Mowing for Jesus

There was a tiny, little boy who would sit by himself and read the Bible for hours on end when he could have been playing instead with his older brother and sisters. Inside of his heart his love for God was growing and he longed to express it, but there was very little he was capable of doing because he was still very young. But as his love grew so did his desire to serve God in some way. Then he came up with two ideas and said to himself, 

“I know. I could collect the hymnals after Church services and mow the lawn at the church too. I'm big enough to do those things!” 😃

 And that is what he quietly and faithfully did.

As time passed the little boy grew in stature and abilities. He got a high education and came into several positions of large influence. He walked amongst the highest halls of power and his great knowledge was sought by young and old alike. He spoke on world stages in front of millions of people and never forgot to include Jesus's great “Plan of Salvation”.

When his life on earth was over and he was in Heaven, it came to be his turn at the Bema Seat of Christ. 

Jesus motioned him forward and he came and knelt before the Lord. The books that recorded all the deeds of his life were brought forward and read out loud as the Testimony of his life, while all those gathered listened. When this was finished, the Lord bestowed on him an honor so great that those in attendance gasped. The man humbly and gratefully accepted the honor but was puzzled.

Jesus knowing his thoughts asked him,

"What is it that is puzzling you, My child? What do you wish to know?”

The man answered, “This is truly a great reward , Lord, but I'm wondering for what of all of the many things I did in my life are you granting me such a great honor.

Was it for my fight for Religious Freedom?”

“No, Son.”

“”Was it for all the talks I gave at ProLife rallies?”

“No, Son.”

“Was it for creating a huge Grassroots movement that saw large shifts towards the “Christian Ethos” in Government?”

“No, Son.”

“Was it because of all the millions of people who heard the Gospel because I dared to speak it out in a hostile social climate?”

“No, Son. It was for none of those things. I am pleased to give you this mighty reward for collecting the hymnals and mowing the lawn.”

“I still don't understand, Jesus.”

“All those many deeds you accomplished in your strength and abilities and you did them to benefit yourself in some way, but in my mercy and because of my atoning blood I am able to overlook your selfishness. But when you collected the hymnals and mowed the grass you did it from your pure and unadulterated heart and solely because you loved me and desired to demonstrate your love in some way.”

In Heaven the dynamics are very different to how they work here on earth.

Jesus told us when describing them,

“The last will be first and the first will be last.”

(Matthew 20:16)

You may see, what you perceive, to be great things done by great people but God doesn't view it that way. He sees and records our motivations at the same time as our actions and any and all the things you do solely because you love Jesus, no matter what value the world places on them, is what Jesus will reward you for. And the deeds that seem so mighty in this world's realm will be nothing but chaff to be burned up when we get to Heaven.

Now, go out with joy and with our Master's Peace until we gather again. 

The Truth with Love,

 Always Laura-Lee 🙂‍↕️

“For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace …”

Isaiah 55:12a

Link to all of Isaiah, chapter 55

Remain trustworthy in "little" things.

Link to the "Parable of the Shrewd Manager"

Link to Luke 16:1-15

☘️☘️🌹🌹☘️☘️

ReUnited UnDiminished (poem)

  

REMEMBER. All poetry needs to be read OUT LOUD.

ReUnited UnDiminished 

by Laura-Lee Rahn 

When arriving in Heaven a great man I saw,

Without a blemish and without a flaw.

A man of honor and unique in style,

Yet without audacity nor any guile.

I stood and looked on just like a lug,

While he ran to me with a welcoming hug.

He looked at me with a twinkling eye

"Don't you remember?" he asked with some wry.

"When we were both bound to the same lowly earth,

the same place and time we both found New Birth."

My memory leaped like a fire all ablaze

And my mind came alive to those former days

With humbled souls we kneeled at the altar

Yet our lives and hearts many times would still faulter

I grew and became a great man of God,

While the man before me received not a nod.

He quickly fell and I judged him a pervert,

And also quickly declared him, "False Convert!"

Before him now I admitted with shame

I had stooped to call him that horrible name.

"While on earth", he replied, "I was riddled with sin,

As I battled hourly the 'old man' within.

Time after time I did struggle again

But through the Blood of Jesus I overcame.

I knew you looked at me always appalled

And I know all the names I was frequently called.

Though my arrival here came much too early,

I've awaited your coming with blessed assurity.

With joy expecting your grand arrival

 watching you daily cling to your Bible."

On earth I was rich but now I was poor

with head bowed I confessed to him even much more.

"With glee in my heart I consigned you to hell,

But I was the one who actually fell.

I constantly planted about you bad seeds.

I trashed your name whenever I pleased.

The day that you died I truly believed,

You went to hell but I was deceived."

"Now now", he said, "all that is done.

We're united here in God's Kingdom as one.

Brother to Brother we stand undiminished

Our sins were destroyed by His words 'IT IS FINISHED!'

The Blood of Jesus covered it all.

What matters most is we BOTH heard His call."

I felt God's Spirit within me stir

And bowed to say, "Your servant, Sir."

"Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant,  and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." 

(Matthew 20:26-28)

"Jesus said, 'It is finished,' With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit"

(John 19:30l

Dirt Breathes (poem)

 

 

The Creation of Adam (painted on the Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel)

Recently I've been openly criticizing Michelangelo's depiction of the Creation of Adam as being "creepy and unBiblical" and for Michelangelo being so arrogant that he would even attempt to paint the face of God Almighty. 😔

So now I am going to battle Michelangelo head on within the Artistic Arena with only my tiny fingers and my lowly paintbox of words.

REMEMBER, all poetry should be read OUT LOUD and if you wish to write my poem on your ceiling, be my guest.💁‍♀️

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

Dirt Breathes

  (by Laura-Lee Rahn)

The heavens and earth from the void was freed

Given Life, to Life the Universe cleaved

"Emmanuel" Creation well believed

God's glory for a moment was sheathed

He stooped to ground and dirt He heaved

Weeping tears of joy for what He had conceived

Then tears of pain for Future-Man perceived

The God-Head in UNITY grieved.

     (Selah)

Drenched with tears that dry pile relieved

In Heaven a sacred Covenant decreed

The tender clay God’s breath received

The Creator's Masterpiece finally achieved 

    (Selah)

"All Behold the Day that Adam breathed!"

🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱

"O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens.

When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;

 What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?

For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour."

(Psalm 8:1,3-5)

Corridors of Light (poem)

 

This world holds shaded shadows 

of what we can see in Corridors of Light

When looking past our jaded tomorrows 

and DUMP ! this Endless Night. 

And all our faded sorrows

 with echoes of torments and blight

 DIE ! at the foot of the cross

 where my Jesus won the fight!

by Laura-Lee Rahn 

Alberta Canada 

The Truth with Love, 

 Always Laura-Lee ✝️🇨🇦

For you brave souls ...

LINK to more of my poems at my All Poetry "Laura-Lee Was Here" profile

Olive Tree Views (poem)

 

See these hands, Jesus, I only have two
But my heart in my chest beats for you.
Though I'm tiny and small, the least amongst all,
I long to be yours and stay true.

But I'm so prone to fall, when I want to stand tall
and need mercy to get me through.
Bless the LORD, O my Soul, He is well in control
and his tomb an eye-dazzling hue.

I look Forward each day, assured You are the Way
Truth and Life You alone glue
Soon Your feet will touch down, on that Blood Sained Ground
with a Mighty Olive Tree View.

by Laura-Lee Rahn 

Alberta Canada 

The Truth with Love,

Always Laura-Lee ✝️🇨🇦

LINK to more of my poems at my All Poetry "Laura-Lee was Here" profile

What Might Have Been (Poem)

 

 

What Might Have Been

(by Laura-Lee Rahn)

We Bicker and fight each to save face.

 Debating in order to win.

 But by the light of his glorious grace,

 The things of this world grow dim.

But hold me close in your warm embrace.

And remember me as your friend.

Kiss me once that I might taste,

The way things might have been.

"Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in his wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of his glory and grace" ~ Helen H. Lemmel

Edmonton, Alberta Canada 

October 21, 2023

Guest Contributor: Patty Taggart

 

I discovered Patty when we became facebook friends. She drew me in to begin with by her daily posts that were funny, clever and Biblical.

Then I started reading her longer posts which dealt with specific topics which she gleaned from events in the Scriptures. She seemed to always be able to bring out the essence of what the story was trying to tell us and then leave us with something to think about at the end.

It has been some time since I've been able to post here since I have four other blogs, but I have had a few, select "Guest Contributors" featured here in the past.

I reached out to Patty and she graciously agreed to help me by allowing me to publish her writings here.

So, without further preamble, I will let Patty introduce herself to you in her own way and words.

"Hello,

My name is Patty Taggart. I am the founder and teacher of  Walking with Jesus Facebook group. I love the Lord. I love learning about and sharing His Word. I consider myself a child of God, and a Believer. I don't identify with any particular religion, I believe in love, forgiveness, and mercy. Jesus loved all people, not just a select few. " You are never too far gone or too sinful for Jesus." That is the message that I try to convey. 

I was broken, unloved, full of shame and guilt. I didn't trust anyone, not even myself. At the time, I believed in God, but did not have a personal relationship with Him. All of that was about to change. 4 years ago this month, my oldest son died in a car crash. Needless to say, I was devastated. I was so broken hearted, so lost, so broken. 

The day of the viewing, I was the first one to have a private viewing. I remember looking down the room to the open casket and being frozen in place. My feet would not move.

 Then something happened to me that I will never forget as long as I breath. My feet started moving and when I reached the casket and stopped and looked down upon my son, Jesus wrapped His arms around me and held me as I cried. Then He gave me a vision of my son, in his heavenly home. Jesus chose me at that moment. And I became His. And He became mine. We have an agape kind of love. My only prayer is that all His children can share that kind of love with Him."

The Sins of our Fathers.

Exodus 34:7

"who keeps loving kindness for thousands, who forgives iniquity, transgression and sin; yet He will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations.”

Isaiah 14:21

“Prepare for his sons a place of slaughter

Because of the iniquity of their fathers.

They must not arise and take possession of the earth

And fill the face of the world with cities.”

Lamentations 5:7

"Our fathers sinned, and are no more;

It is we who have borne their iniquities."

There are consequences for all of our sins. But have you ever stopped to consider to whom these consequences may fall upon? A good example of the sins of our fathers, lies with King David. David commits adultery with Bathsheba and then puts her husband on the front lines when David finds out that she is pregnant, hoping that he will die. And he does, so not only is he guilty of adultery but also murder.

 And so God sends Nathan to David and he tells David this story about a rich man that took from a poor man and David's anger was great and says that the man should should restore what he took fourfold and that he should surely die. Nathan tells David "you are this man."

10 Now therefore the sword shall never depart from thine house; because thou hast despised me, and hast taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be thy wife.

11 Thus saith the Lord, Behold, I will raise up evil against thee out of thine own house, and I will take thy wives before thine eyes, and give them unto thy neighbour, and he shall lie with thy wives in the sight of this sun.

12 For thou didst it secretly: but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun.

13 And David said unto Nathan, I have sinned against the Lord. And Nathan said unto David, The Lord also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die.

14 Howbeit, because by this deed thou hast given great occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme, the child also that is born unto thee shall surely die."

( 2 Samuel 12:10-14)

So as you can see, God's judgement was on David but also upon his children.  David’s own judgment of a “fourfold” judgment came to fruition: His four sons died terrible deaths because of the result of his sin. Bathsheba’s first son (2 Sam. 12:14-18), Amnon (2 Sam. 13:28-29), Absalom (2 Sam. 18:14), and Adonijah (1 Kings 2:25) all died prematurely because of David’s sin. This promise of the sword never leaving Davids house came to pass.

When David fled from his rebellious son, Absalom, he left ten of his concubines behind to keep his house, but when Absalom came to the forsaken, royal court he followed the counsel of Ahithophel to rape these women, who were unable to resist or flee. In a tent on the top of the house, and in sight of all Israel, Absalom satisfied his lustful revenge on the ten helpless women.

 The prophet Nathan had foretold that the nature of David’s punishment would correspond to the character of his secret crime in his adulterous act with Bathsheba, and in the planned murder of her husband Uriah.

And last, but certainly not the least, the child that was conceived out of adultery.

14 Howbeit, because by this deed thou hast given great occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme, the child also that is born unto thee shall surely die.

15 And Nathan departed unto his house. And the Lord struck the child that Uriah's wife bare unto David, and it was very sick.

16 David therefore besought God for the child; and David fasted, and went in, and lay all night upon the earth.

17 And the elders of his house arose, and went to him, to raise him up from the earth: but he would not, neither did he eat bread with them.

18 And it came to pass on the seventh day, that the child died. And the servants of David feared to tell him that the child was dead: for they said, Behold, while the child was yet alive, we spake unto him, and he would not hearken unto our voice: how will he then vex himself, if we tell him that the child is dead?

(2 Samuel 12:14-18)

All the nations knew that David was protected and lead by the Lord. So the Lord had to have severe consequences so that they could not say that the God of David let him commit adultery and murder. 

 As believers, we know that there are consequences for our sins. But we have to ask ourselves, "how many of our sins, will our children or grandchildren have to pay for?".

~~ by Patty Taggart 

If you wish to read more from Patty come back, because we will be featuring her again in the near future.

Also, you can connect with her at her Facebook page where she keeps all of us well encouraged with her daily posts.

Thank you Patty for sharing with us.

Sincerely, Laura-Lee

Patty Taggart on Facebook

LINK "Walking with Jesus" at Facebook

The Cauldron

INTRODUCTION:

I entered another writing competition with this story. The topic was simply, "How did you become a writer?"
But this one was different because I dipped deep into my personal life to write probably the most revealing story I have ever done. It involves my best friend and mother, Irene, who died in 2013. But just like finding the courage to face my past and write it, I have found the courage to share it.
LLR

THE CAULDRON

(AKA. How Laura-Lee Became a Writer)

“Laura-Lee! Why did you throw your crayon?”

Mom’s raised voice was unusual, but understandable considering my behavior. As I sat at the kitchen table in our lovely home in the “suburbs” of this tiny Canadian town of fewer than 500 people, I was frustrated enough to resort to violence. This was a very strange thing for a normally quiet, scared little girl, who had the ability to make herself invisible at will, to do.

I was only five years old, but I knew very well that this type of action would not be tolerated by my kind mother who possessed an absolute conviction of what was right and wrong. As I mumbled a meek, “I’m sorry, Mom.” and started to rise from my chair to retrieve the turquoise Crayola crayon I had hurled across the room in my utter frustration as an artist, Mom held up her hand to stop me. She bent down to pick up the projectile that had fallen near her left, blue slipper. After taking a couple of quick steps over to the table, she gently put the crayon next to its mates that were scattered all over the kitchen table, along with various crumpled wads of yellow canary paper interspersed. She gave me a warm smile and returned to continue her work that was never-ending. 

As I picked up a magenta crayon and rested my heavy head on my left hand and stared at another blank piece of paper to torment me, I suddenly looked up when I heard Mom ask,
“Well? Are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what, Mom?” I responded, more than slightly confused.
“Tell me why you threw your crayon across the room.” There was no anger in her voice, only concern. And since there was nothing in my soul that I hid from Mom, I would have loved to answer immediately. The problem was that I didn’t really know the answer. It was unusual for me, to be sure.
But sometimes our mothers know us even better than we know ourselves and she tried to help me with a probing question.
“Do you think it was because you were frustrated?”
Coming from Mom that sounded absolutely correct.
“Yes. That’s it. I was frustrated.” I answered completely satisfied with my own answer. And seeing no need to elaborate, I went back to staring at the paper again, as Mom went back to stirring a pot on the stove. Then a thought struck me.
“Mom? What is ‘frustrated’?” I had no conscious idea what the word meant, but Mom knew everything there was to know about words, in two languages, so if she thought I was frustrated, I assumed she was right. Even if I didn’t actually know what the word meant.

She smiled at me, but didn’t move away from the stove or her task while answering, 
“You know the way you feel right now? Remember it. Because that is the definition of feeling ‘frustrated.’”
Ah. Was there nothing that my mom didn’t know or could explain? She was the reason for my every heartbeat and the center of my small universe.

 She let the feeling of closeness linger just a few moments more and then tapped the spoon she was stirring with on the side of the pot twice and put it down as if to break the spell. She rushed over to the table and started clearing up the strewn artistic supplies as she explained, “But I’m afraid Mommy will have to ask you to move your things  right now because I’ve got lots to do before supper and your Dad is bringing home a Guest.” I was happy to move for her. I would have moved to the moon for her, but even with just the mention of my father, my stomach clenched. If she was my heartbeat, he was my headache.

Mom had placed my box of various sized crayons, collected from before I was even born, and my stack of paper into my tiny arms and had spun me around to face the kitchen door. Then she gave me a slight nudge into the direction of the rumpus room where the majority of my kid activities were lived out. The action left no doubt that she was involved in a major time crunch to get everything done and had to concentrate all her energies on the tasks at hand. 

I started to instinctively walk towards the door according to her bidding, but then stopped myself and spun back around to face her. 
“But what am I supposed to draw?!” I said with the frustrated feelings, which were now identified and defined, rearing again.
“I don’t know.” Mom simply responded. “But you’re a smart girl and I know you’ll figure it out.” She turned as if the case was closed, but was again surprised when I didn’t do my “usual” but instead continued.
“I don’t think I can stand to just look at an empty piece of paper anymore. I can’t draw from nothingness.” I looked directly at Mom to see her nodding and I knew she was also deep in thought. I thought she would have an answer for me, but instead, I was the one who spoke next, although in a tiny voice.
“Maybe if I had a coloring book I wouldn’t get frustrated.” Then I felt a wave of regret wash over me and the need to hang my head and lower my eyes prevailed.

Mom stopped everything she was doing and walked over to one of the kitchen chairs to sit down. Now that she was at my level, she reached out and pulled me close to her and looked deep into my eyes to search for the things she knew I couldn't express out loud. This was not the first time I had made the request for something I desired, but money was always tight with us and trying to just put food on the table every day and keep body and soul together for her family of four took Mom more hours in the day than I ever saw. 

Mom was up and at work before I woke in the morning and still working when I fell asleep at night. The only time I actually saw her asleep was when I raced across the hallway to her bedroom when I needed to be comforted from a nightmare. Even though I knew that money was “tight”, I didn’t fully understand all that it meant. I did know it meant that we couldn’t always have what we wanted exactly when we wanted it. I rarely asked for anything, because I already knew that it would cause Mom pain to know that there was something I wanted but could not have. And as I looked into her tender hazel eyes, I wished I had kept my mouth shut altogether. I wanted to take it back and just leave as she had requested, but it felt so good to be cradled in her arms that I lingered to hear her answer. But it wasn’t what I expected.
“This is important to you?” Was all she asked.
I simply nodded.
“Okay.” she simply responded. Then she hugged me for an eternal minute and released me with a tender slap on the butt and a “Now get out of here and let Mommy do her work."
I left the kitchen not caring a whit whether or not I had a coloring book. My world was complete as long as Mom was there. What did I need for things, when I had her?

Dad came crashing in a couple of hours later with his Guest and three more Guests just like the first. And what was supposed to be supper for five people was now supper for eight. I could tell Mom was surprised, but a second later, not surprised, as I watched her expressions from my vantage point behind the piano where I always hid whenever there were strangers in the house. Mom recovered her demeanor quickly and the supper went well, although a little noisy and scary for the way I liked it. I wasn’t even allowed to sit in my regular place at the table but was exiled to the far reaches at the tip of it. 

When the food was consumed, Dad and the Guests went into the living room to visit while Mom stayed behind to clean up. Being a cute little girl, and made to sit at the supper table with the Guests, I had been noticed. Now that the Guests were filled and happy and looking for some fun, they decided to notice me even more. Sort of like a human toy. Something to amuse yourself with. Dad called me over and I went into the midst of them. There was a lot of teasing and jibes to Dad, but nobody ever talked directly to me. It made me want to disappear inside myself. I was good at being invisible, but not good enough to stand in the middle of a room of boisterous men and do it. But then I heard the voice of rescue.
“Laura-Lee. Say good-night to our Guests. It’s time for your bath.” 
Salvation!

I briefly had to return to the Lion’s Den to kiss Dad good-night. Seeing me do this, the Guests decided they all had to have a “Good-night Kiss” too. I still remember the smell of their sweat, faded aftershave cologne, and my fear mixed together. But once I had “done the rounds” I knew that when I woke up in the morning they would be gone, the day would be new, and my world reset to normal. Just the way I needed it to be.

But as I lay in bed listening to Dad and the Guests and their loud visiting go on into the night, I couldn’t sleep. Not because of the noise. There was often night-time noise in my home and I was accustomed to sleeping through it, but that night I couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t forget about asking for the coloring book. I had an idea. An idea motivated by love. And those are the most intense. They will not go away until they are accomplished.

So I crept out of bed, knowing that I was committing a deed that was not allowed by Mom, and scampered across my bedroom floor to retrieve my paper and box of crayons. But that was the easy part. There was one other item I needed and I would have to sneak past Dad and the Guests and even more impossible, Mom's superhuman radar. She had joined them in the living room in order to be a good Hostess. And there was next to nothing that Mom didn’t see. 

But that night God was on my side, although I didn’t realize it at the time, and with a lot of skill, sneaking, and a few miracles, I retrieved the “Item”. Once within my grasp, I was able to stealthily and gradually make my way back to my bedroom and into my hiding place under my covers. My greatest fear was that the “Item” would be discovered missing before I had completed my task and was able to return it to its proper resting place. But again, the Hand of Providence moved on my behalf, as He does in all labors of love. None of them ever lost.

Morning broke fast and bright and I opened my eyes to a new day. My world was just as it should be. Dad had already left for work and I could smell my breakfast being prepared from where I lay. But as I jumped out of bed, eager to join Mom and my brother at the kitchen table, I remembered that I still needed to return the “Item.” But it posed no problem. I returned the “Item”, grabbed the fruits of my labor and headed for the kitchen, full of the excitement of expectation. My imagination raced as I pictured Mom’s reaction when I gave her the gift I had stayed awake through the night to create.

But when I arrived at my regular and comfortable place at the table, I saw that I was not the only one who had been losing sleep in order to create a gift of love. There at my place at the table was a stack of white papers, which had been bound together with woven pink wool. But the papers weren’t blank. Pictures had been drawn on each side of them. Mom had made me my coloring book. 

I stood stunned by the impact of her love because I understood all that it had meant. That the very few hours a night that she had to sleep before her cycle of endless work and coping resumed had been sacrificed. The details of the drawings were such that I knew it had probably taken most, if not all, of the night to accomplish. 

I truly had no spoken answer. But I did have a physical one as I held out my gift of love to her. She stepped forward to take from me the rather wrinkled piece of yellow paper I was silently holding out to her. I saw her face scan the sheet with all its strange, black markings on it. Her face wore a puzzled look and she scanned my face for an answer. But unable to find it there, she asked, 
“This must have taken you a long time to do?”
“Yes. It did.” I answered excitedly. Finally finding my voice.
But then she hesitantly asked the question she didn’t want to.
“What is it?”

Now, under regular circumstances, that question would have hurt me and she knew it, but maybe it was because there was just so much love flying around that I felt more surprised than anything else. I suddenly raced out of the room. I heard Mom call my name with concern, but I called over my shoulder, 
“I’ll be right back.” And I was. But I didn’t return empty-handed. I had once again retrieved the “Item”. I held it out to her and said, 
“It’s this!”
A knowing look washed over her face and then a look of complete, ... I don’t know what. But I do know I was suddenly scooped up into her arms and tears were flowing down her cheeks as my brother looked on, wondering what the two of us were doing. 

It was a moment that forever changed my life and once again cemented and sealed the love between my mother and me. The infinite depths of that bottomless ocean of love that we dove into time and time again throughout our forty-seven years together. And even though it would be another year before I understood the black markings I had drawn on my paper, it also sealed me as a writer. Because the “Item” was a book. One of the many, many books I would see my mother read throughout her lifetime. I knew how much she loved them. I would spend literally hours watching her eyes dance across the pages of a book and wonder what wonderful things they were saying to her. And when I wanted to do something special for her, the first thing I thought of was a book.

That day, forty-nine years ago, a writer was born. Birthed from the cauldron of love and sacrifice. And things born of love never end. The piece of paper I gave Mom is long gone. So is the coloring book she made for me. But almost five decades later, I have placed them anew into your minds by writing about them. Passing on a legacy of memory and love through the words I write. A wonder. A miracle. A gift of love. A gift from God. Use it wisely and always lovingly. 

"Remember the former things long past,
         For I am God, and there is no other;
         I am God, and there is no one like Me,
Declaring the end from the beginning,
         And from ancient times things which have not been done,
         Saying, ‘My purpose will be established,
         And I will accomplish all My good pleasure’!"

   Isaiah 46:9-10


By Laura-Lee Rahn 

Mom

Laura-Lee Was Here (Personal blog)

I entered this story at a competition at the Christian writing (Goodreads) Group, Adventure in Writing. If you enjoy writing, please join us. LL

Adventure in Writing (Goodreads Group)

The Rope

This was my entry in a Writing Competition at the Goodreads group, RUBICAL. It really is a lot of fun. You are given a prompt and the parameters and then off you go. It's a great place to hone your writing skills and have some fun at the same time. I've been writing for almost 45 years and I've gotten much better from my time there. I've had to stretch my creative abilities and let my imagination roam. And it ended up soaring instead. 

Yes. I am unabashedly trying to talk you into going there. From people my age (53 48) to 11 years old, it's for everyone. It's mostly Christians, but not exclusively. It just means that we keep it clean. But besides that ... 

We always want new members and our moderator is so wonderful. A safe, encouraging place to write. LLR

Here are the Rules and Prompt for the story that I entered. And won! (Please read the prompt, otherwise the following story will make no sense.)

What Did They Say Competition #1! This was something new on the top of my head that I thought we could try! I hope it all makes sense. Enjoy! Perhaps next time it won't be as dark. :P

Don't turn this into a story; please only a few sentences in response or unfortunately it won't count.

You must reply to the prompt in a realistic way--nothing totally random that has nothing to do with the prompt. It needs to be a dialogue response!

© There will be no stealing of anyone's stories/work. We should all be mature enough to respect that if we are entering a contest. ©

Here is your prompt:

The man stepped towards me, old aging face decorated with sad lines. His clothes drooped just like his back as he stared sadly towards us.

"The problem is, child," he began, even though I was in my twenties and not at all a child anymore. "people take things for granted. Especially the earth we live on. But...then come along evil creatures, creatures who say they are human, and perhaps they are, but no longer act like the man walking down the street or the woman reading at the library." He shifted uncomfortably. "When these people come, they'll take you away. You won't be able to stop them. The earth won't be like you thought. In fact, it's not at all like anyone thinks."

I didn't understand his words. Nothing was making sense. I had just run about three miles to escape from the drones, and out of nowhere this man had stopped me, begging me to listen to his story and about how dangerous the earth was. The wars breaking out all over earth were surely trapping us against our wills.

"I've told you enough now, child," the old man sighed. "But most importantly, watch for the mist. The mist will choke you."

I frowned, opening my mouth to ask him a question. I said...

What did the character say to the old man? Feel free to think about whatever may be happening in this scene and supply a question!

The Rope

I frowned, opening my mouth to ask him a question. I said …

“Did you miss medication time at the Funny Farm, Pops?”

“Ah, arrogance. It’s something that I might tolerate, but will certainly not be met with understanding and patience by anyone else. But it is a good way for a young, arrogant fool to get killed.”

“Sorry. Guess I’m just trying to ignore what you said. I’ve known for quite a while now that things are way worse than we believe.
So any advice for a ‘young arrogant fool’?”

“Yes. Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop being a young arrogant fool. It can be accomplished. Especially if you have help.”

“But where on ‘Planet Hate and Chaos’ will I find help, Pops?”

“ A rope made of three strands can’t be easily broken.”

“Hey, I like that, Pops. You certainly have some smarts, even though you’re a physical wreck.”

“I’m not that smart either. I didn’t invent that saying about the rope, but I know it’s true. Are you game, Kiddo? You and me sticking together?”

“I’m with you, Pops. But where do we find the third strand for our rope?

"He's already here, Kiddo. He's already here."

by Laura-Lee Rahn


NOTE: I mentioned that I won this competition but in all honesty, I was the ONLY person who entered. So there definitely is room for you at RUBICAL. (I wonder if there is a HTML code to make this printing even smaller?)


RUBICAL at Goodreads



So many people ask me how I know when God is telling me to do something. On Friday I asked the Lord which story I should post on this blog this weekend. This is the Bible verse in my Our Daily Bread Devotional for that day.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-11
"Two are better than one,
    because they have a good return for their labor:
10 If either of them falls down,
    one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
    and has no one to help them up.
11 Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.

    But how can one keep warm alone?"


Now check out verse 12.

"Though one may be overpowered,
    two can defend themselves.

A cord of three strands is not quickly broken" [Emphasis mine. I love writing that, it makes me feel like a big Bible commentator.]

It's not that hard to hear God. It depends on whether or not you want to hear what He wants to tell you.

"If necessary, God will move heaven and earth to show us His will." Charles Stanley