The Battle Begins

Monday—the very first one of 2015. I’m not into resolutions. The sound of breaking glass comes to mind, an entire hutch of china overturned. A Hollywood vision includes me running through a burning woods with my arms overhead to protect from hot falling promises.

Now GOALS, that’s another subject. Those are expectations we are reaching for, like the next rung of the monkey bars. This morning as I returned to last year’s goal to exercise regularly, I ran into a writer friend on the walking track. We spent thirty minutes catching up, encouraging each other in our careers.

Once home, over coffee, I set a schedule, blocked time to write more consistently, submit weekly, and blog regularly. It looks great. Very neat and orderly on lined paper.

But my Christmas present lies open next to the DVD. I hear the evil footman calling me. “Come gorge on season three in the boxed set of Downton Abbey." Ooh, and look at that stack of novels I received. They’re piled a foot deep on the table next to my rocker.

Those damn monkey bars. Even as a child, I could never get beyond the third rung. Where’s Gollum when you need him with that disappearing ring act.

The battle begins. Bring on the fire.

2015 Promises to be a Great Year

It’s 2015, and I have set some lofty writing and publishing goals. After much research and prep, I’m getting a website up this month. My plan includes improving my electronic skills. I have a devotional pending for the Upper Room www.upperroom.org and a series of articles about The Open Door Prison and Re-Entry Ministry to be published in The Voice of SWLA www.thevoiceofsouthwestla.com. Yes, 2015 promises to be a great year.., and yet, I feel guilty. So many blessings, I don’t feel worthy.

Psalm 23, verse five comes to my mind. “You set a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” 

I envision a large round table covered with a white tablecloth. A delicate silver cup with a handle sits in the middle, engraved with my initials. I’m trying to see the faces of the people sitting across from me, but I don’t see any enemies. Over the years, I’ve tried to forgive those who have hurt me. Sometimes I have had to take the pain and lay it down SEVERAL times. The chairs appear empty.

Wait! There’s a shadow, a puff of smoke rising. The chairs aren’t unoccupied. They’re filled with apparitions and mirrors. My smarmy “selves” are seated all around. Those annoying characteristics, like perfection, sarcasm, self-centeredness, criticism, and negativism have all come to the Table. He offers me the Host. I swallow the bread and wash it down with the juice. "God forgive me my trespasses." But I don’t.

   

“You anoint my head with oil.”

The shepherd of Bible times oiled the sheep’s head to keep gnats with unseen disease away from their eyes.

Have you ever seen a child bend down to pick up a toy and miss the edge of the table by a fraction of an inch? What undetected calamity am I protected from every day—covered by the healing oil of grace. The human cells divide, sluff, repair, produce antibodies, unseen mysteries of which science only dreams. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

“My cup runs over.”

He pours into my little silver cup blessings beyond full. Overflowing and beyond my imagination.

Yes, 2015 promises to be a great year. Now you guys at the table scram, I’ve got work to do. 

Who Can Resist

We’re expecting! The whole family—we’re so excited—expecting, again.

Gas or no, who can resist an infant’s smile? And coo…, they’re so vulnerable and sweet. Their skin smells so…, like a baby.

I know, I know, the nightly news is bad. The newspapers run red with murder and war. Sometimes you hate the idea of bringing a kid into a world that’s crazy.

But we’re expecting! Right now—soon.

What? Angels sing?

“Glory to the newborn King. Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled!”

Yes. Who can resist?

Father Christmas Smiles Gray

Another Poem. Season's Greetings!

This is the view from my window. What's yours—physically or emotionally?

Father Christmas Smiles Gray

The river, she is busy today.

Roiled and irritated

runs ahead of the storm,

a grab for the Gulf and warmer climes.

Dry leaves chatter, "Foul,"

to the southern blow.

"Make up your mind, it's December,

we've given all."

The neighbor's awkward palms

planted out of place, 

wave their fronds

like silly schoolgirls—cry, "Bully."

Swaying on the banks,

naked cypress wag

lacy Spanish moss north or south

harlots to any passing gusts.

Red vinca hold fast their bed;

snap like a matador's cape,

"Bring it ON,"

they taunt the North wind.

Now tears of rain splash dance

cold across the surface.

Father Christmas Smiles Gray

in Southwest Louisiana.

Winter Thanks

In winter I lean toward melancholy. I tend to leech happiness from nature's color.  

Today I wrote a poem and wanted to share. 

Winter Thanks

The gold and copper jewels

lay scattered brown across the lawn.    
A week ago their glitter

shimmered in the breezes.

Bare branches beseech the sky,

or is it praise?

Upstretched thanks for the rest.

Sap’s down with a winter nap.

Morning Murmurations

Driving home from an early morning workout at the local gym, I saw it. A huge flock of birds dancing and dipping in the sky. A black ribbon of feathers, dancing to the beat of some music I wasn't hearing. 

Last fall was the first time I had spotted this phenomena called murmuration. The dictionary attributes this to a flock of starlings. I had originally thought these birds were migrating, but I don't believe starlings are migratory, so maybe they're just showing off for the ones flying South. God has a sense of humor.

Check out the video from England. Many more birds than I saw. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DmO4Ellgmd0

Justice For All

I sit on the Board for The Open Door Prison and Re-Entry Ministry, a non-profit, faith-based organization. The Open Door’s purpose is to help incarcerated women find hope through classes and mentoring. Upon release from jail, we continue the bond of trust and offer guidance through the difficult period of transition into the community. I volunteer, going into the local jail weekly to help with the Literacy program.

Yesterday, I visited our offices and had an opportunity to reconnect with a client from Literacy who was recently released. Her family had finally scraped together her bond. She had been jailed and held for the past six months without formal charges and without legal counsel. Just prior to release, she was given a court appointed attorney who was a civil lawyer, unversed in criminal law. Unfortunately, this isn’t a unique situation. Louisiana’s legal and penal systems are broken.

I’d like to state: not everyone in jail is guilty no matter what the news reports. If you don’t have the cash to hire a lawyer, it’s a maze of injustice. The system is set up for the poor to fail and be jailed on technicalities.

Failure to appear - but the court date was changed and you weren't contacted.

No excuse, show up to court or you’re in violation.

A bench warrant is issued for your arrest.

Can’t afford $75 per month Probation costs because you can’t get a job.

No excuse, write a warrant.

No wonder Louisiana has the HIGHEST rate of incarceration in the world.

If you're fortunate enough to have money – It’s a good-ol’-boy system with plenty of hoops that only a speaker of legalese can maneuver. There’s no such thing as innocent until proven guilty.

I’ve mentored women who sat on the inside for months even years, worrying about their parent’s health or children’s welfare with no solid legal information coming from their appointed attorneys until just days before trial. The court system is out of step with the twenty-first century and unwilling or able to spend revenue to update and link computer systems. The misspelling of a name can leave someone in jail until a family member straightens out the error.

Public defenders are assigned hundreds of cases each. They end up working with the D.A. in order to push cases through the courts. To save political face the system offers the jail-weary a plea bargain for time served. Men and women reach for the straw that’s offered desperate to get out, leaving the guilty as well as the innocent a record that haunts them, a ghost on every job and apartment application.

Society has turned a blind eye. Few will hire someone with a record. Gripped by media driven fear, we pass mileage for more deputies, more equipment, and more jail space, when we need justice with grace. Precious dollars spent on education and public programs to enrich life would offer encouragement, rather than a slap at every right turn. We need change. I don’t know the answers, but I know God is just.

What’s your experience?