Confession Tuesday - What a difference a week makes

For Real?

Dear Reader:

It's been a week since my last confession. A week of cold days and beautiful days. A short work week and a long weekend.

I confess that I easily get spoiled when I have a Monday holiday tacked on a weekend. I also tend to be confused about the day during the rest of the work week.

When I came to you last week I expressed a variety of emotions but one was a disappointment I did not go into details but it centered on not hearing that I made cut in a program that I was exceptionally excited about. I was under the impression that the deadline for notification had come and passed I since I heard nothing I assumed I was out of the running.  Yes, I confess that I moped about it  a bit but decided that  it was a real long shot and quickly  got over it. I chose to consider it just one of those down sides to life that would be counter balanced by something good. And as I also mentioned last week something did happen that I expressly felt blessed by.

Skip forward to today. What a difference a week can make, because this afternoon I opened my email and nearly fell off my chair because there in my email was a new arrival that in fact was the news I was looking for a week ago. I had not been passed over.

I confess I was so totally taken by surprise and excited and this has sort of overshadowed everything since my last confession.

Confession Tuesday - Blessings Edition

Dear Reader:

Sometimes I don't quite know where to start on Confession Tuesday. Life can be funny. You can go through a week and think back and nothing or everything jumps out at you. Sometimes you don't know what on earth you are going to confess and sometimes there are so many places you can go you don't know what to whittle it down to. This week is neither of those.

As I look at this past week there are three places that I need to go with this confession. I will work sort of in reverse order of the magnitude of these .

On Saturday I turned  #@. I confess that I always meet my birthdays with a mixtd perspective. I'm not especially enamored by being a year older yet I am happy to be here given the alternative. Age has always been difficult to me.  I did have a wonderful dinner with part of my family that was available. We dined at the Olive Garden. Among those present was Harper. I confess that Harper brings so much joy to life. She is my granddaughter and she is so stinking cute that I'm certain it cannot be legal. She is going to be a talker. At just under three months old she can jabber up a storm. My daughter tagged me with a Happy Birthday video of her on Facebook. I've listened to it so many times It could seem like it went viral. So, altogether my birthday was a plus. I am grateful  to be alive and - life is good!

It would however not be a life without disappointments. They are after all the valley by which we measure the elevation of the mountains. I was disappointed this past week by something related to my writing that did not happen. Details aren't important. What is important is that like everyone else who ever pursues something - you sometimes have hopes that  do not fully address reasonable expectations. I'm accustomed to rejection letters and they rarely phase me. But this was something the left me feeling down on Friday - the day before my birthday. I am reconciled with the matter now. I know more about the situation to understand the long odds of the program.  I view this disappointment and greater understanding as a blessing- something I would never have said on Friday.

The last of this week's confessions is more tricky. It starts at a place unlike the previous with absolutely no expectation. As it turns out I was the beneficiary of very generous gift. It came from a family member who said they were led to do what they did by the Holy Spirit. Again, the details of the gift are not the story here, the story is that this came from out of nowhere. My first reaction was oh hell no, It's not something I feel deserving of. It's a significant sacrifice. But I in no way question that this person prayed about this and feels strongly about being moved by the Holy Spirit in this direction. As uncomfortable as this makes me on one hand, it is undeniably a blessing. How can one argue with the Holy Spirit and the love of the giver.

I have laid out before you three confessions. Through it all this week has been a week of blessings.
I'm thankful for the life I have, the people in it, and these blessings. I look forward to what is ahead...

Amen~

Confession Tuesday - I'm No Gymnast Edition

Dear Reader:

I have been a fallen away confessor. It's true, and I can't recall how many weeks have passed since my last Confession Tuesday or any other day for that matter.

So, I come to you tonight repentant and I confess a little nonchalant.  You see, the time off work for the Christmas holiday and the soon to be New Year holiday is cramping my serious style.

I confess that over Christmas I read leasurly and wrote the same way. Some time I write with abandonment but not over the holiday. And I admit that I enjoyed the more laid back approach that I took. I'm pretty much ready for more of that over New Year's break.

I confess that I love getting reading and writing related materials in the mail. New poetry book recently that I mentioned in my last post. New Poet's and Writer's Magazine and like two days later the latest copy of The Writer's Chronicle. I could be really happy if I only got this sort of stuff in the mail instead of bills. I know, who wouldn't. I get so excited when Poet's and Writer's is in the mailbox I do cartwheels into the house with it. I must also confess that I sometime exaggerate my gymnastic capabilities. I think going up the walk with the magazine in had I may have once tripped and fell forward.

My wife and I went to the half price book store tonight after work. Had a gift card and there was a 20% off sale. I got three items and still have money left on the card. I confess that made the trip (insert a synonym for awesome here).  Couple of years ago - maybe it was last year I forget, but I gave up "that word" for lent (among other things) and I have to say that it has crept back into my vocabulary at an alarming rate. Anyway, it's starting to annoy me again. Maybe this should be a resolution for 2015 - to put the word to rest again. Maybe I should make up my own replacement word. Humm.... something to to think about.

Well, I confess I'm confessed out, but I will be back next week, Promise!

Currently I'm Reading: - Gods of Water and Air by Rachel Dacus

Every once and a while you read a phrase, a sentence or stanza that you wish you had written...

Last night the full moon in perigee
rose, a coin so bright
it could buy back any sorrow. 

From the poem I Live At The Bottom of the Earth 
By Rachel Dacus.

Writing Thought for the Day

“The master said You must write what you see.

But what I see does not move me.

The master answered Change what you see.”

-          -Louise Gluck , Vita Nova

Mag 248: Their Union

Bond of Union - 1956 - M.C. Escher

It seems hard to acclimate themselves.

Each questioning their bearings. 

Each unwinding their individuality.

Each individual struggling to be themselves.

By their union they have unwrapped  

a bit of who they were and have become

yet a third person--

She feels her ball bearings free

and He, his. They seem lost 

and at the same time found.

Sometimes they feel they have left behind

a simpler time. A time when their thoughts

and feelings traveled within a tighter orbit.

It was different then. Not to say it was better.

Not to say it was worse. Just less complex.  

The Mag 248

Michael Allyn Wells

MAG 247 - Snowstorm

Snowstorm - Maurice de Vlaminck

There is harsh

biting winter 

with winds that cut 

your cheeks, water your eyes

blurring your vision.

A winter that numbs

your toes till you think 

they have fallen off.

A winter that stiffens

your back and neck

till you think you are

the only living example

of rigor mortis.

And there is the winter

with bare trees

whose branches lift

the snow in praise.

The winter whose sky

paints a canpoy

with white and shadows 

that cover us for days,

even weeks. 

The ground, the roads,

virgin white at first, 

the metamorphosis 

into sculptured drifts

ashen ruts in streets

a blinding cover

far as the eye can see.

Michael Allyn Wells

The Mag 247