A river runs through it

When I first bought my house I wondered what that little raised cement bump was for where my driveway meets the street. I wondered until the first good rain, and saw that my neighbors house, which didn't have one had all the runoff from the storm run right down their driveway and through their back yard. About 30 minutes before this picture was taken, the rain was hard enough to over top the bump, and I had a good amount of water flowing through my back yard.

My rain gauge says a little over three inches since last night when I came home, they are saying another 1/2 inch is possible. More pictures may be added to this.

Peter Loggins Corn Eating Method

Look, someone else has Peter Loggin's odd corn eating method.
And I've issued a challenge too!
photo somewhat courtesy of CNN

The Witness Who Can't Say What He's Seen

“a failed attempt to translate thoughts and feelings into words” is the tag line to Suzie’s blog. This is how my life feels right at the moment, only without much in the way of angst, more of an inability to express what is going on inside my head. It’s not even frustrating, it’s just a failure. So I wrote this “poem”.


The Witness Who Can’t Say What He’s Seen

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. As though I am eating alphabet soup with ten inch high letters, the words are too big to be said.

They cannot be written, cannot be drawn, nor expressed visually, I am like a man on fire in the desert, nothing will bring relief.

For I opened the door marked eternity, ventured through, and into the mind of God, rested in flowers made of joy, and saw sights not for the mortal mind.

What mind, having witnessed for itself, the unfathomable love of it’s creator, could be satisfied ever again by the mere triflings of we humans.

For I’ve been crushed by love and stomped by understanding, serenity has been burned, no branded right onto my psyche; a drug, and I want more.

I want, I need, I crave, more, more, more, until I am nothing but a vessel of love, an addict of peace, looking for my next fix.

And what is left of who I used to be? Torn and tattered, it hunkers in the corner like a rabid dog, waiting for any opening to bite me again.

It has no chance, no pain can stop me now, a blinding white fog surrounds me, the animal is gone, and I leave the blessed lands... and return

to the chaotic lands where I was hatched, my worldly needs left behind, wanting to return to the beauty, and rest again in the gardens of love.

All I can now be until that day comes, is an instrument of His peace, and the cup of His love ... drink, my friends, drink deeply.

Like a Rock

If a tree falls in the middle of a storm, but it doesn't wake me, does it really make a sound?

How did I sleep through this? This is maybe 60 yards from my bedroom, the window was open wide enough for the cats to sit in it.

A New Wind Blowing

Something is changing.

It may just be really simple, I am cycling back into being more relaxed with myself... But I think it is more, that God has rebuilt or just plain made a new foundation for my life. It feels like I am a house, and I am being moved from my current spot to a new one in a beautiful spot.

It started while I was praying and God said “talk to Me”. I’ve been trying to talk to God rather than just praying at Him. I’ve wanted to do this since I began my ‘recovery’, but I’ve afraid of what He would say to me even though He has always been so gentle. I think deep down I’ve had this fear of having God talk to me and instead of hearing “you did this, this, this, and this wrong”, hearing “I love you.” I can stand the scolding, I don’t know how to deal with the love.

I’m not exactly the returning prodigal son, but I feel like I am moving into a house much closer to church.