Rhapsody in the Key of 'F'

 Reposted from FB from 29MAR09

Rhapsody in the Key of 'F'

    For felipe, who understands that a free-spirited heart needs to express itself as it was designed to do.

Rhap-so-dy

-Music. an instrumental composition irregular in form and suggestive of improvisation.

-An ecstatic expression of feeling or enthusiasm.

-an unusually intense or irregular poem or piece of prose.

    He is singing about the smiling sky; and I feel my heart melt with every word. He is singing about the shining sun; and I am shocked to catch a glimpse of the future. I see him singing again. But this time, the song is 'The Bedtime Song' and his two curly-headed sons are looking up at him with adoration.

    Purely, I feel lust. I want his straight back. I want his pale chest with the few black hairs peeking through his partially unbuttoned blue-and-white patterned shirt. I want his flat stomach and strong legs. I want to be a part of him. I want to be inside him.

    He turns to look at me one last time before he leaves. His brown eyes are smiling, along with his mouth. In his look, I see friendship. I see family. I see a certain kind of want that is not quite lust and not quite not. Is that possible? Am i seeing things?

    I find I want to touch his leg--just above the knee--in a proprietary way. And I want to feel the heat from his chest against my back as he stands just behind me with his hands on my hips in the same proprietary way. I want him to own me. I want to own him.

Picking Peaches, a prose poem

 Reposted from FB on 25MAY09

Picking Peaches

I spent this Memorial Day under a perfect, blue, cloudless, Arizona sky 

as the sun shimmered down upon my brown, and red and blonde and silver hair

whilst I tromped through the--sometimes--waist-high, unkempt grass in search

of beautiful red-orange perfection.

I spent this Memorial Day under the sun as she tanned everything on my arms 

except that odd, upside-down triangle scar on my left wrist

whilst I watched the yellow and blue and white and purple weeds trumpeting

their unintentional, yet beautiful praises of perfection.

I spent this Memorial Day under the sun as she warmed my freckled 

Scottish and Irish and English and Cherokee face

whilst I flitted through fields, playing with the white butterflies who must have 

just escaped from their ugly cocoons into a world where were 

suddenly and perfectly beautiful.

Then, I remembered on this beautiful Memorial Day

whilst I tromped and watched and flitted that EVERYTHING,

even the most ugly and imperfect things, can be beautiful and perfect 

when they truly touch God.

A Treatise on Belle

 Reposted from FB from 09JUL09

A Treatise of Belle

I'm quite certain that some of my readers will wonder why in the world I am writing about this particular subject.  The subject was brought up in class the other day and I've been thinking about it--off and on. The subject, you ask? The Disney movie, 'Beauty and the Beast.'

One of my classmates (whom I like very much, by the way--just in case you are the phantom reader who reports my posts) mentioned her dislike for this particular movie. In her opinion, it is a terrible movie for young girls to watch because it teaches them several bad lessons and because some bad things happen in it.

For example:

a) A young girl is imprisoned by someone throughout most of the film.

b) Her love 'saves' him in the end.

c) Several other things that I can't remember cos It has been about two weeks since we had this conversation.

I will admit that I can see from where some of her concern comes. It is kind of a dangerous lesson that-if you love someone--they will change their bad behavior.  Most of the time, that doesn't happen. However, I think there are several great lessons and examples from this film. They are:

a) Belle is intelligent--a reader, and thinks for herself. These facts are evidenced by the fact that she sees beyond the conventionally good-looking veneer of Gaston, and she sees his ugliness.  Later, though she is scorned by many people in her town because of it, she rejects him because he is not the kind of man with whom she wants to spend her life. She wants someone who will love her for both her beauty AND her brains. Gaston is only interested in her beauty, and--in fact--encourages her not to think too much.

b) Belle is selfless. This fact is evidenced by the fact that--though she sees the horrible beast with whom she will have to spend the rest of her life--she stays in the castle to take her father's place because he is sick and needs medical care. Add to this the fact that she assumes that she will have to spend the rest of her life in the dungeon because that is where she finds her father.  The fact that the Beast allows her to live in a comfortable room in a four-poster bed with a talking wardrobe--well, that is just a fringe benefit. She does not know the situation will change when she decides to take her Daddy's place.

c) She sees beyond the ugliness of the Beast into the beauty of his character which he EVENTUALLY develops. Most people will not look beyond the ugly or the fat or the disfigured to see the beauty of the real person underneath. Belle really should get some credit her. Additionally, it was another fringe benefit that he turned into a cartoon hunk just after the last rose petal fell. She was willing to accept him as he was--hair and all.

d) You know, I was thinking that very few people change without the influence of someone else. So, I'm not really sure Belle's love saved the Beast, anyway. I just think he was influenced by her gentler nature. He saw an example of the kind of person he would rather be, so his attitude changed. With that change of attitude, Belle was able to see what was underneath his ugly exterior and fell in love. In the end, however, no matter how great an influence one person is, the other person will NOT truly change unless that person WANTS to change. Someone can wish and hope and plan and dream that the one they love will change, but their loved one wont' change unless he wants to do so. That is a fact. Plain and simple.

Just a few thoughts, my peeps, in defense of Belle and the general message of the movie. By the way, none of this was meant in any sort of aggressive or angry way. I'm just expressing my feelings. I hate to have to add that sort of proviso, but it seems I am misinterpreted by most of the people with whom I've come in contact lately. It is a little frustrating. 

A Note of Thanks

 Reposted from FB  from 27JAN10

A Note of Thanks

January 26th, 2010

Dear Mrs. Tindall,

Our records indicate that your gift of cream cheese and chives crackers were invaluable in staving off the hunger of one of our clients this morning at 3:21 a.m.

Please accept our sincere thanks for your efforts in hunger relief.  If it were not for the assistance of people like you, many people throughout the world would not make it to the dawn without becoming very, very hungry.

Please keep up your good work in this very worthy cause.

Sincerely,

Benjamin Quixote, Head Hunger Fairy

Snow Music

 Reposted from FB from 14FEB10

Snow Music

The wind rages fiercely outside my window as i fall asleep--warm and safe--tucked under my blue fleece blanket on which a black and white cow jumps over a yellow moon.

The quiet is loud as I stand--motionless on the front porch--looking out at this beautiful white and grey world. The snow seems to have cleansed everything. Ground, trees, mailboxes, and even sky are monochromatic white.

In my borrowed, brown sandals and white socks, i step onto the crispy, crunchy, unmarred snow and marvel that I am here--surrounded by this wonder of God's creation--and that it is me, Loralee, who is making the first marks in this pristine snow.

This natural and quiet beauty affects everything around me. Even the grey birds chirp--behind me and beside me, joyfully and colorfully singing their awe.

From tree branches, house eaves, and telephone wires, the melting snow drops down--with vehemence--onto the brown and yellow leaves like a brisk spring rain, signalling the coming of something new.

Constitutional

 Repost from FB, 04MAR10

Constitutional

  A serene, cloudless, cerulean sky greets me as I close the front screen door. The amazing blue reminds me, not only of an Arizona sky, but also of Amelia's eyes as I check to see if my hips, shoulders, and ears are aligned and begin my doctor-ordered walk.

A tiny, pale-yellow butterfly friend accompanies me on my walk. She flutters along, slowly, dipping down--here and there--to visit a flower or a piece of grass or to check her look in the glass of a passing window.

The brittle brown leaves skitter along in front of me on the sidewalk--stopping and starting in a unknown pattern--encouraged by a gentle, patient, and persistent wind

My butterfly friend disappears over the top of a dark-grey, slate roof and--when I am sure she is gone for good--reappears in front of me and heads back the way we came.

I smile and turn slowly as she passes by me--close enough to touch if I were inclined to do so--and watch as she flutters--unsure--over the property line between our house and the next. She alights on our side to rest a bit and to make sure I get in the house for my own rest.

Goodbye Arizona Sky and Brown Playful Leaves and Butterfly Friend--my fellow creatures of God.  Rehab is easier for me when you join me on these daily constitutionals.

April Evening 02APR10, a poem

 Reposted from FB, 05APR10

April Evening, 02APR10

Birds sing pretty tunes

outside my mother's window

as the sun goes down.

Seeing Through God's Eyes

 Reposted from FB May 20th, 2010

Seeing Through God's Eyes 

           While recovering from cervical spine surgery, I tried to branch out a bit.  I read a LOT--everything from 'The Reagan Diaries' to 'The Case For Christ' to Lloyd Alexander's series 'The Book of Three.'  I learned to like a few new bands and songs. I even took a painting class with my Aunt Gail.

        During that class, I re-learned some of the basics of painting and even learned some new things. I learned how to mix my own colors and about the different kinds of brushes and what can be created using each different one. I learned how to make 'reflections' on water and even how to erase my mistakes--if I catch them soon enough!

        On my last day of class, my teacher, Joyce, was showing me how to put the finishing touches on my painting. My job was to paint a few pieces of 'uniquely-hued" grass right around the front of the trees. Since she didn't think I needed very many of these fuchsia and orange grasses, she was reluctant to allow me to add those colors to my palette. This was because most people--when squeezing paint out of the tube onto the palette--use too much and waste the paint.

        To solve this problem, Joyce brought me one of those small plastic containers filled with the leftover paint from previous weeks. She showed me how to take the tiny, pointy brush (Okay--so I didn't learn ALL the names of the brushes), dip it into water to thin out the paint, and then paint the grasses.

        So, here I was dipping my brush into this small plastic container filled with paint. As I dipped I thought, "Well, I never thought I'd be using this contraption as a palette. Just goes to show ya that almost anything can be used to be creative. You just can't count anything out, can ya?"

        Immediately, I stilled. You know, the way they do in the movies when someone has an epiphany? I thought again, "It's kinda like Christianity, yeah? You just can't count anyone out." Christians come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. People--who aren't anything like what we think Christians are or ought to be--can BECOME Christians. They can be affected by the Gospel and then be molded and shaped by God's Word.

        It is easy to behave like the people described in James 2:1-3. We decided-based on someone's dress or words or actions--that they wouldn't be interested in learning about God's love. And really, who are we to judge?  When Jesse presented Eliab as a possible future King of Israel, God, Himself, said, "Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (II Samuel 16:7)

Just a few verses later (vss. 11-13), David, the youngest of Jesse’s boys, was picked over all his elder brothers. This was just the beginning of David’s usefulness to God. By the end of his life, God described David as a man after his own heart.

In Bible times, women weren’t really looked upon as equal citizens in ability or with. Nevertheless, the Bible is rife with examples of women who helped make the church stronger. Dorcas, for example, was well-known for her godly works. (Acts 9:36, 39) She spent her days making clothes for those who were needy and participating in acts of kindness and goodness toward other people. Lydia, a businesswoman in the city of Thyatira, upon learning of God’s love, obeyed HIs commands and immediately began working at encouraging brethren and strengthening the Kingdom. (Acts 9 and 16:24, 15,& 40)

In II Timothy 1:5, Paul gave kudos to Lois and Eunice, the mother and grandmother of Timothy for their work in making Timothy the man he was--Paul’s right hand man. Mary Magdalene began her spiritual journey as a demon-filled woman. After the demons were expelled, she began contributing monetarily to the work of God. (Luke 8:2)  Mary, was one of the few standing at the cross as Christ died, (John 19:25) and was in the group who discovered His empty tomb on the third day. (John 20:1-2) Despite her dubious origins, Mary was clearly part of that special group of people with whom Christ spent His last days.

Peter, along with his brother, Andrew, was merely a fisherman working in a family owned business when he met Christ. However, he helped them to become ‘fishers of men.’ (Mark 1:16-18), and--on the day of Pentecost--thousands of souls were added to the Kingdom because of his efforts. (Acts 2: 41, 42, 47)

If we are looking through the feeble and cloudy eyes of man, it is so easy to misread people and their intentions and attitudes. Back in November of 1991, My sister and brother-in-law at their first meeting with me, saw--instead of an immoral, alcoholic fornicator--a soul who needed God’s love and forgiveness. I thank God greatly for their clear and loving eyes. I hope we’ll all make diligent efforts to see people through the eyes of God. Just some food for thought. Love y’all!

Lists, a poem

 Repost from FB

This haiku just popped outta me in just a few minutes this afternoon--a day too late for Mother's Day, but the muse works when she wants to do so, yeah?  This poem was written particularly with Mary Tindall in mind; however, there are many other moms of other people whom I consider moms to me. This is also for Rachel's mom; and Mark and Russel's mom; and Jordan, Jacob, and Micah's mom; and Christine, Luke, and Aubrey's mom; and Timothy, Andrew, and Phillip's mom; and speaking of Philip--a different one, and Catherine, and Edmund's mom; and--well, really, the list could go on and on, yeah? So, if you're a mom tome, and y'all know who y'all are--this is for you!!

Lists 

Mary, though 'Lou Ann's

Mom' on my phone list, is--in

my heart's list--mother.

Superman #2, a poem

 Repost:

Hey, Guys,  This is another haiku in my 'Superman' series, so, as you're reading it--especially if you have daughters--think of you and her and your relationship you can do the same with the boys, just don't think of them as 'her!'  LOL

Superman # 2

A Pollyanna

plant, when put in the sun, grows

exponentially.

Superman, #1, a poem

 Repost:

I was home on leave from Luke Air Force Base at Christmastime, sometime in the early 90s. Vicky and Douglas were still living at home, and--surprisingly--Lana was home,too.  Getting all four of us home at the same time was always a challenge. Perhaps, it was that we were all home that made Daddy get sentimental; but, I remember a conversation we all had sitting in that living room at 422.

Smiling that smile he has when he is happy, Daddy told us that were were each his favorite child. I remember wondering how in the world that was possible when he explained with four stories. I don't remember why Lana and Douglas were his favorite, though I can hazard a guess. Lana was his first born and Douglas was his last born, and only boy. Vicky's reason had something to do with his meeting Mom (step-mom, officially, though--in my heart--complete and total REAL MOM).  

Mine had its start with a play pen.  Some of y'all will be old enough to remember that device. A mother could place her child in it along with several toys and a sippy cup, and the child would play by himself for quite some time. Daddy and Mother had one of those for me when I was still in diapers. It was obviously a usual thing for me to spend the later part of my afternoons in that gizmo because Daddy's favorite moment for me involved the play pen. When he walked in the front door of our home, he would shout a greeting to us.  According to him, every day--when I heard his voice--I would crane my neck back in order to see him.  To me, his voice came from somewhere way up high, as if my Daddy was 12 feet tall--bigger and better and cooler and funnier and more wonderful than any other man alive.  This poem comes from that memory.

Superman # 1 

No matter how old

I get, you'll always be as

tall as the ceiling.

Summer Rain, a poem

 15MAY10

Summer Rain 

Water, smelling pure

raining, vehemently down

from a sunny sky.

Moving Day, #2, a poem

15MAY10

Moving Day #2

My car, loaded to

the brim with bags, boxes and

gifts of love from y'all.

My hand, waving out

the car window as smaller

and smaller y'all grow.

My heart, as I drive

south, filled with memories of 

happy times with y'all.

Moving Day, #1, a poem

 23FEB10

Moving Day, #1

As I move boxes from my car to Nat's barn, the air

is an

ominous gray, and

crisp, and

cool.

Ruby's brown eyes are gazing at me

protectively, and

watchfully, and

curiously.

She is intrigued--and perhaps--charmed by me as I 

whisper, and 

then talk, and 

finally, sing to her.

She approaches me at first

slowly and 

then forcefully and 

finally, confidently.

As I bring my face near to hers in a gesture of friendship, her horsey breath

tickles my ear, and

warms my cheek, and

fogs my right eyeglass lens.

The giggle which escapes my mouth is

surprised, and

then delighted, and

finally, joyful!

At that moment, I am

extremely, and

fervently, and

vehemently certain

That this world God made is a 

happy, and 

wonderful, and 

beautiful place to be.

The Dog Who Was A Cat, a poem

 24MAY10

The Dog Who Was A Cat 

Her tail is pointing

out as straight as a ruler.

Her front paw is bent.

She is watching and 

still as she focuses on

a nearby squirrel.

She creeps forward like

a jungle lion ready

to pounce on her prey.

The squirrel sees her

and stills, hoping to become

one with the brown bark.

Wary, predator

and prey eye one another

seeing who'll move first.

Moments pass while dog

and squirrel fight a battle

of strength and patience.

The hunt ends as dog

pounces and squirrel escapes

safely up her tree.

East Texas Living, a poem

 30MAY10

East Texas Living 

Gentle winds blowing

through pink and white blossoms on

the mimosa trees.

Lazy, tan-and-white 

dog dozing on the front porch,

ignoring the bugs.

Warm, slate grey heavens

signaling an impending

afternoon rain storm.

Wafting through the air,

the scent of magnolia

blossoms, smelling sweet.

Soothing highway hum

from Ninety-Six competing

with joyful bird song.

Back and forth rhythm

of wooden porch swing lulling

away today's toils.

When my friend, Donald (from Dallas) originally read this, he responded in semi-haiku:  He said, "Sounds like an improvement on...                            So many people--

                                                          Heat, noise, traffic congestion,

                                                                  and planes overhead.

Watching The Day As She Ends, a poem

 31MAY10

Watching The Day As She Ends

The phone call between

me and the 'puter geek guy

was interrupted.

I found Dale and Pop

coming back from the mailbox.

There were no letters! :(

We heard thunder from 

the south and signed at the thought

of rain. No such luck!

The dimmed light through cloud

cast an otherworldly glow

on the ground below.

Magnolia and

Mimosa and Gardenia

blossoms enthralled us.

Tomorrow's Delight

was foretold by the pale pink

clouds and soft blue sky.

Pop and I--on the

side porch--don't really mind that

we're not on the phone.

We're just loving the

beauty, watching the day as

she comes to her end.

Commissioned (well, free really) Poem for Ben Hartley

 06JUN10

On Interstate Ten

The hum of truck tires lulls me 

to sleep. Hope I live!!

Dear Ben, When you asked if I had been inspired by the trip, I hadn't yet.  Your comment did, though. I figured you'd enjoy the humor in this one. It seems like something YOU'D say!

His comment to me was:

Hmm, yes. I might need this one for a bedtime story. It just might work...unless an airbag nightmare wakes me up. :)  Thanks for the poem!

Lesson learned from downtown Houston 12JUN10

 In the midst of steel and stone and glass and tar and engine noises from cars, buses and machines, I saw one wispy, white cloud passing by, highlighting the blue sky; and two yellow birds flying past (I think they might have been making their way to Rockport) and three green trees--whose leaves and limbs were shaking and swaying in the wind--and was reminded awesomely and simply of the God Who Exists--ALWAYS--despite the chaos which surrounds us.

Words of Affirmation: Heather Sanders

 April 2nd, 2012,

Loralee,  You know I am not one to throw around compliments lightly, and when I do say it, I really mean it...

YOU should be writing for a living. PERIOD, no question.  This is what you are called to do, and extremely gifted at, and if you should ever need it, I would be honored to illustrate this story for you. (Especially if Homer is a white egret!)

Words of Affirmation: Guy Crain

So, have y'all ever heard of the 5 Languages of Love? It's a book which goes through--in depth--the five ways most people feel loved. They are: Gifts, Acts of Service, Quality Time, Touch, and Words of Affirmation.

Mine are--in descending order--Words of Affirmation, Touch, and then the other three. :)   So, when I get especially encouraging, touching, etc. 'Words of Affirmation', I write them down! Here is # 1.

Guy is a young man who went to Brown Trail after I had already graduated, but I was still a member of the congregation.  I kinda had a little crush on him at the time.  Anyway, time passed, he got married, had a kid, his wife left him for another man, and we had gotten back in touch with each other.  Nothing was going on, but a friendship which was encouraging. We talked on the phone and were people who filled a need for each other at that time in our lives.  I've since lost touch--again, but I'm sure he is having a lovely life, playing his guitar, and helping his wife raise that little boy (although the boy might be a grown-up by now.)   Anyway.... 

From Guy to me:

-A heart-felt amen to all your frustration and confusion about the suffering and injustice in the world.  

-And a heart-felt amen to your affirmation that God is still nonetheless good and just even beyond our capacity to understand. BOTH amens are very important, I think. (not just the first one, Mr./Ms.Unbeliever, and not just the last one, Mr./Ms. Preaching School Graduate. =o)

-I am humbled by the colossal size of your heart and its endless well of compassion. You are an example to me.

A HUGE PROJECT

Good evening, Everyone!

     So, I've been considering getting back to blogging recently because of some serious upcoming changes in my life, but have been putting it off because of all the work required in ACCOMPLISHING the aforementioned serious upcoming changes.  I will write a blog about the 'Serious Upcoming Changes" soon.  

However, today I discovered something kind of horrific.  FACEBOOK deleted the Notes feature and all my poetry and writing VANISHED!!  Thankfully, my amazing and intelligent and talented (and young and tech saavy) niece figured out a way to re-capture my notes, but it will be an issue of me bringing up the notes and hand typing them back onto another location--which for now will be here.  At some point, I will definitely buy one of those nifty thingies that keep things stored, but--for now--I'm doing it this way!   Anyway, so there will be LOTS Of new posts in the next week or so....I'm just transferring stuff.  Please forgive!

P.S. Nice to see y'all!