Silver Tree & Crimson Flood

Here I am.

Trapped.

In a cage.

Nowhere to run.

This room,

With its gray, musty walls

Closes in on me.

And I'm afraid.

Nowhere to run.

Where can I go?

Who can set me free?

It's my own guilt that holds me here.

My own sin,

My own fault.

The Master knows,

It's my fault.

The garden,

Oh how beautiful it looked!

With golden flowers,

Silver dewdrops,

Gushing streams.

It was perfect,

A place of bliss!

But now my heart breaks.

How I long to return,

To open the gates,

To dance with leaves

And sway in the wind.

But I am here.

Here, by my own fault.

If only that tree hadn't existed.

With it's silvery fruit

Bathing in the moonlight.

That one tree,

I couldn't touch.

All other plants were mine,

All their fruit,

Every twig,

Every leaf,

They were mine.

But this tree,

It was his,

And he said,

“Do not eat!”

“Do not touch!”

“For its fruit is not for mortals!”

“You, it would surely destroy!”

But the fruit!

How sweet it looked!

Shining, there, in the moonlight.

Just one touch I thought

Wouldn't hurt.

Just to touch the skin

It would surely be divine.

And a bird there in the tree,

He twittered in a agreement.

So I touched the fruit,

Such silver fruit

That hung,

There,

Upon the magic tree.

And a light began to dance

From my fingers,

Up my arm,

Entering every pore,

It filled my heart with desire.

So I took it,

and I ate.

'Twas forbidden,

but I ate!

And a dawning broke upon me

Such as I'd never had before.

I wanted to dance and scream at once

And writhe in pure, hot pain

How something can be so

Sweet and sour,

I know I'll never fathom.

And all at once a fire flamed

And it burned deep down inside me.

It burned,

How it burned!

From my inside to my out,

And my Master heard my cry,

My shrill cry of joy and pain,

And his wrath,

It poured upon me

A storm I'd never seen.

He kicked me from the garden

And locked me in this house,

Here,

In this room.

Where I'm alone,

Where no one else can see me,

And the scars I've born till now.

Every day and every evening,

I pace this horrid room.

At first glance,

It's not such a bad place,

There's lush carpet on the floor

Flowered paper on the wall

A comfy bed

A sturdy nightstand

And a silver mirror above it.

But this mirror,

It is a curse!

For every time I pass,

I see my marred complexion,

And a glimpse into the past.

If I avoid the mirror

It's really quite a nice place,

But it's nothing like the garden!

One more item fills the room,

A blessing and a curse,

For the seed of the forbidden fruit

Has grown into a tree.

And here it is my only food,

It keeps me living,

But it's death,

For every time I eat the fruit again,

I burn and scar once more.

The joy I once received,

From biting into its flesh,

Has faded by the light-years,

And I'm left without a rest.

So I'm alone.

Here,

In this room.

With not a soul to comfort me,

Not a face to give me joy.

“There is one way,”

The Master told me.

“To fix what you've undone.”

But it's a narrow way,

I was informed,

Not one most men would take,

Another must do it for me,

Because I simply,

Just can't.

Another soul must bring me,

Some living water from a stream,

Unlock the door that blocks me,

And offer me his life.

For once he steps across the threshold,

Of my musty, little house.

And sets his eyes upon me,

Death will steal his soul.

No man would dare

To do this thing,

I know I'm stuck for good.

I couldn't bear to see one die for me,

Even if he would.

It's my shame that brought me here,

My own guilt,

My own pain.

Why should another have to bear it?

And free me from this cage?

So I'll stay here forever,

In this musty, cursed room,

I don't care,

I tell my self,

But my longing is just the same,

How I want that living water,

To heal my rotten flesh!

Time passes,

And I pace,

My toes have worn

A well-paved path

Through the lush-green carpet,

And around the silver tree.

My limbs feel limp and weary,

But I dare not go to sleep,

For hunger pains will soon awake me,

And I'll have to eat again.

There!

I feel them!

Twisting my stomach in sudden agony.

I stumble toward the tree,

One hand reaching for the fruit,

The other against my flaming belly.

If only I had that water!

But no one would ever come for ugly me.

I grasp the fruit and take a bite,

A slight shimmer eases pain.

I gobble up the silver flesh,

And fling myself upon my bed.

I feel the fire burn my skin,

And I wish that I was dead.

Oh, terrible curse!

Why must you bite so long?

When will someone come to free me?

But, I know, all hope is lost.

Living water,

Won't you come?

Let me wash now in your stream,

Must I live like this forever?

Oh, such a hopeless dream!

Knock, knock!

A pounding hits the door.

My heart beats wildly.

Could it be?

No.

It can't.

I know it can't.

Who would come for miserable me?

But,

I hear it again.

The knocking once more.

“Come in,”

I say.

But I'm sure this is a dream.

The lock,

I hear it click.

The knob,

I see it turn.

The door screeches on its hinges.

And my soul,

It wants to scream!

For this man who stands before me,

He holds no bowl, no pitcher, no jug.

Where is the living water?

Perhaps he came here by mistake.

He says my name,

And I tremble,

I shake,

And hide my face.

“Don't look at me!” I cry.

“I am ugly. I am marred!”

“My face will surely kill you!”

“Flee this horrid place!”

But I feel his hands upon my shoulders,

He forces me to look his way.

Placing his fingers on my scars,

And kissing my broken face,

He whispers.

“Child,”

“I love you!”

And I cry.

I know that voice,

I know those eyes.

He is my Master's likeness!

“What are you doing here!” I scream.

Surely he wouldn't die.

But the tree within my room,

It begins to tremble and it quakes.

Its silver branches flash like spears,

The leaves rattle in a storm.

Before my very eyes it comes to life,

And uproots its hefty trunk.

My Master turns to face the tree.

His arms spread wide in peace.

“No!” I scream.

“Stay back!”

But the tree wraps its limbs around him,

As if to steal his breath.

And he doesn't say a word,

Not one

Single

Word.

And I cry,

Here.

In this room,

Where the steely branches take his life.

They squeeze his quivering body,

And I too,

Feel like my life

Is being squeezed from me.

How could he do this?

It was all my fault!

I think perhaps the tree is done,

It's awful work at an end,

But one mighty branch breaks from the rest,

Plunging deep into my Master's side.

Blood spews down his legs,

Down the tree,

To the ground,

Where the thirsty roots soak up the spill.

But the blood,

The crimson flood,

The tree drinks,

But it is shriveling!

There must be power in the blood!

The silver leaves,

They curl and drop,

The fruit decays on shrinking limbs.

And my Master slides to the carpet,

Now stained red,

A pool of blood.

I run to his side,

And kneel beside him,

Feel his pulse and know,

He is dead.

Nothing I can do.

Sorrow racks my body,

Tears tumble down my cheeks,

They splash into the river,

Flowing from his side.

Surely this man was not a man,

But someone more.

Blood seeps through my garment,

Warm and sticky.

This life-giving substance,

Floods the entire floor.

Living Water!

Could this be?

I want to vomit,

I long to run.

But something urges me.

Wash.

You must wash!

In the crimson flow!

I stare into the sparkling river.

And it whispers,

“Love is red.”

So I wash,

In pure love.

Pure, crimson love.

I splash it on my face,

On my neck,

And on my arms.

I smear it down my whole body

'Till I'm covered,

In blood.

I walk now towards the mirror,

Trembling.

But my complexion,

It is smooth!

The scars are gone!

And I am clean!

How staining blood can wash me white as snow?

Don't ask me.

I don't know.

But it is true!

I feel a hand upon my shoulder,

And I spin,

Afraid.

But he stands there,

My Master!

Alive!

“I thought you were dead!” I cry.

“I was,” he replies.

“But how..?” I begin.

He places a finger on my lips.

“How can you doubt?”

He shushes me.

“When you have seen what love can do?”

“Believe, Child!”

“I believe!” I reply, clasping his hands.

He smiles.

A beaming smile,

With a sparkling light of gold.

It fills my soul from top to bottom.

“Now, come,” he says,

Pulling me towards the door.

“See the place I have prepared for you.”

And I walk through that door,

The one that locked me,

Here

For so long.

But now I'm free.

And I know love.

True, crimson love.

Now we walk into a garden,

Filled with rainbows of colors.

Ones I've never seen before.

Lots of flowers,

Their scent weighs heavy in the air.

A water fall,

It crashes,

But makes a joyful sound,

Against the golden rocks.

The grass is green,

Pure emerald,

Filled with life.

And there are trees,

Millions of trees,

But their fruit is red,

Like love.

Tears of joy splash down my cheeks.

But my Master wipes them all away,

Puts a song within my mouth,

And we sing,

Together.

Here.

In a garden.

Made new.

The Mystery

He was and is and is to come,
He's love but He is just.
The Alpha and Omega,
He's beginning and the end.

He was king but came to serve,
Though poor He owned the earth.
He was God but He was man,
Mortal but immortal.

He was born so He could die,
And He died so we could live.
He was dead but He's alive,
And we are born again.

We were born yet born again,
And we live because One died.
We were guilty, now we're pure,
Washed in crimson blood.

We stand alone but not alone
Though we suffer, we rejoice
Maybe poor but we are rich.
We are dead but we're alive.

King's children, yet we serve,
Keeping faith in One unseen.
We live here but we're not home,
We will die but we will live.

Amazing Love

"You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." - Romans 5:6-8 NIV

Thanks to picmonkey.com for all the free photo editing tools!

First Snow

Sorry to those who have already read this on L.A.R.K. Participating in four blogs takes up quite a bit of time, plus I'm working on a story I probably won't post on here due to it's length. If I don't post for awhile, please check out L.A.R.K and Simply Sweet Suggestions as I will probably have posted on one of them.

Two angels lay on their bellies in the clouds, peeking down at human life below. The first angel, Mike, was thick and broad shouldered. He had a very serious look upon his face. His golden eyes pierced the cloud cover below, searching. The second angel, Gabe, was smaller but shared the same twinkling eyes. A yawn escaped his mouth; and he stood, stretching his arms and wings. His gaze turned to a sleeping cherub, her golden head resting on a pillow of cloud. Chuckling to himself, Gabe grasped his own pillow and tiptoed toward the dozing Goldilocks. He raised it high before launching it at the mound of curls. The cherub let out a yelp and withdrew a tiny sword. Upon seeing Gabe, she let her flashing sword slide back into it's sheath and grasped her own pillow, a determined grin on her face. Gabe's eyes widened, and he let out a whoop, starting heaven's pillow war. Unfurling his wings, he leaped into the air, the cherub at his heels. Other angels, cherubs, and seraphs joined the fray. Giggles and laughter echoed off the clouds. Someone's pillow burst, releasing a puff of white. More giggles erupted, and soon all heaven lay beneath a powdered mess.

Mike lay motionless, ignoring the play around him. Not a single feather on his wing twitched. His eyes were fixed on the life below the clouds. Temporarily dropping out of the game, Gabe hovered to his friend's side. “Why don't you come play, Mike?”

Mike barely turned his head to look up at his friend. “We have all eternity to do things like that” He motioned towards the pillow fight. “But this...” he said, pointing towards the earth. “...is temporary. Besides, see what damage you have caused below?”

Gabe peeked through the cloud cover, eyes colliding with a world of white. The tiny flakes from their pillows frosted the ground. More flakes tumbled from the clouds, dusting the trees. “It's not so bad,” Gabe insisted. “I think it's kind of pretty!”

“Yeah, but what will they think?” This time Mike pointed towards white-covered tents where tiny faces peeked out. One bold human stepped from the safety of his home to examine. He gathered a bit of the stuff in his hands and watched it shrink in size, a pool of water in its place. His eyes widened, and he frantically waved his arms, motioning for the others to join him. Laughing, the children burst from their tents, leaving a trail of footprints wherever they went.

“See, Mike, they like -” Gabe's words were cut short when something smacked him from the clouds. Pillow in hand, Mike chuckled, watching his friend's hollering form tumble towards the earth. White flakes flew back into the air when Gabe's flailing form plopped into a snowdrift. Laughing, he shook the flakes from his wings and leaped back into the air.

Meanwhile, a young girl spotted a blur of white drop from the sky and bounce back into the air. Curious, she plodded over to investigate. Stumbling across an oddly shaped canyon in the snow, she shrieked for her father to come see. “Papa, Papa!” she giggled. “Come see what I have found!” Her father dashed to his daughter's side. “Look,” she said, grasping his hand. “A snow angel!”

Reflections

Recently, I have been posting a lot of short stories. I love introducing new characters, building the climax, and hitting my point home. The process of writing a story is simply amazing; but lately I have been thinking about some of the most amazing stories I have ever heard or read. They all share a common element: Each and every one of them is true.

My family has a tradition of exchanging funny stories when we have company over - and trust me, we have a lot! A house full of seven kids(well, one's at college now) is never without excitement. Often times, our company will have a couple stories of their own to share. It's always a very encouraging time. I believe every person in this world has a story to share. Some may bring laughter, others tears, but whatever the case, they can be more touching and uplifting than any best-selling book because they are true.

On February 26th, I was reminded of my family's story, and God's working in it. Six years ago, my family adopted three new members. You can read more of the story here or check out even more on my mom's blog. As I reflect on that day, I am reminded of how changed I am because of it. Each and every one of my family member's are changed.

Our story might seem pretty amazing to some, but I want to remind you of the greatest story ever told: God's story, and His pursuit to get us back into a loving relationship with Him. Because His Son died for us, now we can be adopted into His family, even though we are so unworthy and imperfect; and His story is true!

I'm a Flower

A bitter wind bends me low,

My petals brush the littered ground.

Icy raindrops pelt my back,

I shiver, bend, and bow.

The mud has never tasted so dull.

The soil never smelled so foul

The sky is made of darkest black

Clouds boil, churn, and roll.

Light flashes for a second

Then shadows reign the world

A thunderous snap splits the air

I cower, duck, leaves curled.

The sun bursts through the clouds

and raindrops cease to fall

I raise my head up to the heavens

I stretch and smile, growing tall.

Sugar 'Cross the Sky

The night was warm yet perfect

Wind danced without a care,

The sound of serene silence

Drew my gaze into the air.

A thousand stars were sprinkled

Like sugar 'cross the sky,

My eyes devoured fully

An ocean black and white

I attempted then to count them

And give each star a name,

Yet I knew that it was hopeless

Like scattered drops of rain.

Some stars shone more than others,

Their rays shot to my heart

Illuminating wishes

And pain that rips apart.

Other stars gleamed faintly,

But still they had their place

Creating, painting, placing

An art designed by grace.

The sun rode in his chariot

Dispelling well-wished dreams,

Yet I wished the stars would linger

The tiny, twinkling teams.

But I know they'll gleam again

In their sparkling little ships,

Bringing light to life below them

And a smile to my lips.

Gaze up into the heavens

Of your heart and now relive;

See your life now brightly twinkling,

With memories to give.

Faith...

Grandpa's Teddy Bear

I know this is sort of a Christmas story, but I needed something to post. I apologize to those of you who have already read it on L.A.R.K.





Rick stepped back and admired the twinkling lights and sparkling ornaments. Leah bounced up and down around the tree, clapping her hands. “It's all done, Grandpa!”

Rick watched her, amused.“Yep. I think we did a good job. What do you think?”

“It's perfect!” She continued her excited 4-year old dance, barely dodging the boxes and packing materials that littered the floor. Leah was his only granddaughter. In fact, he hadn't even known he  had a grandchild until the end of last February. Apparently his daughter had died in a car accident, and the child's father was no where to be found, leaving Rick as the last known living relative. Rick, at first, had grudgingly welcomed the little bundle of energy into his home, but eventually he couldn't help but love the little girl. He began to think of her as his second chance at being a father. Rick knew he had failed miserably with his own children. One was now dead and the other was who-knows-where. Probably in prison. It didn't help that Rick's wife had left him, but he couldn't blame her for all the times he failed as a father. Blame and guilt rested heavily upon his shoulders.

Rick shook himself out of thought just in time to see Leah dive head long over a box. The box flipped over and its contents tumbled across the carpet. The girl crashed to the floor, bringing an abrupt stop to her excitement. At first her face was crinkled up as if she were about to burst into tears, but the expression was fleeting. Her sky-blue eyes lit up with curiosity. Leah reached for a mound of brown fur that had tumbled from the box. “What's this, Grandpa?”

Rick stooped down and took the item from her chubby hands. “I'm not sure...Ooh I remember now. This was my teddy bear when I was a boy. His box must have gotten mixed up with the Christmas decorations in the attic.”

Leah's eyes widened. “You used to play with toys?”

Rick nodded. “Mmm hmm. I was a little kid just like you once.”

“Can I hold him, pretty please?” Rick handed the bear back to the expectant hands. Brow furrowed, Leah examined the barely recognizable Teddy. Patches of fur were worn off in many places. One ear was chewed up, and the other was missing completely. One eye was also missing, and an arm barely hung by a thread. Stuffing threatened to squeeze out of the rip. “He's broken grandpa!”

“He's very old, Sweetie, and he's been through a lot.”

Leah cuddled the bear as if he were a long lost treasure. “Can we fix him?”

“I'm afraid Teddy is past fixing. He's just too broken.”

The 4-year old frowned, deep in thought. Seconds later her eyes brightened again. “No he's not! I know someone who can fix him. Mr. Gary can fix anything!”

“I'm sorry, Sweetie, but even Mr. Gary wouldn't be able to fix Teddy.” Rick said as firmly as he dared, but the rest of the evening was already ruined. Leah moped around until bedtime, cuddling the poor Teddy and saying nothing to her grandpa. Rick sighed when she was finally put to bed and he slipped between his own sheets. The normally optimistic girl had a lot to learn. Some things in life weren't worth trying to fix, or just plain impossible to put back together. Like a shattered teacup... and Rick's life.

 When Rick awoke the next morning, the alarm clock read eight o'clock. He threw off the covers and hurriedly dressed, knowing a hungry 4-year old was probably waiting on him. Rick peeked into her bedroom. Only a pile of twisted blankets lay on the bed. Dolls were scattered across the blue carpet, and her dresser drawers hung open. She was elsewhere. Rick checked the kitchen and living room next, finding them both empty. Panic began to rise in his chest. He told himself to calm down. She had to be somewhere – and with Teddy. Rick hadn't seen the bear either. After a quick check of the rest of the house and yard, and then a double and triple check, Rick's panic was justified. With shaky hands, he dialed the police. He feared he may have just failed at his second chance.

After a thorough questioning from the officers, the search began. They told Rick to stay put, just in case she returned soon. He paced back and forth for hours, until he was sure he had worn a permanent trail in the carpet. Nothing made sense to him. He had found the front door unlocked, so she must have left on her own, but why? Because she was upset about the teddy bear? No, that didn't make sense. She never stayed upset that long.

Something inside himself urged him to pray, but he couldn't. No, not him. God would never listen to him. He was a failure. Rick was just as broken on the inside, as Teddy was on the out.

The phone rang, and Rick snatched it up. “Hello? Rick, this is Linda. How are you? I heard about Leah...” Rick just about hung up. He didn't feel like listening to the old woman's chatter. Although, if he didn't listen to her now, he would have to be subjected to one of her visit's later. Reluctantly, he lifted the phone back up to his ear. “Hello? Rick? Are you still there?”

“I'm here,” he grumbled.

“Oh good. I was just wondering if you would let me pray for you...” the woman continued.

“Linda,” Rick interrupted. “God doesn't care about me. Don't bother Him.”

Silence. Linda finally spoke in a quiet but firm voice. “He does care, Richard. More than you could ever imagine.”

“You don't know everything I've done.”

“You're right. I don't, but God does. He can fix your life, Rick. Ask Him.”

Rick hung up and resumed his pacing. She had to be wrong. She didn't know anything, but God did. That's why He would never pay attention to the likes of Rick.

The front door swung open, and a wild-haired little girl, dressed in a pink shirt and green pants speckled with orange flowers, skipped inside. A purple back-pack was slung over her shoulder, and her face was beaming. “Good morning, Grandpa!” Leah greeted. Rick rushed forward and gathered his granddaughter into his arms.

Only then did he notice the police officer standing in the doorway. “Where was she?” Rick asked.

The officer shrugged. “We found her skipping down Jefferson street.”

Puzzled, Rick bid the officer farewell and embraced his granddaughter once more. She squirmed out of his grip and darted toward the Christmas tree. Leah unzipped her backpack, revealing a brightly wrapped present.

“What do you have there?” Rick asked her.

Leah grinned and pulled it out. “It's your Christmas present.” Carefully, she placed it under the tree.

He raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I can't tell you, Silly. It's a surprise,” the girl giggled. “You have to wait until Christmas.”

“Oh alright,” Rick huffed. He crossed his arms and scowled. Leah burst into more giggles.

Rick decided it was time to get serious. “Leah, look at me.” The little girl met his eyes. “Never leave the house again by yourself. You scared me half to death, and you could have been hurt.”

“But -” she protested.

“Never, Leah,” Rick said more sternly. Leah's fragile emotions broke through the surface, and she began to cry. The Marshmallow Grandpa that Rick was gathered her up in his arms and comforted the sobbing girl.


Soon in the hustle and bustle of Christmas time, the whole ordeal was forgotten. Rick was still curious from time to time what on earth could be in the package, but not wanting to ruin his granddaughter's excitement, he left it alone. He was just glad to have her back.

With snow on the ground and a chill in the air, Christmas morning came upon the small family. Leah, in her pink princess pajamas, did her happy dance around the Christmas tree. Rick chuckled and plunked down on the sofa. She hopped over to him, holding out the brightly wrapped packaged. “You first, Grandpa!” Rick was inclined to tell her to open hers first, but her bright-blue puppy dog eyes convinced him. Besides, he was curious. With trembling hands he tore open the paper. Nestled in the festive wrapping lay a perfect bear with two black button eyes and a blue ribbon around the neck, but it was undeniably his Teddy. Rick looked down at his beaming granddaughter. “How did you...”

“Mr. Gary can fix anything,” she declared.

“Oh...” was all Rick could manage. A flash of white drew his attention. A note was tied onto the ribbon. It simply read, “Remember, there is nothing too broken, that I can't fix.” Tears blurred his vision. An escapee dripped from his face and splashed onto the note, smearing away the word “broken.” Rick hugged Teddy and his granddaughter close and sobbed.