Darkness and LIght

Posted by Priscilla on September 21, 2013

embers.pngMy friend and her husband live every day with the pain and anxiety of caring for a child with cystic fibrosis.  Once they worked through their anger and resentment, abandonment and fear at the curve ball thrown to them, they began to learn to live in the day. They even began to accept the goodness of the design that gave their son a terminal disease.

Recently, while on a rare and carefully planned-for camping trip with their two preschoolers, the parents found themselves alone sitting around a dying fire late at night. The night was dark, velvety and thick around them as the fire gave up the last of its light. Soon, only bright pinpricks of orange were visible in the darkness.

Gina took out her camera and took a flash picture.

Did she capture the beauty of the dying embers? Not at all. The flash showed the stone ring, the grey ash, the stick her husband had used to stir the coals, but nothing else. No beauty. No light. No life.

“Sometimes,” her husband said to comfort her,” you need the darkness to see the light.”


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Block (bläk) n

Posted by Priscilla on September 19, 2013

Block (bläk) n.  (1) a barrier (2) an obstacle to the normal progress or functioning of something


Is it possible that my brain has dried up? More probable: there are way too many things to think about, too many circumstances to react to. My mind has begun to fibrillate.

I want to react to mass shootings in D.C.  (Why, oh why do we insist on having guns as our toys?)

I want to react to possible military strikes in Syria (Please, not another war).

I want to react to the accident yesterday when I started through an intersection and hit the car that ran a red light (Okay. Okay then. These things happen) and to the fact that the other woman’s police report said that I ran the red light (Really? You lied?)

I want to react to leaks in the house and college bills in the mail (Maybe if I ignore them they’ll go away?)

There’s more, of course.  The troubles that visit others don’t bypass us. Turmoil without and turmoil within lead inexorably to brain fibrillation.

Some people call it exhaustion; others call it depression. Writers call it  “block.” 


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Read to Save a Life

Posted by Priscilla on September 10, 2013

DSC_0388.jpgYet again.

Yesterday, a three-year-old girl died in Philadelphia because her parents had starved her. She weighed eleven pounds.

I’m going way out on the proverbial limb here, but I believe two things: 1) Her parents did not read to her 2) If they had read to her, she would be alive today.

Proof? I have none.

I have, instead, a rock solid appreciation for the power of WORD in our lives. The scriptures say that the entire universe was created by “the word of his power.” Just think what the word could have done for a tiny, powerless girl.


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You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown

Posted by Priscilla on September 4, 2013

150_button_0290.jpgIn my wild pursuit of collecting as many rejections for my manuscript as Kathryn Stockton garnered for The Help (50? 60?), I have racked up thirty-four. The latest came via email yesterday.  Every time a rejection notice lands through the mail slot, whether virtual or real, I get the privilege of thinking about rejection.

Have you ever met a man or woman, boy or girl, who had not been rejected in some way?  I didn’t think so. Even if by chance there is someone out there who says, “Why no. I’ve succeeded at everything I’ve put my hand to,” I would venture to say that he (she?) is petrified, at least, of the possibility of being rejected. To be rejected is, after all, human.

The best mirror I know to real life is the funnies page in the daily newspaper. 

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