Shorties: 67

George, a boy she liked in high school, had returned home from Afghanistan.  Amanda was thrilled to finally have a moment alone, as alone as you can be in a room full of people, with him.  It had been three years since she last saw George.  How her heart jumped seeing him again.  Small talk was finished and awkwardness arrived.  Amanda’s eyes darted from side to side and she saw the antics of some party revelers while she steeled herself to finally ask the question.  

Impulsively, she blurted, “What’s it like?  Combat, I mean.”

Startled, George looked at Amanda.  He always thought her pretty and sweet but never felt for a moment he had a chance at dating her in high school.  Now, this question struck him like the bullets and shrapnel that missed during his tour of duty.  Simply hearing the word plunged George into the sights and smells seared to memory.  

It was nearly 48 hours ago he was in a firefight. The juxtaposition of being plucked from combat to home, without a moment to process anything, stirred great turmoil in his psyche.  Nevertheless, Amanda’s inquiry carried the popping sounds of automatic weapons to his ears.  It was the sights and smells that tormented him the most.  Like felines toying with a mouse, they took turns in their attacks. Sometimes they alternated but at others, they both pounced.  

The first body he saw was ripped apart and the horrific odor of decaying flesh and exposed bowels overwhelmed George.  The scene haunted him anew.  All those sleepless nights when his mind was powerless to stop as it all repeated again and again and again.  Inwardly, he flinched in defense of the violent outbreak in his mind.  

George’s breathing deepened but he said nothing.  Amanda saw the conflict in his face and realized her terrible error.  How she wanted to retrieve the words and reverse history.  Finally, she stammered, “George, I’m so sorry.”  

For the first time, George looked her in the eye. Amanda recognized tremendous anguish deep in the soul of his eyes.  It was like a child calling out to be rescued from a miry pit.  How he wished to escape the beasts clawing at him but he was trapped. George broke the gaze, shifted his feet, and looked at the floor.  He knew she would never understand.  There is no explanation for combat.  Calling it hell only scratches the surface.  Finally, and without a word, George turned and walked out.  He didn’t know where to go.  Even home was no longer sanctuary.  His whole world had changed.  

Amanda rigidly stood in place fully knowing the terrible thing she did.  She only prayed she would have a chance to atone for her sin.  

Shorties: 66

A terrible dread enfolded Zeke like a suffocating cloak of decay.  He felt the icy tendrils consuming deeper and deeper into his soul.  Though his spirit defiantly stood against the obvious, the onslaught had begun.  He would bow to the inevitable.  After hearing a vertebra in her neck collapsed, Zeke knew his wife would soon die. 

Though sometimes stormy, Zeke loved his Adrian.  He knew he wanted no other.  Now his mind swirled.  No clear thought would still itself long enough for Zeke to notice.  It was all a jumbled mass of discordant bedlam.  One thing only was clear.  He could only see the frail lady next to him. 

Still holding her hand, Zeke heard Adrian ask, “What next?”

The doctor was speaking.  Zeke watched his lips move and heard garbled speech that must have been cohesive since Adrian responded with another question.  Zeke understood nothing.  The acidic ice continued excavating his heart.  He looked at Adrian again.  The neck brace bulged against her tiny frame.  After two years in a bitter contest with cancer, Adrian bore the scars.  Her skin pale and thin, she was weary. 

For the first time the end to his marriage was in sight.  “Till death do us part” was about to arrive.  Like oxygen fleeing his lungs, Zeke felt muscles, hearing, and vision weaken.  An ever darkening cloud faded his vision.  How does one take ownership of emotions too painful to recognize?  How do you stand still on the tracks when you see the freight train about to obliterate you?  Then Zeke realized he wasn’t standing.  He was kneeling, pleading. 

He believed in God.  He wanted to believe healing was possible for Adrian.  Even now as her brittle bones were breaking one by one, Zeke wanted to believe this wasn’t too much for an omnipotent God.  If Jesus brought the dead back to life, Adrian wasn’t too far gone, was she?

The only thing that made sense was to love Adrian.  To fill their remaining hours with nothing but love, to let her know she was the best thing in his life.  Let the cold winds blow.  She would be his focus. 

Shorties: 65

A great hope filled Jim’s soul.  For the whole of his life, Jim wanted to be someone. He wanted to do works of great importance.  How he yearned to make an impact in the world.  Nevertheless, from the pit of his being, he always believed himself a failure and would never be enough.  

Though he wouldn’t yet recognize this fact, Jim shrouded his heart in obscurity to avoid the pain of each disappointment, however real or perceived they might be.  Yet, on this day, following a chance meeting, Jim allowed the sight of an eternal vision to catch the hope of truth:  he would one day fulfill the possibilities that were planted by an eternal, benevolent Creator.  

The stranger, who ordered his meal at the fast food restaurant Jim frequented, eyed Jim with great intention after leaving the counter with his meal.  Jim identified a mixture of surprise and recognition in the stranger’s face.  The wheels of memory churned while placing his standard order.  Who was that guy?  Do I know him?  

What the stranger later declared continued to rock the foundations of Jim’s understanding.  The seeds of hope buried deep in his heart were dead but now seemed to quicken.  Again, Jim looked at the letters and numbers scrawled onto the back of the stranger’s lunch receipt.  Again, Jim read the words of Jeremiah 29:11.  “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Hope!  Hope, that beacon of light in a dark and weary land.  The stranger’s voice echoed and Jim read again.  Like lyrics of honey poured out to heal his barren soul, Jim soaked up each and every drop.  A tinge of embarrassment worked to squeeze in between the light and darkness and reaffirm dominance.  Jim shook his head.  No, not this time.

Jim saw it all again.  Mortification permeated after the stranger approached and began speaking.  Burnt into the synapses, Jim recalled his demeanor and tone.  They spoke acceptance.  They called to him as one seeking a lost child, desiring to hold it to his chest in an eternal embrace.  He spoke, “Hey, um, I don’t know you but I feel I have to tell you something.”  

From the corner of his eye, Jim noted the person seated next to him turn his attention to the stranger.  Jim felt his cheeks flush.  The stranger’s reddened as well.  Finally, after shifting in his seat, Jim pursed his lips and replied, “Ok.”  After a lifetime of rejection, mostly from himself, Jim steadied himself for an onslaught of words his mind repeated all too often. “You are stupid.  You are not worth anything.  You are an idiot.”  

“After I took my order and saw you, I clearly felt I had to tell you something.  I believe in God and I believe He wants you to know this.  I wrote down the chapter and verse so you can look at it later.”  He handed Jim the receipt.  

With tears flowing, Jim read again the promise from God hearing the stranger’s voice.  How he wished he’d asked for his name but at the moment Jim was awash with hope and embarrassment.  Tears were brimming his eyes and about to spill down his cheeks.  He just had to leave before someone mocked the weakness he displayed.  

Now, in the quiet of his room, Jim let grace rain upon him.  He hadn’t darkened the door of a church in more than a decade.  Yet, it was apparent God was calling.  Though unworthy, Jim wanted to let the hope he felt lead him to the next step.

London Trip

My wife, daughter, and parents traveled to London.  For all but my wife, it was our first time there.  While there is much to see and do, for the moment I will share a few of the different moments. 

My plan was to fly to Detroit and go with my parents from there to London.  My wife and daughter had work and school and couldn’t leave early enough to take the same flight with us and would travel on a nonstop.  I awoke very early since my parents needed to take a very early flight from South Bend to Detroit.  In all, we would be in Detroit about 9 hours.

Why would we stay there so long?  Since I work for an airline, when I use my travel privileges we fly when there are open seats.  In this case, I preferred to be in Detroit early since the flights were open. 

I arrived at the airport parking lot very early.  Due to the government shutdown, people who work security at the airport weren’t being paid and some were not showing up to work.  Consequently, security queues were reported as being quite long.  In my case, the lines were short and I had a lot of time to get to my departure gate.  When I walked up to the gate about 30 minutes prior to departure, I saw a different destination on the sign.  I was horrified to learn the gate changed from D31 to A3.  For those who know the Atlanta Airport, you know that meant I had to travel about a mile to get to the new gate.

I started walking quickly to my new gate.  When I reached the train that moved between concourses, I was aghast to see it wasn’t operating.  That meant I had to go the rest of the way on foot.  At that point I wish I had checked my suitcase.  It would have been much easier to run with just my backpack. 

While traversing the airport, I pictured not getting to Detroit to meet my parents.  Then I imagined not getting to London at all.  I began to despair how the tide had turned.  I went from having an abundance of time to MAYBE getting to the gate in time.  I imagined arriving at the gate, covered in sweat and panting heavily, only to see the plane backing away from the gate.  Perhaps worse, having the gate agents tell me I was too late. 

Ultimately, I happily boarded the flight and took my seat.  Then the sweat started pouring out.  I recalled people I’d seen before in such circumstances.  I pledged to wish speed to each of them in the future.  Also, I hope for compassionate gate agents if they are late. 

The saddest part of this whole episode is the coffee I bought prior to going to the gate.  I had taken only a few sips but knew I couldn’t run with it in my hand.  Sadly, it went in the first trash can I saw. 

While I enjoyed the sights and history of London, and the family we visited, the highlight of the trip was looking at the itinerary of my family traveling to Rome the day we returned home.  While they were starting to log into the website to check in for their flight, I looked over the trip.  Flying on Vueling, I saw three names booked.  They were as follows:

          Doe/Jane

          Gentleman, White

          Doe/Jessica

You need to know these family members are from Colombia and speak Spanish and English.  I chided them for calling one a white gentleman.  I couldn’t imagine why they were give that name.  For international air travel, reservations must be made in the name as it appears on the passport.  My mind continued to boggle at how this mistake could have happened.  The laptop being used belonged to Jane’s daughter.  She came to assist with the online check-in and she was advised to the issue of the White Gentleman traveling to Rome.  After several more minutes Jane’s daughter commented it must be due to settings on the computer.  Since it is her work computer, it is set to automatically translate web pages. 

Slowly this bit of information seeped into our minds and we all realized what happened.  I began laughing boisterously.  Of course, now it made sense.  For those who don’t speak Spanish, here is a short lesson for you:

Jane’s mom is named Blanca Caballero.  In English, that translates to white gentleman. 

It was a short trip to London and we filled it to the brim.  As with many places I’ve visited, I hope to return someday. 

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Let death come and cover me with dark

This nightmare shines with images so stark

Ignored and forgotten, this circle of strife

So stuffs my belly with barren life

© January 2019

DWP

Old Year to New Year

Reflections fill

A year of life

Heartache and joy

Big grins, great strife

The time has come

And we part ways

May the new give

Happier days

No longer I

Will fill your heart

Another comes

And so you start

The road is open

Your way brand new

Can you see it?

What will you do?

Forget the bad

Treasure what’s neat

I hope you smile

Thinking of me

© December 2018

Duane Windell Phillips

Silent Night, Hubbub Night

Every year around the Christmas holiday it is the same.  We see quiet, respectful scenes of a baby lying in a manger.  Many of the trappings of modern society have gotten the story wrong. Even for those who have the story right, there is much we don’t consider.  Therefore, we miss what we can receive from that baby in the manger.  

Joseph and Mary owned mistakes and sins that weren’t theirs.  No one believed Mary was carrying God’s child?  I know I wouldn’t.  For the rest of their lives, Joseph and Mary paid the price for believing and obeying God. 

Even though she was about to deliver the baby, Joseph takes Mary on a trip to a town of his ancestors to be counted in a census. I’m inclined to think he had family in Bethlehem.  Why didn’t Joseph and Mary stay with them?  If I have family coming to the area where I live, I expect them to stay with me. Unfortunately, Joseph’s family thought he slept with his bride to be.  They didn’t want that sin in their house.  Knowing this, Joseph looked for lodging.  Maybe all the inns were full.  Maybe some innkeepers knew them and just said they were full.  

Can you imagine how Joseph felt?  Men want to provide for their family.  How devastating it must have been for Joseph not to secure a place suitable for Mary to deliver the baby.  They must have prayed about it.  They must have believed God would provide.  Did God seem silent?  

What was in Mary’s mind as she realized the baby would be born in a stable?  Did she feel forgotten by God?  This was His son.  What was God thinking to allow this to happen?  Regardless, I’m sure she preferred to be somewhere else to deliver her baby.

This baby, the Son of God, called Himself the Son of Man because He chose to identify with man.  He gave up His rightful place in heaven and came to earth to live like His creation.  He didn’t choose the easy life.  He was rejected and scorned but loved anyway.  He could have come to earth at a time when capital punishment was easy. Instead, He lived when the cruelest type of death was given to the worst criminals.  That is how Jesus died.  God didn’t take the easy way for His Son in birth or death.  

When Jesus was born, it was chaos.  I am sure of that.  The birth of every child of mine was wonderful, I say this as the father and not the mother, but it was also frantic.  How much more was it for Joseph and Mary as they hurriedly traveled, tried unsuccessfully to secure lodging, and were forced to settle for delivering a baby with smelly animals around.  All the while, they knew and believed Mary carried the Son of God.  

In this Christmas season, look deeper into the story of a child born in Bethlehem.  If you are someone who knows what it means to be scorned, despised, overlooked, judged, or disowned, you can find, in the baby Jesus, someone who understands.  Not only that, He came to do something about it.