my own corner of the world

It is my own little corner of the world. Her red wooden floors, smudged chalkboard menus and hanging paper lamps escape me as I peer out of my window in the corner of the tiny Annapolis coffee shop. The smell of coffee, pastries and old books lofts though the air as does the crescendo of the brass section playing jazz on the radio in the back of the store. I look out my window past the water canal known as "ego ally" where many so presumptuously parade their boats. I look beyond the outlying harbors filled with the noise of wind whistling through their rigging as if the sirens were enchantingly singing to come sail their waters and ride upon their waves.

It is muggy, sweat beads upon my forehead as I sip my hot cup of coffee. Tourists walk by and stare- first at my motorcycle outside the window, then at me, lowering their gaze to my tattooed arms. They look away. Soon they will scamper off talking about shoes the price of gas and their plans for next labor day. Here I will remain in my tiny, nautical hometown, sipping my overpriced, watered down coffee, thumbing through a worn copy of my paperback sitting contentedly in my own little corner of the world. Blessings.

mudders

They are easy to take for granted due to their silent servitude. Today, I am thankful for mine. Blessings.

hammers, nails and sore thumbs

I heard a story once about a man who disciplined his son in such a way, that every time his son said something hurtful to someone he had to hammer a nail into the wood fence nearby their house.

After a while, there was no longer a place to hammer a nail so the son went to him and said "Father, there is no more room for me to carry out my punishment." The father then replied, "Go and remove all the nails." The boy did as he was told and when he was done he looked at the nearly collapsed, hole-ridden fence. He then understood what his father had taught him.

When we use our words to hurt people, we drive nails into their hearts. When we apologize later, we remove the nail but the deep gashes of hurt still remain.

"I said I will guard my ways that I may not sin with my tongue... I was mute and silent; I held my peace to no avail, and my distress grew worse. My heart became hot within me, As I mused the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue: O Lord, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days: let me know how fleeting I am!" Psalm 39:1-4

"If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person's religion is worthless." James 1:26

Yesterday, I nailed my last nail.

air raid!

At 8:00 last night the air raid sirens began to scream all over the Judean Hill Country.

My first thought was "Hmmm... Air raid."

My second thought was "Air raid!?" I was intensely curious so I went outside to see the action... nothing.
It was to commemorate Israel's Memorial Day.

On the Jewish calendar, the next day begins at sunset the night before, this was the cause of my alarm.

As I write the sirens begin their high-pitch commemoration once more as three low-flying jets scream by. Ahhh Israel, I will miss you.

reconstruction

A special word of thanks to Amos and Luke for their continued efforts on improving this site. It all began by ironing out a wrinkle in my code, but it turned into a complete site reconstruction.

There are many new features to this site that you will find helpful and aesthetically pleasing. You can now read "to walk with a limp" in 10 different languages by clicking on the flag of choice above. Contacting me is now easier than ever by selecting the airmail stamp to the left. Also new on this blog will be a quote a week on the sidebar, maybe more if I am so inspired. There are still other small improvements and many more to come. Thank you for your support of this site and what it stands for: Commitment to Jesus Christ through written word and silent praxis.