It Works (Pt 1)

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I know it is hard for some people to believe that God really listens to prayer. I mean if you think about it how does it happen that God can hear each and every prayer said, thought, breathed by every praying person every second of every day? Reminds me of that scene from Bruce Almighty when the main character hears all the prayers instantly, all at once. Is that what God hears? 

That part will remain a mystery for us.

All of the logistics aside, prayer works. I am living proof. I have people, love, and other things in my life that are all answers to prayer. I can sit here for hours and tell you all the things, it would take a long time. Each one just as miraculous as the other. Each one an answer to a precise prayer I uttered from my mouth to God and some unspoken ones in times of sadness when I did not have the words. You will say, sure sure. Maybe you believe me. Maybe you do not.

Until you experience a true answered prayer for yourself you will either believe me or think I am crazy. Either one is ok with me. I will still pray for you.

Love by the Numbers

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I have been in more relationships and marriages than the average person, so I thought. I recently read a couple of studies that say statistically the average person falls in love 3 or 4 times in a life time. Theses magical studies also say that you will have 7 to 10 serious relationships, with men having ten in their lifetime, compared to an average of seven for women. The average number of marriages is 3 to 4 for Americans. Thinking back through my life I have only been in love, true love, twice. I have had many more serious, or what I thought at the time were serious relationships. Marriages? Don’t get me started!

I am not so out of the ordinary after all.

What the studies do not explain is why will the average person have so many relationships,why will they fail and why we settle for less that perfect in some relationships. I can’t speak for the masses but I can tell you that there are several reasons why I had so many relationships, why they did not work out and why I stayed in the dying ones. Since I am about average according to the studies I bet my reasons are about the same as yours. The topic of why relationships fail is a big one and space here will not allow for a complete exploration, so we won’t go there.

I  do believe that God sends love to your life. You choose if you accept that person or not. Choice means that you choose to stay with him or her, to fight for love even though they are not perfect. One promise to them that you will be their forever person no matter what life throws at you. Never taking them for granted even on the days when you are the only one in the fight for love. Love is not a 50/50 thing. It is a 100% by both people in the relationship. Like any good fighter you also have to know when it is time to throw in the towel. That is a difficult choice, still a choice. Love is your choice to make.

Let me reassure you, dear reader, that you are not alone. No matter how devastated you are at the death of a relationship, all of us have been there at least once in a life time if the studies are to be believed. To me what is worse than the out right end of a relationship is the staying in a dead one.

I stayed in  dying relationships for several reasons, the number 1 reason was fear. I was afraid to be alone. I had been told and believed that no one else would want me. No one would ever love me again. What is worse I had more than one ex tell me such lies and I believed it more than once. I was so wrong.

No matter how broken by love and number of relationships you are now, you can be fixed. You will love again. You will never be so broken that some one will not want to love you.  Forget what the numbers say. Forget the lies the sorry relationship killers tell you. Be brave and take the leap off in to the abyss that is love. Do not fear the future. Love is all that matters in this life. We are not meant to be unloved and alone. We are meant for great love. That love will look different for each one of us.

The common denominator is the same. It only takes 1 person to show you 1 time that love is worth all the sacrifice. 1 person to care enough to love you in all your crazy weirdness. 1 person + 1 love + you = happiness

 

The Art of Story Telling

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Story telling is not just limited to books and movies. Stories infiltrate our life is thousands of ways. Often we are either the story teller or the story receiver and we do not realize that we are engaged in the act of storytelling.  Kids are expert story tellers when the play pretend games. Grandparents tell stories when they share family history. Gamers tell stories as they play. Even a simple television commercial can be a story in thirty seconds.

We don’t think of ourselves as story tellers, but guess what we are. Have you ever gone to work on a Monday and a coworker asks, “How was your weekend?” Then you tell them about the shopping trip with all the sales you lucked up on or ball game you went too. You are telling a story.

Not all stories are good ones and not all stories are worth telling. This is true. The skill of storytelling is like anything else. Some of us are good and it, some of us are not and some of us can tell average stories. It is the interesting, heart felt, tragic and scary stories that we tend to remember the most. The key is engaging the story receiver’s emotion. It is the listener, viewer, reader who determines if the story is good or not. The story teller may think the story is good and be completely wrong.

As a writer the exchange of story from the teller to the story receiver fascinates me. I want to know what makes the receiver remember the story, why was the story worth the time of telling and why would you want to repeat the story? It is the psychology of the story that is the game changer for me.

I challenge you to be aware of the stories in your life. Notice when you are on the telling end and the receiving end of a good story. What makes you remember a story? What makes you repeat a story? Most importantly what makes you really like story or fall in love with a story?

If you are interested in sharing your story experiences drop me an email at compulsive_writer@outlook.com or a comment here. I will respond to every one of you.

 

 

 

I’m Thinking about Ending Things by Iain Ried

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There are three types of people in the world. Those who have read the book and love it, those who have read this book and hate it or those who have not yet read this book.

I loved it. When you read it you are certain that you have fallen in to an episode of the twilight zone. Nothing is as it appears. The story revolves around a girl on a day trip with her boyfriend to meet his parents. She is thinking about ending things. It is the things that you have no idea what she means. Is she breaking up with him? Is she considering suicide? It is a mystery. Even at the end of the book it may still be a mystery if you don’t pick up on all the subtle hints. I actually read this book through twice be fore I had the ah ha moment and figured out most of the plot. Though very intense, it is an easy read. I read it through the two times over one weekend.

A word of caution! Danger Will Robinson!

There are web sites that discuss the book and the theories around it. Please read the book first before you read any of the theories. It will be a better ride to just go in to the book blind. Please do not cheat yourself of the experience of this roller coaster adventure of this book. Reading fan sites before reading a book is right up there with my aversion of seeing a movie before reading the book.

DON’T DO IT!

I am afraid that if I keep talking I will spoil this for you so I will just leave you with this thought.  This book is deeply haunting and irresistibly unnerving. It will stay with you long after the last page is turned and you put the book down.

 

 

 

She Builds the Wall

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Here is a bit of fiction…or is it?

She Builds the Wall

I found her standing in front of a wall. The wall was made of bricks the same color red as the bricks that build the american dream home but about half the size and perfect cube in shape. She was mixing a bucket of concrete and slathering it on the bricks. Then she placed them ever so deliberately on the wall where it looks like a strong force crashed in the bricks flinging them all over the ground. I walked up behind her and she does not turn around. She continues to work one brick at the time.

I look to my left and see the wall goes on past my line of sight. I look to my right and see the same. On it goes. I look up and it disappears in to the fog. “What are you doing?” I ask her. She sighs, “What does it look like? I am repairing the break.” Her voice is soft and not unlike my own.

It is a slow process since she is very particular in how she chooses the bricks. She lovingly picks them up and dusts off each side. She then sizes it up for the next location on the wall carefully placing it on the vacant spot. Once she is satisfied it is the correct block, she then coats it and places it on the wall. She continues to pick up bricks, coat them with mud and place them on the wall.

“What broke your wall?” I asked

Again she sighed, “It was my fault. I let my guard down and when I wasn’t paying attention someone got in, wreaked havoc and I forced them back on the other side. Now I am fixing it so they can’t come back on my side.”

She never broke her stride as she explained the break and what happened. She continued to work. Carefully picking up bricks, tenderly stroking them and placing them on the wall.

“When it is fixed, what will you do then?” I asked

Again she sighed, “I will wait for the one who is worthy of coming to my side. I think that they are never coming though. I will just watch and maintain the wall.”

With that she turned and looked at me. She smiled with my smile. Printed on her shirt was the word “Resilient”

She said, “Your shirt says ‘courage’, will you stay with me?”

I sighed, picked up a brick and dusted it off. I measured the place where it would go, slopped on the concrete and placed the brick on the wall.

Write in the Dark

I have been struggling with the dark. I can’t seem to get this cloud of darkness that is lurking around following me to dissipate. It is depressing and contagious. I caught it from someone else. It has fear and worry at its core. It is sucking the life out of people I love and is spreading like a plague. It has taken my will to write and I have to force myself to sit down. Sit and write. It has taken my want to do anything other than feel sorry for myself. It is a curse and I want it gone.

Then it occurred to me that I could write from within the darkness. That light is more brilliant against the shadow of dark things. I am writing from that place and I am beginning to see a speck of light. It is far off now, out in the distance but it is there. It is warm and welcoming. It will come closer and it will absorb the darkness. I will pray and write it so.

Love and peace are in the light. Love and peace will overcome the darkness. I will call the light into this place. I will invite it to envelop me to drive out the depression, sadness, hate, despair and shadow. Maybe, just maybe that light will spread from me to someone else, the someone who needs it most, the someone who gives of darkness.

I will write…write in the dark.

 

Missing Pieces

I asked God why does he allow people we love to die? Why does he take them when to us it looks like they still had much life to live and much to do?  It’s hard grieving for someone that you know is not calling or coming back no matter how much you pray, beg, plead with God. We go through the motions of life missing their smile, their touch and their presence. We say that it gets easier with time. Well I do not know what idiot said that fist, but I can tell you it does not get any easier.

I did not get an answer to the why other than I know that God does not take someone until it is their time. When they have completed all they were meant to do. It may seem to us that they were not finished, but maybe God let’s their death be the catalyst for some other great work he wants completed.

Then I asked God to fill this hole in my being. This place where the missing pieces go that that person took when they went to heaven. I wailed and screamed at God that I can not spend the next fifty years missing what should be there. Am I mad at God? You bet I am, but what good does that do?

Finally in the silence my answer came. In the still small voice of God speaking directly to my soul, “I will fill you, I will fill all the deep dark holes in your heart with my love if you would just stop fighting.”

So, I gave up and gave it all to God.