Archive for Random Thoughts

A Promise Comes

For some reason this poem came to mind this morning. I wrote it in 2006 but it seems appropriate I should share it again today, the day after Labor Day.

I was taught at a very young age: Never give up. Never quit.

~~~~~~~~~

A Promise Comes

 

The sunburnt harvest moon slowly rises

on the porch

Picture courtesy of Google Images

In the east on this late day in fall

A gentle breeze moves the porch swing

In the distance a whippoorwill calls

 

The neighbor’s dog down the way barks

While lightning bugs blink in the yard

Serenity wraps ‘round us like a shawl

‘tis forgotten that life is so hard

 

From the children’s room, soft giggles

As they play with their simple toys

Their lives are filled with struggles

And yet, they hang on to their joy

 

In evening dim we dream of olden times

The way it used to be

To go and come and just walk about

In a place called land of the free

 

We rise each day and do our work

As to the Lord, and not as to man

Doing as we are told to do

Singing hymns, we work the land

 

We know not if our wait be long

But know alone, we won’t carry this load

And soon we’ll rejoice and praise our Lord

A promise comes down the dusty road

 

Copyright © 2006 C. Mashburn

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Don’t Go There

the veil(2)It’s happened several times in the past, but it seems to be happening more frequently as I get on in years. I’ll be sound asleep in the early morning hours when a voice—clear and audible—awakens me with but one word; my name. “Charlie?” Yes, it comes in the form of a question; an almost searching but perhaps curious lilt to it. Sometimes I feel as though the voice is asking for my help, other times it seems to be reaching out to help me; as in, What are you doing, Charlie? Don’t go there.

I’m never quite sure who the voice belongs to, but after I’m fully awake for a few moments I discern the voice to be my mom’s. Always though, I’m never certain.

Afterward, I feel no fear or dread, but it does make me wonder. First, I wonder if there’s something wrong with mom—she lives 400 miles away—and then, sometimes, I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. This morning, for the first time since this began happening, I wondered if this happens when I come to close to “the veil”, as in dying.

I know, it’s a morbid thought, and maybe nonsensical too, but it came to me this morning, so I’m writing it down. What if—for reasons unexplainable—I approach death in my sleep and God uses Mom’s voice to call me back from the edge because, quite simply, it’s not my time to go.

I wonder.

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The Same Thing Only Different

Bubbles and Lies

Bubbles are much like lies 

They usually come in bunches

One leading to another

Obscuring the truth of who we are

 

But they soon drift away

Leaving the others to burst in time

And always sooner than we expect

We are exposed to the world

 

Some are big, some are small

Some reflect the light in beautiful ways

Fooling those who witness them

But only for a short while

 

Bubbles and lies cannot survive

Unless time can be stopped

Or the expelling of them does not

Or… they become our truth

 

What will we do

When the bubbles are all gone

When the world sees us clearly

As we stand naked and ashamed

 

Will we hang our heads

Or quickly dip into the jar

Wave our arms and like magic

Remain a figment of our delusion

bubble

 

Copyright © C. Mashburn 2011

Photo courtesy of Google Images

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The Fact is…

We don’t have to look any further than Facebook to find someone passing judgement on someone else. I know; I’m as guilty as anyone, but I’m working on it. The thing I always wonder: Do we know all the facts? Most of the time, the answer to that question is, “No, we don’t.” We look at what we hear, and/or read, and without giving another thought to the accuracy of the report, we outwardly and often vehemently condemn people. A couple of sayings come to mind: Judge not, lest you be judged. If you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything.

A person will reap what they sow, and most times, we/they don’t need any help with the plowing. The thing is, we do need help with the growing. We are all a result of the how we are treated by others, and we grow best when we are loved and nurtured, even though at times it seems we’re not worth the fertilizer. Let’s give each other some room to grow.

Patience quote

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Family Reunion

boy and watermelonWe’re in north central Alabama this morning to attend a Henderson family reunion. My paternal grandmother was a Henderson, and I vaguely remember attending the reunion when I was six or seven years old. The main reason I remember it is we stopped somewhere on our way from Texas and bought a huge watermelon. Dad said it weighed fifty pounds, but he was always pulling my leg, so… who knows? He put it on the floor right in front of me—I loved watermelon—and I rode the rest of the way with my feet on the gigantic melon and a grin just as big on my skinny little face.

I wonder if folks will remember me if I walk in carrying a fifty pound watermelon? Well… the fact is, I’m not a skinny little boy anymore, and they might think I have a fifty pound watermelon under my shirt!

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Little Brothers and Others

brothers quote

That’s why I like the Internet. It has brought many of us closer, and though things still aren’t the same as they were back in the good ol’ days, it beats the way it was before the Internet came along.

It’s also true with friends—some I’ve yet to meet in person. The Internet has caused my family to not only grow closer, but to grow larger, and I like it!

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Pure Freedom

Are we free? Do we even know what freedom is? It seems to be a fleeting thing; disappearing as we punch the clock, or slide into our seat for first period, on Monday morning. So many times, we feel trapped by our circumstances, and too often we ask ourselves, “Am I really free?” Freedom is a state of mind, and there are times we soar like eagles lifted by the winds of happiness, and then there are times we come crashing to earth in the throes of a life that is sometimes cruel. Freedom… sometimes we just have to race full-tilt toward it, jerk back on the handlebars and let it lift us into the air. Being able to do that, my friends… is pure freedom.

kid on bike 2Freedom is a memory; a memory we can carry with us and relive when life seems hard or unfair. Freedom is a feeling like the feeling I had on that glorious Saturday morning—the first day of summer vacation:

Yes! In those precious moments I was free! Free from the rigors and trials of fifth grade, the screaming and crying at home, and from the very earth. In those few seconds, I felt a freedom that was complete and real, and I wished I could just keep on climbing into the sky and disappear forever.

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