Advice to New Parents: Relax

For those who do not know me, my wife and I have 5 children, all boys, ranging from ages 4 to 15, including a set of twins. At one point, although I have little memory of it, we had 4 children ages 4 and under. There are people who have more children than we do, and I respect them greatly, but people already call me crazy, so what does that make those who have more?

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The Enchanted Doorknob

[A Mother’s Day Message]

The doorknob is an overlooked wielder of magical wonder, which from strangers secures intimate secrets and mystery but to guests and those noble enough for a key opens to a world of adventures and dreams. Whether one passes within or without, it matters not, for on either side, that which is shut in or shut out, is a fascinating story just waiting to be lived in or found out.

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The Street Peddler

[My first response to the Daily Prompt: Hope]

A street vendor swept down from the yellowish mid-day sky, alighted on a wobbly, graffiti-covered park bench, which caused him to buck and sway for delicate moments as if on a precarious tightrope. When he finally acquired his balance, he unfurled like a bat, displaying the dollar wares tucked tightly within the inner folds and secretive pockets of his checkered and multi-layered cape. His smile was uncomfortable, his eyes shifty, and he reeked like swine with a spritz of patchouli. He adjusted his blood-red and soiled cap, which read, “MAGA Man,” in gaudy golden script, and hollered in a raspy, yet hypnotic, voice,

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Treasures of the Wooden Chest

Tock-tchhh . . . . Tock-tchhh . . . . Tock-tchhh . . . .

He repeatedly tapped and scraped the wooden cell door, to the point of digging a trench with his slender finger, seeking the wandering attention of his keeper.

Tock-tchhh . . . . Tock-tchhh . . . . Tock-tchhh . . . .

The rhythmic sound was interrupted only by the deathly quiet, when he strained for the slightest sound of curiosity.

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Parachutes Upon the Wind

Vanessa struggled within her sheets, the comfort of which she had worshiped for years, but now tossed her about like a tiny vessel upon the hostile waters of the great deep. Every ripple in the silken pool jarred her eyes open to the blackness around her. Her mind raced with worries, thorns in her sides that kept her awake while others snuggled dreamily without care or bother. Resentment began taking hold of her, a ruthless robber of peacefulness and contentment, especially when allowed to brood during the wakeless hours of the night.

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Abandoned Orbs Astray

[A prospective retrospection]

Padding down the wooden rails,
adrift impatient distance.
I lay and linger upon the cadence,
‘neath the soothing darkness blanket.
Somnolent bridle tightly clinched,
I plead for longer peace.
Yet giggle piercing light invades
the slumber that I seek.
Tiny fingers tug away,
my heart cannot wander.
So I stumble by his side,
the world so full of wonder.

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Calibrating the Mind

The compass. A simple yet life-giving tool for wanderers and adventurers. In my hands . . . useless. Sure, I know it points North, but what is North? I don’t even know which direction my house faces.

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When Your Cell Phone Needs a Seat Belt. 

I grasped the uniquely knobby VW shifter, thrust it into passing gear, and slipped delicately within a nook tucked tightly between two 18-Wheelers, whose inhospitality quickly nudged me into the passing lane, the wide openness of which beckoned me on a swift westward journey across the State of Tennessee highways. With time abundant, I tossed my mobile tether to the passenger seat and summoned old friends, John Hiatt, Chris Knight and Robert Earl Keen, to keep me company along the way.

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Superdad? Or The Greatest American Hero?

Is that song running through your mind now? I hope so. It is one of the catchiest sitcom theme tunes of all time. Whether you watched the show or not, you knew that song.

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Why Does God Not Reveal Himself?

I engaged in a discussion with a group of atheists the other day in response to one of the group’s members asking why God does not reveal Himself in an obvious way if He is real. Then, the atheist claimed, all witnesses would believe. At first glance that sounds rational, doesn’t it? How many times have each of us either longed to see a sign from God or directly asked for a sign? How often do we pray and yearn for a sign that God is listening? As the seeds of doubt sprout in our minds, perhaps we need just a small sign to give us comfort that what we believe is real. Is that too much to ask of God? We can empathize with the atheist’s question, can’t we? And yet, the Bible shows God revealing Himself to the world time and time again to no avail.

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