A Stranger

A stranger’s kindness can change your mind,

Their actions can sway you

And change you in time.

A stranger’s insult can burn real deep,

The words can cut

And they sometimes keep.

A stranger’s smile can brighten a day,

Bring light to a darkness

What kind of stranger were you today?

The Frog (Or, Comfortable is not always right)

I find comfort in the songs, sung a capella, in an echoy place.
I find comfort in the benches, hard, but familiar.
I find comfort in the monotonous cadence of the minister as he speaks.
I find comfort in the blessing, the same one I heard as a child.

I find discomfort in the hipocrasy.
I find discomfort in the closed minds.
I find discomfort in the exclusivity.
I find discomfort in the judgement.
I find discomfort in the ideology.

While temporary comfort is a solace, the frog didn't jump out of the pot when it started to boil. His comfortable world warmed up around him and he didn't notice the overall feel. That resulted in his death.

We all know that story and how it goes, so why do I keep jumping between the hot pot, that I know is hot and a cooler one. Why do I feel the need to sit back down on that hard bench and hear that monotonous voice when I disagree with every other word? When I no longer find solace in that hot kettle and I am searching for one that won't boil over and leave me feeling empty.

More Life and Death

There is something about witnessing a death that puts life into perspective.

Pulse fades

Breaths slip

Stop

And what was, still is, but isn’t

Breaths catch

Tears come

Silence

And Truth sets in

Sobs begin

Jaws shake

Reality

Arms reach out for something, someone

Even if you didn’t know him

You can feel the presence of this man

As his family holds his hand
In this body, in the bed, minutes ago lived a man -who now is dead.

Grace

I recently heard a sermon when I was home that stated that people leave the church because they feel that God's grace couldn't possibly cover their sins. Basically they leave because of a lack of God's grace. Sitting on my hard wooden bench, listening through the whispers of kids playing on the benches ahead of me and their parents hushing them, I fought the urge to yell BS! If I was to pick a reason to describe why people leave, its not because of a lack of God's grace but a belief that God has more grace than this church will admit. While I am admittedly struggling in the religion department, personally I believe that assuming their is a God (I think so) he/she is going to give grace to more than just a few scattered North American congregations. This brings to mind a lecture I got in a college religion class.
During a war at one point in the history of this world, a military official was with another from the Asia or the Middle east. As they were strolling the streets of whatever city they happened to be in, they heard a man calling out in prayer to his God. The local official looked to the man of America and asked "Does your God hear his prayers?" This spiked a thought train for the official. If his God didn't heard the prayers how could he be all knowing? If he heard did he answer them? If he heard but did not answer the calls of this man in need what kind of God was he? If he heard and answered then what does that mean for Christianity?
The church I grew up in is small, maybe 5,000. According to them they are the only ones who will be saved, along with all the children of this world. Everyone else is screwed. If people are leaving because they feel there is a lack of grace, it is not the grace to cover their own sins but the sins of the world.

My Voice

Sometimes I struggle,

To hear my own voice,

To know what’s from me,

And what’s external noise.

Sometimes it’s hard,

To hear my own mind,

To know what I want,

And what to leave behind.

Sometimes I wonder,

Was that my choice?

Or something another.

Said, over my voice.

Sometimes I wonder,

Where I would be,

If no one else’s thoughts mattered

And I did things for me.

An Easy Way

I wish there was an easy way,

To say, Hei Hei!

And a leave without a peep.

I wish there was an easy way,

One without a price to pay,

Or a price that’s not so steep.

I want to take different road,

One that goes away.

A road that brings me somewhere new,

Where I want to stay.

I want to take a different road,

Problem is I’m told,

If you take a different road,

Some will likely scold.

But if the way was easy,

And my burdens here were light,

Then perhaps I would not learn as much,

Or understand the plight.

Chance

Chance is something that you can't predict,
You can try to make rules
but they just don't stick.

Chance can surprise you for better or worse
Things will get dicey
not like you rehearsed.

Chance is opportunity, a chance to really find,
What are your true feelings,
are there any that you hide?

Chance is what keeps us guessing,
Always wondering now,
what will be the next thing, and when and why and how.

Life and Death

Hands grip

Knuckles white

Trying to reach

That end light.

Sitting on the hard hard floor

Staring at a far away door,

Wishing there was less, or more.

Teeth clenched

Breathing tight

So you know,

It’s not alright.

So sincere

Not a tear

Knowing death is near.

There is something horrible about your hands being the only thing separating a cloth from tightening around the neck of someone attempting to take their own life. To pull away with all your might, only to have them work harder in return. To see the look in their eyes. As they look through you. Your words meaning nothing to them as you cry for them to stop, to listen to you. But they see through your clichés and they see your fear. They are in control and control is something they don’t have. You are pushed away but you can’t stop because if you did, if you would have blood on your hands. It’s a struggle between life and death.
(after note: this is based on something that happened at work)

Sometimes

Sometimes we are down and don’t know what to do,

Sometimes the world keeps clashing with you.

Sometimes the days drag on into nights,

Sometimes it feels things will never be right.

That’s when we need a friend.

Sometimes our plans crash in our faces,

Sometimes life takes us to strange, new places.

Sometimes our minds take us on long trips,

Sometimes we struggle as loneliness slips, in.

That’s when we need a friend.

Sometimes we knew what we wanted,

Only to find when we get it we are daunted.

Sometimes it’s hard to know,

Exactly which path is the one we should go.

That’s when we need a friend.

Sometimes life throws kinks in our plans,

Coming up with things we don’t understand.

But no matter where life takes us or not,

I’m glad that I’ve got,

You.

My Friend.

To help me through life,  during the sometimes when I need it most.