God’s House

2 Samuel 7:1 “…….Look, I’m living in a house made of cedar, while the ark of God remains in the tent.” ESV

Daniel stood staring at the big church building. It was the most opulent building in town. Outshining the court house, library and The Brewer Mansion. This had to be the most impressive modern honor to God ever built. 

His hands started shaking. A rustling noise reminded him of the newspaper he was holding. Church secretary. Okay, he didn’t go to school; 4 years of seminary to be a secretary. But if it got him in the door; got him closer to his true calling; he’d take it. 

One of the visibly heavy front double doors opened with ease. An older man with silver hair smiled. “Daniel?”

It took a moment for him to connect the dots that this man of God was speaking directly to him. “Yes,” he shook off his nerves. “Yes.”

The man laughed, “come in.”

Daniel was hit with cool air; a sharp contrast to the hot humid air outside. His nose was flooded with sweet smells. The inside was every bit as ornate as the outside. There were 6 men he could see, smiling, laughing and having a great time. He jumped as the heavy door was locked behind him. “Gotta keep the rif raf out.”

The laughter started all over. 

“Tell us why you want this job?” One man boomed over the laughter. All the men were dressed in khakis and a polo shirt with what Daniel guessed was the church logo. 

He couldn’t afford to blow this. At the same time, an uneasiness crept through his body. The laughter was gone and 6 pairs of steely eyes stared at him. 

Dry mouthed, he answered, “honestly sirs, I want my foot in the door. I think this job will give me valuable experience that will allow me to fulfill my ultimate goal of becoming a pastor.”

Another man scoffed, “your resume is lack luster.”

Daniel felt heat rise to his cheeks, “yes sirs. This will be my first real job.”

“How was seminary?” Another man asked.

“I grew up in church. My mom taught Sunday school classes. Seminary taught me how little I actually knew about the Bible.”

The oldest man drawled, “not from ‘round hur?” It was all Daniel could do not to smile. It struck him that this was the most honest thing he had encountered in a long time. Four little words spoken with a heavy cornbread accent. Country got a side eye from the man that had opened the door for Daniel. 

“No sir, I’m not.”

They marched Daniel through the sanctuary. Past rows of mahogany pews. And what seemed like acres of flowers in full bloom. That was the smell that he smelt. Flowers. Daniel had never seen so many real flowers in bloom; in person. 

The lead man turned a gold colored knob on a door so white Daniel thought it might glow in the dark. He followed him down a hallway to a small office lined with file cabinets. A small desk was in the center of the room facing the door. They had spent no money on this room. 

One of the men that had yet to speak handed Daniel a card that looked for the world like a credit card. “This is your key card to get in the back door.”

The lead man added, handing him a folder, “these are your duties. Monday – Thursday 8 to 5. Friday 8 to 3. And you will get paid to attend church on Sunday 10:30 to 12:30.”

“Yes, sirs.” Daniel accepted the folder. “Thank you.”

They gave him the grand tour. Most importantly, showed him the kitchen and the bathroom. “See you tomorrow.” They waved him off. 

Being Human

I have been watching a BBC tv show called “Being Human”. The following quote is from episode 4 season 1: “You can piss your whole life away, trying out who you might be. It’s when you’ve worked out who you are that you can really start to live.”

Can I get an AMEN?!

Apply this to your life. When we are children, we grow up in our parents environment. When we move out, many teens/young adults struggle with figuring out who they are. They “experiment”. That’s the buzz word, right? It seems like we really don’t start to figure out who we are ‘really are’ until our late 40’s early 50’s. I know this can vary by person/personality. 

I have always been envious of people who knew from the time they were children that they wanted to be a doctor, lawyer, or cop. I’ve never had such ambitions. Or have I?

I’ve watched/read stories about women who have had complete melt downs because of menopause; loosing their ability to have children. Their identity is being a mom. Likewise with men who are having erectile disfunction, that is how they identify being a man. 

What is your identity? Can you stand with your feet firmly planted on the ground and say (fill in your answer here); I am a Christian. I am a sinner saved by grace. I am a woman. You might be a man. I am …….? 

Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation.

The rehearsal

 Jean-Luc and Beverly walked down the corridor. She was the first to speak, “Jean-Luc?”

    He interrupted her, “Beverly?”

    They looked at each other blushing like school children. “What do you think about that little display?” she asked.

    The door to his quarters slid open. He motioned for her to enter. After the door slid closed behind them, he spoke. “I wonder if that was how Romeo felt?


    “What do you mean?”

    “Can I get you anything?”

    “No, I’m fine.” She said as she sat on the couch.

    His door chimed, “come.”

    It was Deanna and Wil. Deanna looked around and saw Beverly, “are we interrupting?”

    “No, not at all.” Beverly answered. 

    Deanna and Wil joined Beverly on the couch. Picard sat in a chair close to Beverly. “We were trying to figure out what happened in there?” He commented.

    “As were we.” Wil offered. For 5 minutes, I was Casanova.” He grinned.

    “A criminal?” Beverly asked.

    “No a lover with wit and charm. I can see me retiring to write my memoirs.”

    “Would you have 12 volumes?” Picard asked.

    “More.” Wil laughed.

    “I can almost envision that.” Picard smiled, “I fancied myself to Romeo.”

    “Romeo?” Deanna asked. “A passionate yet doomed lover?”

    “Yes.” Came his honest reply. “That makes twice Data has done something to invoke strange emotions in us.”

    “Maybe he is just giving us the opportunity to think about things that we should?” Wil inquired.

    “That was by far the best piece of music I have ever heard.” Beverly stopped.

    “What was that thing, for the lack of a better description? That developed in the corner of the room?” Wil asked.

    “You can’t convince me otherwise that it wasn’t the,” Beverly stopped.

    “Essence of a person.” Picard finished her sentence.

    “Exactly.”

    “And did it curtsy at him?” Deanna asked.

    “I thought it did.” Beverly remarked. “It was as if it was in the room already.”

    “Invisible. But his playing made it take form.” Wil added.

    “You don’t think that could have been inside Data and his playing brought it out?” Beverly frowned.

    Deanna analyzed, “I think that would have made his behavior more complex than that it has been. If that would have been the case, he would have acted schizophrenic.” 

    “You don’t think Data has been acting like two different people?” Picard asked.

    “No, I think he has been acting like a person who is confused, desperate.

    “Do you think he is acting out events that have happened in his past?” Picard asked.

    “No, I think he is remembering events in the past during those periods of turmoil. I still stick to my hypothesis that someone or something is communicating with him.” Deanna spoke. 

    “The formation in the corner could have been an attempted reconstruction of whomever is communicatingwith him,” Beverly interjected.

    “Do you think that is her ship?” Wil pointed out the window.

    “Her?” Picard questioned.

    “In my head, that outline was of a woman.”

    “And on the Jormungand in the Luminaria we saw part of a conversation Data was having with a woman.” Deanna remembered.

    “She had harsh things to say about Admiral Westerfield.” Wil added. 

    “He wasn’t invited to this rehearsal.”

    “Could it have been her?”

    “She would have to be a powerful being in order for that to happen.” 

    “Powerful, perhaps in trouble?” 

    “That is an interesting theory.” Picard voiced.

    “She said lots of things that I have questions about. She said she was a Goodwill Ambassador. I’ve tried to research Good Wil Ambassadors but there isn’t anything in our database.” Beverly hissed.

    “She also felt that Westerfield deployed her without proper authorization from the president.” Deanna commented.

    “None of this was in your reports.” Picard snapped.

    Deanna looked at Wil. “We are having a hard time writing a report. The things we want to say just don’t sound right. They don’t make any sense.”

    “If they don’t make sense to us, how are they going to make sense to you” Wil added.

    “What is a Luminaria?” Picard asked.

    “You have to see this thing?” Wil answered. He tapped his communicator. “Data, meet me in Transporter room 2.” He turned back to the group. “Let’s move our meeting.” The four friends moved to transporter room 2 where Data was waiting. 

Where is God?

Take a look at the tree?

Dare to hold a bee.

See the water running wild.

Cradle the innocence of a child.   

Feel the sun, warm on your skin. 

Delicate flowers, your heart to mend. 

Catch a snow flake on your nose.

Picture a bird doing a pose. 

Chase a leave falling on the cool breeze. 

Seasons change, don’t forget your sleeves. 

Shine moon, share your glow. 

Twinkle stars, winking at us here below. 

Where is God? Did you see him today?

Or is he lost like a needle in the hay?

God is here.

God is there.

God is everywhere. 

He’s not hidden. He’s in plain sight.

And he loves you with all his might.

Feel him? He stands at the door and knocks. 

Open the door, a life in Christ will knock off your socks. 

Life is still hard. 

Many things will make you tard*.

Bad things will happen daily. 

Putting your faith in God doesn’t make you crazy. 

*Tard is country for tired. 

All I ask is that please don’t let someone else define God for you. Christians are human. We say bad things. We do bad things. Perception is Satan’s second most powerful tool. While it is my goal to live a life pleading to God; I fail every day. Grace gives me the power to repent sincerely and try again. 

Thank you for reading Where is God?

Thankful Thursday

Every generation worries about the generation after it. To get a good example of this; listen to Billy Joel’s version of We Didn’t Start the Fire released in 1989 verses Fall Out Boys version released in 2023. These 2 songs give us an excellent snap shot of what was happening in the world around us, 34 years apart. 

Reading Walden (first published in 1854) by Thoreau, I laughed out loud when Thoreau started talking about “brain-rot”. He cautions against what he termed “brain-rot”, as a decline in mental vitality caused by suppressing curiosity and embracing unreflective habits. I laughed because the same thing was said about t.v. The boob tune. Then computers. Now smartphones. Each generation worries about the generations after them. That THEY will finally cause OUR world to collapse. 

Something happened that gave me pause to think; maybe it will be okay. Maybe; because change scares us, we just need to breathe and not worry so much. 

The company I work for hired a summer intern. This young man is between 19 and 21. I didn’t ask him his age. But he’s a senior in college. On his last day, he gave me and 2 other ladies (that were involved in his training) a plant and a thank you card. I was blown away at how sweet this was. 

Before I left one college and transferred out, I was taking Business Management. Never in any of my classes was it encouraged to give a present to anyone when you left. Personally or professionally. All throughout my work life, it is common to give presents to the person leaving. I have never witnessed the reverse. 

Good parenting? Good character? Strong faith? I pray this young man is a snap shot of his generation. 

I’m thankful for the opportunity to have worked with him. The change in prospective he’s offered. God puts people in our lives for a reason. 

  

Adding more protein to my life

What was the last thing you searched for online? Why were you looking for it?

For those readers that have been following my last weight loss journey, I’ve been adding more protein to my diet. Trying to not eat as many carbs. LOVE THEM! But my diet can’t be carb centered.

The last thing I searched for online was plant based protein power. I’ve been experimenting with whey protein power. It might be doing difficult things to my digestive system. I’ve never been formally diagnosed as lactose intolerance. I can eat cheese and yogurt all day long. But milk has never been my friend. It is difficult for me to straight up drink a glass of milk. Unless it’s chocolate or strawberry. Even as a child, I’ve never liked milk.

So here’s to continued education.

Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation.

Concert

    Madam Torva was holding a concert in the theater. The children had been practicing for months now and it was time to show off their talents. Madam Torva had the reputation of being one of the most difficult music teachers anywhere. She demanded discipline, precision, and perfect timing with HER music. Two (2) the age parents brought their children to Madam Torva, they could read and play music. Their childhood joy of learning to play had developed into a longing for a profession. 

    She had on display a mandolin, a 12 string acoustic guitar, a banjo, a violin, a set of calfskin tambourines, an alto saxophone, a clarinet, and a flute. A If a child couldn’t play more than one instrument, he or she was proficient on the instrument they chose to play. She had 10 children under her tutelage. The room was set up ready for them to play. A small program was handed out listing the music they would play. Members of the senior staff and the parents of the children attended the rehearsal. Madam Torva had chosen 7 songs to be performed:

1. Ludwig van Beethoven’s: Violin Concerto In D: Rondo, 

2. Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky: ‘The Nutcracker’: Dance of the Sugar-Plum Fairy,

3. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: The Marriage of Figaro: Overture to ‘The Marriage of Figaro’,

4. Gioacchino Rossini: ‘The Barber of Seville’: Overture to ‘The Barber of Seville’,

5. Antonio Vivaldi: ‘The Four Seasons’: Concerto in F Major – Autumn: Allegro 

6. Dominick Argento: ‘The Dream of Valentino’: Valentino Dances

7. Franz Schubert: Piano Sonata, 3 Klavierstucke, D. 946: No. 3 in C – Allegro

    Everyone gathered around and enjoyed an evening of delightful, well played music.

After a well performed program, Madam Trova introduced each student and their parents. She said, “There is a little musician in all of us. What do you like to play?” She addressed the question to the entire group. Everyone looked around but no one answered. Then she started calling on people, “Commander Riker, do you play an instrument?”

    “I can play the keyboard but I prefer the trombone.”

    “Captain?”

    He cleared his throat, “I dabble with a Kataanan flute.”

    “Interesting,” she raised an eyebrow. “Doctor Crusher?

    “I prefer to dance.”

    “Oh, but what is dance without music?” She sighed. “Mr. Worf?”

    He growled. The rest of the senior staff smiled. “I do not play.”

    “Okay.” She cleared her throat again, “help yourself to hors d’oeuvers.”

    Data stared at the violin. Geordi interrupted his thoughts. “Play it. We all know you can.”

    “Something does not feel right. I feel strange.”

    “Strange how?” Geordi asked with concern in his voice.

    “I am unsure. I do not want to play it. Though, I feel I need to play it.”

    “Are you afraid you are going to embarrass yourself?” 

    Data just gazed at him. “No, not in the least.” He picked up the violin, holding it to his chin. He took a deep breath drawing the bow across the strings. It was sweet and soft. Everyone in the room stopped their conversations to marvel as Data played. Ave Maria flowed with the sweetness of honey from the bow. The strings oozed with nectar. Deanna huddled close to Wil. He wrapped his arm around her waist as she placed her head on his shoulder. Beverly inched closer and closer to Jean-Luc. She had a lone tear in her eye. She knew Data could play but she had no idea he could play this well.

    In the corner of the room, particles started to form. Ice blue, the particles began to increase in number. Beverly looked around the room to see if she was the only person to notice them. She poked Jean-Luc with her elbow. Geordi stepped from behind Data in the direction of the particles. Though he dared not get too close. The more Data played the more particles collected. They swirled around each other growing larger in size. They began to take shape. They almost reminded Deanna of a person. Little red particles started collecting at the top of the model. She could feel Wil pull her closer. Smoke began to come up from the floor. Madam Trova was in shock. The children smiled with delight. One of the children accompanied Data on the piano. Then another violin joined in. The three of them played in perfect harmony. The model in the corner stopped spinning. It was the outline of a person. Geordi was amazed at the formation he saw. The colors looked like the painting in the Jormungand’s library. The trio ended the song. Data stumbled backwards. 

    “Data,” Geordi made sure he caught his balance. “Are you okay?”

    “No.”

    The room was in awe. Still staring at the corner. Data turned to see the wonderful formation. It seemed to curtsy at him. Data was holding the violin. “Geordi, take it. Before I drop it.” Geordi took the instrument from Data’s trembling hands. The little girl that had accompanied him with the other violin walked over to him, “thank you,” he moaned. When he passed out, the formation vanished with a flash of white light.  Geordi was able to catch Data’s head before it hit the floor. 

Everyone was in shock.  

Where is god?

Adult content, language, drugs, abuse (multiple forms), please read with discretion. May be a trigger for some readers. Reader discretion advised. 

This story has massive amounts of adult content. So much out of my wheel house, here’s to something different.

Psalm 88: 8-9

8  “You have caused my companions to shun me; you have made me a horror[b] to them. I am shut in so that I cannot escape;

9 my eye grows dim through sorrow. Every day I call upon you, O Lord; I spread out my hands to you.” ESV

Where is god?

At the time of writing this 2023, the last death by firing squad was in 2010. That changed this year (2025) when 2 people were killed by firing squad in South Carolina. 

Where is god?

Death

I was hot. The sun beat down on me causing sweat to soak my clothes. The sound of guns cocking made my blood run cold. But I didn’t flinch; just stood up straighter, taller. 

Objects pelted my body. But I refused to open my eyes. I had promised. 

Instead of a last meal, I asked if I could see Maggie’s place one more time. It was the preacher that filled my request. He made a video of more than just Chico’s Place. There were 20 or so Chihuahua’s there. They looked healthy and happy. It had grown bigger than I ever imagined. A recovery/therapy level had been added to the rescue. Chihuahua’s were being taken to nursing homes. Children with disabilities could do therapy with the Chihuahua. I balled seeing that old rocking chair. A man was sitting in it holding what looked like a teenager wearing some kind of head gear. A Chihuahua was standing on the arm of the rocker licking the youths feet. The youth laughed and laughed. “Remember, don’t kick.” The man gently reminded. 

 God had taken a lazy afternoon conversation and turned it into a spectacular outreach. Yes, I gave God the credit. 

The last death by firin’ squad was in 2010. It was presumptuous of me to request it. But I did. I put out an invitation for volunteers. Over 1 million people volunteered to be my executioner. One million people wanted me to die. I was a killer and had no place in society. Death was best for me. 50 chose to be in the line up to fire the death shot. All of them asked for live ammunition. It shocked me to my very core. It shouldn’t have really. But it did. One million people were willing to throw the first stone. 

Those that didn’t get chosen, were actively throwing things at me. 

A voice came over an intercom. “Do not throw things. You will be asked to disband.”

I had requested not to wear a blindfold. “It’s for the executioners. Not you.” I was told.

“They volunteered.” I protested. The compromise was that I had to keep my eyes closed. 

“God, I know I haven’t been a good person. I’ve done bad things. You saw fit to save a thief on the cross. Is there room for me in your kingdom? I am a sinner. I deserve my end….”

An explosion filled my ears. The crowd cheered wildly. The sting of a bullet pierced my skin. A new warm stream rolled down my body. As I fell to my knees, I saw Maggie. Chico by her side. She was glowing. Happy. Smiling a radiant smile. Her arms open wide. “Maggie.” I felt myself say over the roar of the crowd. She wrapped her arms around me. All I could feel was the warmth of her embrace.

Was this heaven? Was this God? Would he really accept a sinner like me?

Romans 10:9 ESV

9 “because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”

This is the end of the story. Closing poem to follow. 

Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation 

A very good friend 

    Geordi had moved Data to the lived in bedroom. He was setting in a chair watching Data. ‘You are a very good friend,’ kept ringing in his ears. He couldn’t get used to the idea of Data collapsing. This Data was turning into a completely different Data than the one he knew. But then as we experience life we change with it. Events tend to nurture emotions in us. He knew that with his own personality.

    Geordi stood up as Data’s body began to rise off the bed. “What?” He backed up as Data started to spin in midair. Faster and faster he spun. He was spinning so fastthat his communicator flew off, Geordi ducked just in time to miss it, whizzing past his head. Data’s body slammed onto the bed. “Data?” Geordi was very cautious about checking on his friend. “Data.” Data rose from the bed screaming. Geordi fell backwards into the floor. “Data!” He fell back to the bed. Geordi scrambled to get out of the floor. “Data.” He inched closer to the bed.

    Data was a mess. His hair. His clothing. He stood up straitening his person. “I have to figure out what is going on here. I do not know how much more of this I can take.” He stopped looking a Geordi. “Emotionally that is.” I now know what a nagging question feels like when the answer is uncertain.”

    “What is the question? I can’t think of a central one. I can think of hundreds.”

    “The central question for me is, why is this happening?”

     “Why? How? Who’s causing it? The list goes on and on.” Geordi took a deep breath, “Data,” he commented as he sat on the edge of the bed.

    Data turned toward him.

    “Do you think a series of events will start effecting the crew?


    “I think they already have. Members of the crew have been seeing things, hearing things. Things that cannot be explained as a dream or an overactive imagination. I feel the crew; especially certain members of us are going to be experiencing reoccurring strange events.”

    “One burning question right now is how one person can fly this ship?”

    “Why assume it is only one person?”

    Geordi looked around. “This is just the impression I get. One very creative person.”

    “Very perceptive my friend.”

    “Where did that come from?”

    “Should I not call you my friend?”

    “You are my friend. It’s just a coincidence I guess. Something spoke to me earlier telling me I am a ‘very good friend’. Odd.”

    “Odd is going to become the familiar.”

    “Are you going to the concert tonight?”

    “Yes.” They returned to the Enterprise together.