Monthly Archives: December 2015


The crevasses of my heart
Quiver and quake
Filled with soul searing pain
White hot with wounded pride and agonizing defeat

The battle ages in coming
Was over in an instant
Done too soon
Finished by white hot anger
And electric blue sorrow

Numerous casualties
Infinite missing
An infinity of regrets
An eternity of shattered dreams

The battle’s lost
The war’s unwon
History’s unfinished


The Warrior

Author’s Note: This is the first poem I wrote that could be tied to the War and Peace Saga. I like it, but I’m having that writer’s ambivalence about adding poetry to what is rightfully a series of vignettes.

The longest night of the year
Darkened to coal black by her heart’s darkness
Her sword, heavy and burdensome,
Made onerous by the blood-guts
Of years of skirmishing the enemy

Smoke heavy and grey
Chokes her
With the confusion and miscommunication
So common to this fight

Child warriors litter the battlefield
Birthed too early for full maturity
They ran to fight too soon
Ill prepared for the wiles of the enemy
They ignorantly wandered onto the battlefield
Slain by fire from friend and foe

She surveys the territory
Soaked in blood
But it’s wrong
The wrong blood has been applied
So no remedy exists for tactical errors
Of the church militant

She longs to be in her living quarters
Adorned for a life mate
Coming to return her to paradise, to peace
Yet the Bridegroom waits, tarries
And the battle continues

She melds into the scene
Drawn to a quiet place
So absent in a land of chaos
Her bloody sword thumps in the bloody grass
She sinks to her knees
As the battle rages
No words escape her lips
Her heart’s rhythm
The only prayer

She waits

Remembering the Innocents

A long time ago, one of my former denominational pews was the Roman Catholic church. They have tons of feasts and solemnities and holy days. The oddest one to me was always tucked somewhere in the week between Christmas and New Years. It was the Feast (solemnity?) of the Holy Innocents.

On this feast, the Gospel Reading came from the book of Matthew. It chronicled the bizarre decision Herod made.

In hearing of the birth of a new king and that the wise men had escaped reporting his location, Herod chose to kill every male child that had an age that fit the range of the new king. Meanwhile, Joseph smuggled Jesus and Mary to safety in Egypt. (Never made sense to me. In effect, he killed future soldiers and left himself short in about 15 years.)

Usually, the priests focused their sermons on pro-life, anti-abortion topics. Birth control was anathema, and women were painted as only having value as baby incubators. (Sorry, feminazi rising up. Back to topic…I’ve digressed.)

I want to propose this as a holiday for all people of good will who love life, light, and truth. Instead of focusing on abortion, focus on loving the children in your life. Not just the polite, kind children who are easy to love, but also the ones that break your heart.

Love the little street urchin in ragged clothes with a dirty face and unwiped nose. Give him a treat, or buy her something slightly used to keep the chill out. Or invite them inside on a cold day for videos or family game time.

Have your kids be friends with that teen no one wants to hang out with. Maybe she’s overweight and covered in pimples the size of Mount Olympus, or maybe he’s always angry and tired for reasons he would never speak of, even to closest friends.

Open your home to that Goth kid. You might find he has a dazzling singing voice, or she has an active heart and mind writing the next great American tragedy. All the kid needs is a safe place to grow and explore without fear of teasing, bullying, or criticism.

If you’re a mandated reporter and you’ve seen something, make that call. Nothing may happen, and the abuse may continue. Or you could save a child a lifetime of pain and agony, as well as prevent a societal tragedy in the form of a school shooting or mall firing spree.

Befriend the single parent. Add some extra food for a family dinner and invite that family over. Offer to keep the children and hand the parent a gift certificate for a movie, coffee shop, or spa treatment. Or write a letter of encouragement listing all the good skills the parent has.

It isn’t enough to say we love someone. We have to show our love by our actions. To remember those snuffed out tragically and too soon, we need to love the ones left behind. Let’s remember the holy innocents by honoring and loving all the children in our lives, especially the tough nuts to crack.

Current Deluge

A deep and dazzling darkness drenches the land.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nowhere to have true security,
The enemy is at the gate.
The gate swings both ways,
And no one guards the gate.

The time is now!
Rise up!
Stand firm!
Cry out!

If we fail to fight now,
We are a marked nation, doomed, destroyed.
We are sheep led to a foul and tainted pasture,
Soon to be shorn then slaughtered,
And left to wine and dine vultures and swine.

Kittie’s Littered Musings, #3


In the weeks leading to Christmas, my husband has been singing bits and pieces of the song, “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.” While we girls gave him some symbolic hippos, I would argue that he already has what he needs. Come with me as we meander down the mental tangles that allow me to make this assertion.

The roots for the word hippopotamus mean “river horse.”

I often argue that he has to consider me a skittish Arabian mare. That is, I’m fine and true, but you’d best watch for my hooves if you make the wrong moves. Wrong moves are easy when you deal with survivors of abuse and/or bullying.

I am also a charismatic devoted to the Holy Spirit. Jesus often said that the Holy Spirit would be like rivers of living water flowing from our belly.

Therefore, his skittish Arabian mare who moves and grooves in the Holy Spirit can be considered a hippopotamus. He’s had what he wanted all along; he just didn’t know it.

Stats on Blogs

I question the value of keeping stats on blogs. Sometimes, the purpose of a blog is to put ideas out there. I don’t necessarily care how many views I have, how many have liked a piece, or how many have visited the blog.

I would rather see things like a list of my followers and which pieces they’ve liked or a list of the best categories in which I’ve written pieces or a cross-analysis of length of pieces versus number of likes.

Although, that said, I’m not sure I’d want those kinds of numbers kept on me. I’m not sure I’d want that kind of granularity in the data on me. Perhaps, the whole numbers game, especially on a blog written for pure enjoyment, is a bad thing and too much like Big Brother.

Gender Benders

My current denominational pew is working on revising its position on marriage. It won’t declare wrong is right, but it will try to further define and solidify its stance Biblically.

I’ve seen some drafts being done by individual churches or pastors. They tend to be vague and high level, perhaps to offer some protections against lawsuits for individual cases.

Unfortunately, I don’t think they are quite ready for the complexities they will face. For example, let’s say a person with a female body and female gender identity wants to marry a person with a male body and female gender identity. Do you define marriage based on the biological body, which in this case would be Biblically permissible? Or do you define marriage based on the gender identity, which probably would not be Biblically permissible?

The True Cost of Freedom

Do you know the cost of true freedom?

  • Crust of bread, drops of wine, and kisses on the cheek for 30 pieces of silver and a pound of betrayal
  • 39 lashes with dead animal skin, shards of bone, and shredded humanity
  • Thorns driven to bone through flesh like butter and love pierced by mocking hatred
  • Splintering beams crushing compassion beneath the fractures of lust and hypocrisy
  • Going the distance bleeding out with all your friends gone and your mother crying out
  • Nails driven to beams by man’s inhumanity to man
  • Hanging alone in the sun in the absence of the Father’s gaze, the job of a God done by One bereft of His Father’s presence
  • Skies darken, the earth shakes, the veil is torn, His life is snuffed out

Do you know the cost of true freedom?

One solitary life infinitely divine yet finitely mortal
Freely given to purchase true freedom.

Forgiveness ran red to pardon every sin.
Mercy flowed scarlet to justify the soul.
Grace granted in vermillion to sanctify the saint.
Healing given in titian to break chains.

Freedom is never free.
The cost is high.

Choose love to testify to the price we can never pay.
Choose life to honor the debt we can never fulfill.

Freedom’s National Debt

It’s time for hard home truths to hit home. Freedom is never free, and it’s only one head-turn from elimination.

Soldiers and sailors fight to protect and defend this freedom. They know the cost even before their boots hit the floor in the morning. A cup of coffee today becomes a body bag tomorrow.

Do you know the cost of your freedom?

I can visit a church, write a blog, sing a song. I do this freely. No one stops me if I follow reasonable rules. They paid the high price for this freedom I have.

Yet in an instant, it could be gone. The church I freely attend today could lead to a heavy fine tomorrow. The words I type today could lead to my imprisonment tomorrow. The song I casually sing in a supermarket today could instantly snuff out the shine of my life tomorrow.

Do you know the cost of your freedom?

You choose today.
Tomorrow will be too late.