The Time I Lived Vicariously

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The Time I Lived Vicariously

While watching a gray and feathered flock

Brown pelicans sunning in November on the dock

And entered into community from my place

Of solitude

And thought of you

You duplicate my life

And make it two

One of here and one of there

Not duplicitous am I

But honest in my telling that you give me more

I hear your words echo from the Frio

And beyond

From the high places

You were called

I was not

God is good to give us lives

Multiplied in two’s and mores

The time I lived vicariously

Was one of those

You spoke to me while I was, yet

Not there, not haunted by the singleness of one

But tethered by the Spirit

To you

Canyons echo, multiply

Community, sacred echoes I have heard

Sacred echoes I have found

Joining Laura and Kelli

The Concrete Bench (Unseen, Behind The Lens)

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The Concrete Bench

You would have no way to know

For I am showing you only beauty

It is what I frame, in the imaginary crosshairs

Of my lens

Cropping out ugly, should it

Creep into my viewfinder

As I sit alone, in grateful solitude

On a bench I call my own

Made in my imagination

Just for me, grey, stone-cold, sturdy

To

Reflect

And be reflected

Dream and watch the dreams float by

Held

And undergirded, by the sea

The seen and unseen

Pass me by

While I count the joy and toss the pain

Into the sea, a salty grave

For tears

Childishness

Today is Day 17 Have I told you lately that I am grateful. For you. Thanks for reading along here. Your presence is a gift.

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Yesterday I chased butterflies around my yard. Two lead me on a wild goose chase through the grass that clings to summertime. Under a canopy of azure blue, I chased down a pair of clementine orange butterflies. Their unbridled energy and speed nearly had me winded as they zigzagged and zag zigged around my butterfly bushes. Diving in and out with the agility and speed of a pair of greyhounds with wings.

I wondered. Why aren’t you on your way to Mexico?

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And I wondered what one would think. Yes, the one’s driving by my house. Spying a grown woman with her camera phone, chasing butterflies. Or perhaps they wouldn’t see these smallish beauties and think I was chasing a dream. Or the wind. Or the sun’s rays on my lawn.

I struggled to keep up. Their play was so crazy. Ebullient. Frenzied. They were a pair of frenetic playmates. Calling me to enter in. And I, a willing chaser of whimsy. On the hunt for pure delight.

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I hung the moon and the stars. Under the lights. Framed a little spot of whimsy on my porch. Sometimes I think it would be better suited for a  child’s nursery than the porch of a 114 year old Victorian house. But I love it. And if you ride by my house I hope you smile.  And more than that I hope you crave play and laughter. Joy and whimsy.

Childishness.

Childlikeness and joy. Wonder and wondering. Freedom to stop and play alone in your own front yard.

May you find time to play. To laugh. To give chase after the smallest delights that hover on the fringes of your world.

And be refreshed by the simple beauty of it all.

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My beautiful friend, Laura Boggess from Laura Boggess dot com, has a wonderful new book. Playdates with God: Having a Childlike Faith In A Grown-up World, available on Amazon, is currently sold out! (This is an indicator of how fabulous Laura’s writing, voice and heart are.) Laura has people longing for God and falling in love with a spirit of playfullness.  Today’s post takes inspiration from Laura and her book. You will want to order a copy for yourself and your peeps.

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The Snow Globe

Welcome to Day 13. Thank you for joining me during October for #write31days.

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To catch up on the series click on the page link at the top of the home page. I am honored that you are here.

(Subscribe to receive postings in your email as they are published. Or check back whenever you like.)

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The Snow Globe

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Strange little egg shaped metaphor
Just as the dust settles,
No snow
Frozen tranquility is restored
To your glass sanctuary
Slowly
Fake flakes fall gently on the plastic turf
Your home’s floor
Photo-shopping beauty
We settle in to a Norman Rockwell-esq
Version of life
Frozen in time and place and space
How perfectly boring you become
With no movement
Living in your glass house
It is when the shaking comes
That the blanket of beauty is laid
The turning of you upside down
And right again
That complex mix of calm and peace and static is restored
Until
The next time
Your perfectly calm snow lined streets
Get wondrously shaken
Again and again
World without end
amen

There in lies the wonder
The beauty
of it all
Globes were meant to turn
Round
And you, little snow globe
A little upside down

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Joining Laura today

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