

A new moment,

A new dawn,

A new schedule,

A new start.

The Seventh Door--Bryan Davis

A few months ago, I had the privilege of reading The Seventh Door by Bryan Davis before it was published, and enter a review that is published in the book itself! I highly recommend this series to anyone who enjoys any fantasy of any kind. He also has another new story-world, a dystopian genre; The Reapers Trilogy. All of Bryan Davis' works are simply phenomenal. 

The Seventh Door is simply another beautiful edition to this particular story world of Bryan Davis. Masterfully written, this story provides you with a whirlwind of emotion and imagination.  These characters feel real--they remove themselves from the page and become lodged in your own imagination. For some reason, they seem real. God is so present in this book, and his presence there encourages me to look through the trials of life and sacrifice myself, trying my best to  become an Oracle of Fire. Thank you, Mr. Davis, for such a wonderful world of imagination.