Skip to main content

Life is Rosy

https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=13CHFMid89rNdrIw1RBW4MxownQoZxCiH
Life, as they say, is a beautiful thing. 


That beauty is a rush of rose blooms over water drenched land. 


Those red buds burst with joy o’er thorns that make the stems strengthen with green leafy grit. 


Those thorny prickles progress you towards the beautiful sun, illuminating the silky petals with ironed grace.


Life is a black and white dog named Tucker, who has peed on your rug four times, but still sleeps next to you with a love unbound and so sound. 


Life is aggravating phone calls with customer service, but the person on the other end of the line is a supportive soul clearing the burdensome brush off the road. 


Life is cracked windows that need to be fixed, but behind that window is a sheen of perfect peace and a glisten of gratefulness. 


Life is tiresome droughts, but sprinkles of rain  nourish faded crimson cheer, giving you a drink of revitalization. 


Life will always provoke with pops of thorns, but God will always shine the sun on your rose garden. 


He will enhance your rosettes with joy and subside the fine-pricked thorns. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Memory Day" Memories

“Memory Day” Memories   August 11 th , 2008 will always be etched in my mind.   Why? Do you ask?   That was the day the leading man in my life went home, my dad, Bob J. O’Banion.   He was my encourager, support system, teacher, boulder, and most importantly, a godly leader.   When you needed a hand, both of his calloused hands were there to hug, shake, and give you a pat on the back.   When you needed Christian advice, his wisdom traveled from his can line to yours.   With the can pressed against your ear, you’d hear, “God is the way, the truth, and the light.”   He was a true definition of a man, a sovereign man.   Integrity made him a humble guide through the Blueridge Mountains, the dry desert, and beyond.   Love lined his face with deep canyon wrinkles.   He sought and dug ditches to provide.   The rooftop was his “day home”.   Sun-tanned skin branded him a “sweat by the brow” toiler.   Family sto...
2 comments
Read more

Seasonal Change

The loss of my dad still hurts, especially when seasons change.  . For those who have lost a loved one, the aching still seems to pulsate through the cracks left upon our hearts.  . Seasonal change can breeze in bronzes of bereavement. It can fall with ambers of aches and molasses colored missing.  . For me, this is true about Autumn. The leaves change once again, and my dad’s memory wafts o’er red-roofed wishing wells. The shallow water collects pennies of “wish you were here” under Birch trees.  . Seasons and holidays blow in memories that patina the past.  . Those who have lost a parent, we think upon childhood memoirs. Instances where we held our mom or dad’s hands, while strolling under amber stained glass etched with maple leaves.  . I think upon harvest memories where the jack-o-lanterns flow, and the crockpot chili steams in bowls.  . My dad walks behind my brother and I as we prance towards candy. In seasonal memory “trick-or-treats” bounce of...
2 comments
Read more

Eradication of Women

Eradication of the Woman . The biological woman is being eradicated second by second with secularistic folly. .  The woman is being black-washed with worldly paint that is stained with sinful strips of stupidity.  . The life of a woman is being subdued by subterranean slyness. In the tunnels of dark thoughts, biology is being hidden in the crevices of craftiness. God’s nature and order are being covered by demonic dirt.  . - Nature: God has given us fierce feminine genes that only the true woman can bare. A man cannot possess these genes with a fickle change of temporary thought.  - Order: Womanly empowerment does not embody a man. As the character, Eowyn, boldly hailed as she slayed evil in Tolkien’s, Lord of the Rings, “I am no man!” . No ladies, we are women…women of God! We are poised with difference and uniquely special. We are biologically beautiful, and men cannot “think” themselves into our territory of traits.  . In today’s lifeless and uncharted societ...
Post a Comment
Read more