Self Pep Talk

It is an amazingly liberating feeling to finally grasp the concept of being free in Christ.
Being free not to sin.

It sounds like such a strange idea; sin equating bondage. 
But how many times have you done something you regret, 
and then sat there thinking about it, 
dwelling on it,
rolling it over and over in your mind, 
imagining how you ought to be punished, 
wondering how you will make up for it. 

You are forgiven, and you know it, but you somehow feel that there must be more to it than that. 

That's when you are most in danger of being gradually drawn into habitual sin; 
a vicious cycle of sin, guilt, and self-inflicted retribution. 
You've messed up, fallen down, but instead of getting up, dusting yourself off and carrying on, 
You convince yourself that you need to somehow make up for what you've done before returning to the cross. 

But that's just it, that's what the cross was, is, and ever will be for!
HE paid the price. No retribution (self inflicted or otherwise) will compare to that payment paid on the cross. 
Stop belittling HIS suffering! 
Nothing you could do could save you. And nothing you can do now can pay the price for your sin.
Nothing but the blood!

Sin has consequences, indeed, some harsher than others, but don't sit around waiting for them. Do not allow the rift in your relationship with God caused by your sin to widen due to lack of an ability to understand that even the sin yet to be committed has been paid for. 

Go to your Father in humble repentance, then go and sin no more. 

Be free!

The Man I'm Waiting For

The man I'm waiting for is looking for a woman.

The man I'm waiting for is looking for a woman who understands that submission is not weakness, and true strength is portrayed in a willingness, even eagerness, to humbly obey and serve. That submission is in fact a natural response to the receipt of the sacrificial, Christ to church type love. 

The man I'm waiting for is looking for a woman who is secure in her identity in Christ, so much so that she doesn't waste time arguing about roles, chores, and status. She does all that she does as unto the Lord knowing that Christ's opinion of how her labour is valued is the only one that matters, and her reward will come one day when it truly counts. 

The man I'm waiting for is looking for a woman whose high hopes and expectations are staked on the only one who will never let her down. A woman who knows who will supply all her needs, and from whence cometh her help. 

The man I'm waiting for is looking for a woman who does everything without murmuring and complaining. Who never uses hormones as an excuse to disobey the commandments to be kind, tender hearted and forgiving. 

The man I'm waiting for is looking for a woman who is clothed with good deeds, suitable for a woman who professes to serve Christ. Her modesty is what first caught his eye, and her character is what keeps it. 

The man I'm waiting for is looking for a woman who sees beyond the cliche interpretations of Proverbs 31, to the heart and root of the chapter, realising that only virtuous women make virtuous wives. 

The man I'm waiting for is looking for a woman who's waiting for him. A woman who knows that as she waits for the man of her dreams she should busy herself preparing to be the woman that would complement such a man; redeeming her time in the season that she is in. 

The man I'm waiting for is looking for a woman who prays without ceasing; having experienced the truth that the prayers of the righteous avails much. 

Lord, help me be the woman that the man I'm waiting for is looking for! 

A Lesson in Trust

You stand there on unstable footing, head tilted back in defiance of doubt, eyes locked onto the intended target, and arms outstretched in abandon of reason. 

You stand there staking all on the assumption that your request, will not go unanswered. Your collateral is the times before that you were not left wanting. Already you seem to have forgotten the times you cried in frustration and confusion as to why your outstretched arms did not yield immediate escape from your unpleasant, uncomfortable circumstance. Or perhaps you can somehow sense that when your call to be lifted goes unnoticed, it is for your own good. 

You stand there; your default assumption that your cries do not go unheard and will result in the fulfillment of all your needs. To assume anything else is to imply failure of your supplier, and for you, that is not an option, that is unfathomable. Yet the one in whom you trust so totally is I.  I who suffered no pain in your creation, I who go home at the end of the day and miss the midnight pangs and tears. 

Still I think of how my heart leaps with joy when I see your little arms reaching up to me, needing me. I think of how privileged I feel that you call out to me, knowing that I will not ignore you, that I in fact can not turn a blind eye nor a deaf ear. I think of how much I love you... then, then I think of a much deeper love. A love greater than which is not to be found among man. A love that is only imperfectly mirrored in my constant answer to your cries and your unwavering belief that they will be answered. 

You stand there in innocence teaching me through your wise example the relationship of trust that I ought to have with my Father. Reminding me of He who more than me can supply all needs. He who promises to keep in perfect peace the child who keeps a steadfast mind and trusts in Him. You unknowingly live out a perfect example of the trust I should adopt. A trust strengthened by memories of the times before when He met my outstretched arms with His warm embrace. A trust nurtured by the realisation that the times when I was left to cry for some time, resulted in a stronger, more patient me. 

My dear child, you teach me the true meaning of The Stand; to stand arms high and heart abandoned in awe of the One who gave it all. To stand my soul surrendered to the One in whom I find my identity. 

Father, All I am is Yours. 

Why I Can't Complain

So, I'm sitting in my garden outside my locked house for which I don't have the key, and I'm thinking, there are just so many reasons that I can't complain about this unfortunate situation. 

The most obvious reason is of course that it's my own fault for leaving the keys inside... but there are far more reasons that require further analysis and some insight into the details of the situation.

I've got time, so allow me to spend it counting my blessings...

First of all, this whole mess occurred due to the fact that I failed to transfer my keys (along with everything else I needed) from one handbag to the next. This sheds light on the fact that I own more than one handbag... I have quite a few actually, to match the large collection of shoes I've amassed, not to mention that I actually have a house to be locked out of. 

But yes, let's move on from the more basic blessings that we all allow ourselves to take for granted in such situations. 

I wouldn't dare complain about the fact that my keys were the only necessary item that remained locked inside the house. Had I also left my wallet, my phone or the documents I needed for the appointment that I managed to make, I would have been in a far worse situation. 

I could complain, however, that God didn't answer my pleading prayers that the door would miraculously open, that the keys would mysteriously surface in my bag or even that I would have absentmindedly forgotten to lock the back door before I absentmindedly locked the front door with my keys still inside. I even mentioned to Him that, being the considerate pray-er that I am, I was willing to settle for an unlocked window... I did everything short of promising to fast and pray for a few weeks afterwards in thanksgiving (although I thought about it so maybe that counts as a prayer?)... 

But He did answer my prayers, just not how I'd specified... He chose to answer my prayer differently, simultaneously answering an earlier request that He provide me with some fresh blogging material, and the time to devote to it.

How'd he answer my prayer you ask? Finally, something to complain about, in about 2 hours, I have to walk a mile to collect a spare key from my landlord, walk back home to unlock the door and collect my key, walk back to return the key and finally return home for the evening... (yea He chose to also answer my prayer for motivation and opportunity to increase my exercise, talk about killing 3 birds with 1 stone). Of course that complaint is synonymous with complaining that I serve a wise, hearing God with a sense of humour, have a kind landlord, and have 2 well functioning legs.... So basically, I guess I can't complain. 

Night Out

Its Saturday night and my crocks and untamed afro stand in marked contrast to the heels and hairdos adorned by those surrounding this high street bus stop.
My mind flashes back to a similar scene of a girl in a black dress and red heels just the night before.

I suddenly recall noticing the sympathy she exuded observing those who chose to respond to the music's insistence that he no want no boring whine. I see her wondering under whose authority the revellers were claiming to be blessed, and in whom and to whom they were promising to hope and pray.

She watched silently as individuals willingly obedient to the influence of the drink she had only earlier consumed migraine skanked, dropped down low, and whined 'pon a profane word like a bicycle. 

She reminisced being struck with the realisation that she had paid money to enter a dark, hot, room where smelly smoke was pumped into your face, the music constantly degraded you to an object to be ogled, bent over and rubbed up against, and the company was less than desirable. She had paid to be subjected to unwanted attention, advances, and physical contact. 

I snapped back to the present and looked around at those at that bus stop wondering how many would end the night in bed with tomorrow's regrets waiting to hit them over the head and subject them to a slow, painful recollection of the nights activities, this time without the support of a liquid mood enhancer. 

I looked around and thanked God that the girl in the black dress and red heels, despite ignoring the nagging feeling that she was in a place she didn't belong; had, had a night she'd never forget, rather than one she couldn't remember. 

Dress - £12, Shoes - £20, Clutch - £8, Makeup - £15, Hair products - £10, Preparation time - 4 hours, Mood enhancer necessary to ensure a good time is had - £20, Taxi - £10, Entrance - £5, Mood re-enhancer - £10, The realisation that I agree to spend a small fortune every other weekend in order to conform to society's definition of what's fun, priceless...

Have You Considered My Servant Job?

One of my favorite Bible stories of all times is the story of Job. Actually, lately, I've been going through a season in my life where I feel God is revealing to me more and more of His character, of who He is, through Sunday morning messages, passages read for morning devotions, Bible studies (no I'm not just tryna say I'm a busy Christian lol), I've been standing in front of a mirror, praying that He show me what I fail to see, and He's just upstaged me completely. Haven't quite worked out what it's all about yet, but I am exploring it with a fervent hunger. 

But yes, back to Job. His story gets me every time. But you know, it's not the fact that he lost everything and didn't blame God, it's not the getting it all back, it's not the wise responses he afforded his foolish friends, it's the part when God speaks that gives me goosebumps. 

Let me lay it out how I see it. So you have this guy Job, he is as perfect as a human can be (other than Jesus). This guy is so good, that if he hears that his children are throwing a party, he offers sacrifices for them afterwards, in case they have sinned and need redemption. Job used to stand by the road miles from his house and insist that travelers stop by his house to rest. More than that, he didn't even boast about it, if he had, then his friends who came to council him later on would have known all this and had less "ammunition" with which to judge him. He got someone's attention though, I mean by God's own testimony the man was "blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil." (Job 1:8) (wouldn't I love to be described like that by God... wow)

So yea, the devil is like, yea, yea of course he's perfect it's cus his life is so comfortable. So God gives him freedom to make it uncomfortable. Long story shortened, Job loses everything except his life, then has to defend his honour to friends who are convinced that he's suffering due to un-confessed sin (where have I heard that before... *rolls eyes*).

Right, so I'm following all this right, and I am just so impatient for God to jump in and be like "Oi! This is my blameless and upright son you are talking about, leave him alone." I mean imagine yea, the book of Job has 42 chapters. The whole thing about Job's life, how good he was, how he lost everything, is summed up in chapter 1 and the first half of chapter 2. By chapter 2 verse 11, Job's friends have already showed up. and they talk straight through to chapter 37!! By this time, I am heated, and I mean, I know how the story ends, I can't begin to imagine what it's been like for Job. I'm just itching for him to be put out of his misery.

So finally, chapter 38, the Lord speaks out of a storm, and what does he say?

"Who is this that darkens my counsel 

with words without knowledge?

 Brace yourself like a man; 

I will question you, 

and you shall answer me."

Not bad right, except, He's talking to Job!!! Now, I'm sorry, I am not a Bible scholar, so maybe I missed something, but I have been over the preceding 37 chapters again and again, I have read various commentaries and I fail to see what Job did to warrant the 4 chapters of God's answer, when his 3 friends get 4 verses! 

But that's just it, that's why I love the book of Job so much. I mean Where was I when God laid the earth's foundation? Do I know when the mountain goats give birth? Where does darkness reside? I don't even know how to put into words what goes through me when I read those 4 chapters of God's questions. It is a mixture of awe and confusion and reverence and fear... it's a glimpse into the actions of a being who "will have mercy on whom He will have mercy, and will have compassion on whom He will have compassion." It is a reminder that not even a blameless and upright man can contend with the Almighty. 

So what's my point? The next time you're having a bad day, you know the kind [see: previous post], and your mind is telling you that you did nothing to deserve it, just listen out for that still, small voice whispering, "Have you considered my servant Job?". I end with the following verses that send shivers down my spine each time I read them. 

"Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you will answer me. 

Would you discredit MY justice? Would you condemn ME to justify yourself?

Do you have an arm like God's, and can your voice thunder like HIS?

Then adorn yourself with glory and splendor, and clothe yourself in honor and majesty.

Unleash the fury of your wrath, look at every proud man and bring him low, 

look at every proud man and humble him, crush the wicked where they stand.

Bury them all in the dust together; shroud their faces in the grave.

Then I myself will admit to you that your own right hand can save you."

Hypothesis Testing

Jesus - Matthew 10:22: 'People will hate you if you start talking about me and what I teach.'

@Creationtips: "Some people will tolerate anything except Christians who believe the Bible." 

Let's test this hypothesis shall we:


Do you know that I'm a Christian?

Of course, you go to church, and sing and stuff, but it's not like you're one of those bib...

Bible Bashers? Hmmmm ok, Did you know that I believe that God created the world in six days? That Jesus Christ was the son of God sent to Earth to die for man's sin and offer us the free gift of salvation? That the Bible is God's Word?

Lol, Joy-Ann, seriously....

Right, ok, seriously? More practical? Did you know that I believe that swearing, gossiping, and sex before marriage just like lying, stealing, and murder is a sin?

Huh? But you've... But Ro... 

I said I was a Christian, not perfect. In fact I believe that everyone sins, and therefore fails to earn God's grace (Rom 3:23). 

Ok... but it's not like you're saying things like...

Did you know that I believe that homosexuality is a sin? Did you know I was pro-life?

Whoa! Hold on a minute...

Yup, here we go, did you know that I believe that the only way to get to heaven is through the acceptance of Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Saviour?

Who are you to judge? I'm going to be very honest, I'm not sure we can be  friends, you're starting to sound very intolerant and close minded....

I had a feeling you might say something like that. That null hypothesis is looking more and more verifiable... Now let's test yours? I'm prepared to lose reputation, job opportunities, status, friends, and yes, if it came to it, my life, for His sake (Matt 10:22).
But before we agree to disagree on the rejection of H1 versus H2, before you hit that unfriend button, please consider this; I have always held these beliefs. Yea, its true! The same way that I've always (well since I met you) known what you believe. You know what I mean, that Christians are narrow minded, judgmental, damnation preaching, Bible bashing hypocrites who were gullible enough to be taken in by bad people using religion as a tool of oppression and control (or some variation or the other). My beliefs have not changed, the only difference is, now you know for sure. What you do with this new knowledge is up to you. I'm still me.

A Stranger on Memory Lane

It’s a frightening moment when you recognise the part you played in the failure of something. A relationship, a business plan, a group, a band, a church; the particulars don’t matter.

The realisation tends to hit you in hindsight of the event. It’s been years, you’ve told the story countless times to many people, and have offered your unbiased opinion about how the end came about. Even you believe the story you tell.

Then one day, out of the blue, something triggers a memory. Often, the memory is about the good times, you know, before things went bad, before it all fell apart. And you casually take a stroll down memory lane, oblivious to the changing of the lights, the little red man that is desperately trying to warn you that it is NOT safe to cross. You’ve duped yourself into believing that you know every bend and dip in the road. You know where it twists, where it turns, and all its visitors. You are convinced you could travel this road blindfolded, and safely arrive at your all too familiar destination; the failure.

BEEEEP BEEEEEEP!! Whew, you’ve narrowly escaped being run over by misremembered (conveniently forgotten) facts. It unnerves you, strangers do not travel this road, this was unexpected, surely it must be a mistake. A wrong turn, a faulty map, the need for directions. You have to investigate. The car has stopped, the driver is still inside. You approach the window to give assurance that you are ok, and offer assistance; directions and a friendly warning that they’re lost. You get there, and YOU are driving…

It’s ok, deep breaths, it was a long time ago, you were younger, you now realise the mistakes you made, it was partly your fault, in ways you hadn’t realised. It’s a tough pill to swallow, you take a moment to process this new information, it gets worse, this older model of you, the one whose existence you have only just come to terms with, turns to you, stares straight into your eyes and asks; “what now?”.

What now indeed. Do I call up the people involved and plead my case? Explain I’ve changed, now see the error of my ways. Have they been enlightened the whole time? Have they moved on? Should I?

I have yet to answer Joy-Ann version 1.0. My inner voice is offering up various courses of action far too quickly, and too loudly to be trusted. It’s drowning out that still, small voice that I should be taking advice from. So I’m going to wait it out. I know from experience that, that still small voice will out last the loud one and offer me a solution that is a part of a grand picture that I can only partly see.

For I know the plans HE has for me, plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me hope and a future. Boy do I trust those plans…

Count Your Blessings...

Today was just one of those days… I’m sure you know the kind… woke up, and just didn’t feel like doing anything.

I didn’t feel like going to work to patiently listen to the incessant whining of the people I have to serve

Wasn’t up for having to deal with the judgemental hypocrites who wouldn’t miss an opportunity to tell me all about how great they are, and how much everyone else pales in comparison

I didn’t feel like providing for people who ask for more before they even think to say thank you for what they already received

Certainly wasn’t in the mood to have to listen to repeat offenders beg for forgiveness when I already knew they’d do it all again

Didn’t feel like listening to the fools who constantly misrepresent my brand and fuel the fire of the haters.. ugh, just thinking about it fills me with dread.

But yea, that’s my routine on a slow day… but before you get on my case for complaining, before you insist that you have it worst, before we compare complaints, hear me out, there’s more…

I couldn’t be bothered to hold the Earth in its orbit…

Didn’t feel like maintaining the atmosphere, especially when some are so set on thinning it…

Wasn’t in the mood to maintain balance in the population, to protect soldiers away in wars I never sent them to fight, to resolve problems that were created by the people stuck in them, to watch over people who not only deny my existence but spit in my face regularly…

I just didn’t feel like it…

Lucky thing I don’t act based on my feelings.

Faith

So, faith is the substance of things hoped for…

Well, I need me some of that right now cause boy am I low on substance and full of hopes…

Sometimes my thoughts form words that spill out as text on a page…

Other times they form road blocks obstructing my mind’s ability to move forward…

The evidence of things not seen… Words unwritten, thoughts incomplete, prayers unanswered but not unheard?

Today it’s hard to read those words and believe that such substance and evidence could exist.

Today it’s difficult to believe in a phenomenon that can not be substantiated by physical, empirical, statistic evidence.

Today I’m finding it hard to stare at nothing and believe.

But, my deficiency in said substance is not evidence of its absence, for the truth is the truth although I choose not to believe and nothing ceases to exist because I lack it.

So, today although I find it hard, I claim that the substance of things hoped for and evidence of things unseen is reason enough for me to stare need in the face, and yet sleep well and have sweet dreams.

Good Night.

Thanks for the Reminder

Tonight I was transported back to that time when words and not music were used to express how much YOU mean to me. I had to go back. Back to the basics. Back to the beginning. Back to the familiar.

It took sitting in a room that clearly defined its purpose, on a pew that could make your bum numb after 20 mins, in a room full of people whose ages averaged a number more than twice my own, singing songs in a key that reached heaven before my praises, accompanied by an instrument that could add 10 years to any song for me to be reminded what praise and worship is all about.

When the music fades, and all is stripped away, and I simply come… Tonight I experienced this first hand. All else was stripped away. All else faded. The music was inconsequential. When I closed my eyes I was carried into YOUR presence by the words I declared rather than the moving melody. I got the melody wrong so many times, and yet it was just right, it was a perfect sacrifice, a sweet smelling savour, pleasing to YOU. Such a difference to a similar “ritual” performed earlier that morning. When I chose the songs, when I “ushered YOUR presence in” when I, that’s just it, when I! No, this time it was YOU.

I’m coming back to the heart of worship, where it’s all about YOU.Tonight, it was all about YOU. Tonight I was reminded that my prayer is worship. That my thoughts are worship, reading YOUR word is worship. And as I worshiped YOU throughout the service, I was struck with the stark contrast of other times when my worship ended with the song. When just as I had ushered in the Spirit, I ushered Him out.

Thank YOU for the reminder. Thank YOU for using YOUR servants to bring me back to the place that I ought to be. Let me not forget. Let me not go back. Ever on, ever forward, ever closer to where I ought to be.

why I smile?

why i smile?

sometimes the confusion inside is so overwhelming it threatens to implode littering my mind with a scatter of debris that will stick and clutter and disable my ability to function with clarity…so i smile

sometimes the pain is so intense that my tears feel like acid droplets tearing through the ducts that so desperately try to dam them in blinding the eyes that flutter in attempt to stop them shedding…so i smile

sometimes the sense of loss feels so real its almost tangible yet just out of reach so as to isolate me to the point that even loneliness eludes me…so i smile

but

sometimes sheer happiness erupts into a raucous laughter that lingers long enough to remain frozen on my face in that familiar form of…a smile

sometimes the memory of a time past shared with another person or group flashes before me causing that wistful look of reminisce expressed best in…a smile

sometimes a song a word a thought a sound is experienced or shared and a feeling of hope creeps up from the depths of my soul lifts my spirits and expresses itself through my body as…a smile

how can this be. smiling a response to such conflicting circumstances. to smile at both life and death must surely only exude some form of mental instability.

but

the source of my smile… not a lack of trial or hardship. not the absence of pain and loss. not emotions like happiness, pride or awe. no. JOY. not to be confused for happiness this is the joy of the LORD and this joy of the LORD is my strength. HIS joy expressed in my smile confuses the enemy who sees the hurt and the pain and the trial and the loss that i face. who sends the confusion and the tears. but as yesterday, today and forever HE who has availed to me that joy remains unchanged, so will my response to whatever circumstance i find myself faced with. i will smile.

Sometimes...

Sometimes, I have those days when I feel I could just live an average life… go back home, get a job with a decent salary, a house, a car and just live… maybe even make the odd donation to a charity… volunteer my time to a cause that sounds good… be a good citizen…

then Sometimes there are days when I feel like mere existence would equate a slow death of who I am inside…

Sometimes I feel like I am destined to do something great… destined to leave my mark on this Earth… even if its just to provide a drop of water to the vast desert of human problems…

I just can’t help but feel like I want to know that someone out there can say “my life is better for having met Joy-Ann van Arneman”… sometimes anyway…

Sometimes I need to remind myself that I was not born with intrinsic superhero qualities… but HE who is my superhero… HE who began a great work in me… HE can make my life matter…

Sometimes I forget… lucky for me… He doesn’t.

I Tore You Up and Threw You Away

Write it down,
Pray about it,
Give it to Him,
Rip it up
Bin it
Receive His peaceSo I did

I wrote you down
All five of your pestering members
I formed your being on the paper with my pen
I wrote you into existence
Removed you from the refuge you had taken in my heart and mind
Deposited you on the paper in front of me
Careful to hide you from inquisitive eyes
Careful to protect those I love from your longing glancesYou continue to call to me like the woman in Proverbs

Tempting me with talk of spiced sheets and intoxicating loveBut through squinted eyes

Squinted to block out the glare of your appeal
I put you down on that paper
I tore you up
Dismembered
Bit by bit
Tiny as I could afford to goStill you tried to cry out

To escape your impending doom
Your dark grave beckoned
I prayed as I ripped
Tore
Demolished
I threw you away
Physically
Symbolically
I am released
I receive His peace
Goodbye
worry

I Miss You

I miss you
You slipped out
I was preoccupied with my notions that we were alright I wasn’t paying attention

I took you,
I took us for granted and now I
miss you

I can’t tell you
You don’t know You don’t understand I can’t explain you don’t even realise you’re gone but,

I lost you
I figure there may be a chance if I speak your language you know that language of flow and rhyme and verse but words escape me this time as I fail to adequately explain that I
miss you

I’m impatient for the time when you return, when you’re here and I don’t have to cry these tears or speak these sad words or think these sad thoughts because I won’t
miss you

It’s been a while

It’s been a while

I’ve been away

Ushered out with a lingering sunny kiss, An attempt to make me regret leaving.

Welcomed elsewhere with a sunny smile that held true warmth I’d almost forgotten

Entertained with hot bursts of sunshine, and bouts of grey to remind me what I had left behind

Still, I left

And returned to the familiar

Ushered in with torrential sobs, icy cold breaths yet a knowing embrace

Its been a while, I’ve been away.

Good Day for Blogging

Today is a good day for blogging… my fingertips are itching for an opportunity to pour out words to the beat of the heart that pumps the blood that allows them to do so.

No theme or topic comes to mind … the communication channel is unilateral… my fingers can not tell my heart to tell my brain that they need a subject to quench their thirst for typing… so my brain ignorantly instructs my heart to pump on an endless supply of blood to the fingers who *tap *tap *tap away an endless stream of nothingness.

So why then is it a good day for blogging? Only when the fingers take control can you truly peer into the soul of the writer… unhindered by thoughts or subjects… simply performing a dance on a black keyboard with white letters … somehow manifesting black words onto a white page on a blue screen…

Ahhhh, release… today was a good day for blogging…

Why I Blog…

Right, so basically, I created this blog so I could follow my friend’s blog. I do not consider myself a “blogger”… But I guess in the pure definition of the word, someone who blogs, then I am a blogger.

I never understood the attraction of sharing your thoughts with both no one in particular and everyone out there … but even as I sit here typing, I feel a bit exhilarated, like, I have thoughts, I have words, and I can put them down and someone may read them … lol

So what kind of blog will this be? Who knows?!? I guess from time to time I will sit here and allow the letters to flow from my finger tips forming into words that run together to flow into sentences which linked yet separated by punctuation becomes a paragraph and thus is established as a shared thought.

On those rare occasions when I feel poetic and my thoughts prefer to be expressed in verse over prose I may post a poem. But don’t hold your breath.

Lol… “your” who are “you”? I can only wonder…