Aug 25, 2011
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
I finished reading the Book of Exodus today. I lost count of how many times I read the phrase, “it was done just as the LORD commanded Moses”, or a close semblance.
What really stood out to me was that the LORD ordered Moses to lead the people, to construct the Tabernacle, and to even decorate the Priest’s outfits with filigree surrounding the engraved stones. God commanded Moses and the people to add filigrees, not just hooks. Hooks and clasps would have fastened the ephod to the breastplate to the shoulders just fine. But God wanted more. He wanted not just functionality and purpose; but beauty.
I got to thinking about what it could mean… Our God doesn’t need us for anything. He can do all things Himself. He began all things. He doesn’t need us for anything.
But He wants us.
I was hit with a picture of God being a Master Chef. There He is in the kitchen, preparing a most wonderful feast. Now, the feast itself is nourishing, it sustains us the way food is supposed to. But He adds little touches. He bakes a cake, and then He decorates it. Does He need to? No. He doesn’t need to decorate the cake. He didn’t even have to make it! But there He is, taking His time, scrolling delicate designs all over it. Why? Does it make the cake taste better? Of course not. Does it add nutritional value? Not unless it’s purely organic frosting spiced with extra minerals. No. God decorates His cake because He wants to.
Now picture this: the cake is the world. And we are the filigree frosting. We are the icing on the Cake. God didn’t create us because He had to. He created us because He wanted to. Because He wants to enjoy us. Because we add that little extra touch to this world.
He doesn’t leave a void. Every filigree is placed by His hand. Every inch of icing is part of His plan. And He doesn’t let someone else come by and drag their finger through the icing just to smear it. If someone comes along to mess things up, God’s right there in the kitchen, ready to fix whatever “mistakes” may happen. Sometimes He makes it better than the original. But He never, ever just lets them go. Sometimes it feels like it. Sometimes it feels like we’re either on display for the whole world to stare at, or worse, invisible. But that’s not the case. God knows right where you belong. He curved you, He colored you, He designed you, He set you in place.
Because He thinks you’re deliciously beautiful. And He wants to share you with the World.
Chew on that.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Aug 23, 2011
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
I just finished three days on Faith, Hope, and Love.
My journal seems disjointed to me, and although I tried to bring them together, I almost feel the need to apologize for my lack of clarity.
But isn’t that what faith, hope, and love are? In the midst of chaos, disappointment, all the stressors of life, isn’t it a quantity of Faith, Hope, and Love that keeps us ticking?
No matter what life throws my way, no matter who comes and goes, and what capacity they serve while we’re together, Faith, Hope, and Love always stay.
Dont’ be shy. We’re in this world together. Let’s love it, ourselves, and each other.
***** ***** *****
“Because We Are Friends”
[March 6, 2009, re-edit August 22, 2011]
If you wanted coffee, I’d already know how you take it.
If I had an ice cream sundae, I’d let you eat the cherry.
If you wanted to whisper, I’d silence the world.
If I needed to shout, you’d be my bullhorn.
If you wanted the beach, I’d build you a sand castle.
If we enjoyed a trail, you’d be the falling leaves.
If you watched tv with me, I’d let you control the remote.
If you sang on Broadway, I’d be your marquee.
If you needed a babysitter, I’d find one so we can both go out.
If I wanted to stay in, I’d let you come over before I cleaned.
If you won a prize, I’d be your pedestal.
If I failed at anything, you’d pull me back up.
If you had a great day, I’d hold your hand high.
If I had a bad day, you’d hug me tight.
If you were a book, I’d read the complete series.
If I were binary, you’d be my numbers.
If you were a pen, I’d refill your ink.
If I were a page, I’d let you write in my margins.
If you needed anything, I’d find a way.
If I won the lottery, I’d let you share my winnings.
If you had a tragedy, I’d be your comic relief.
If I were hyperventilating, you’d be my sedative.
If you needed a friend in the middle of the night, I’d stay until next week.
If I missed you like no tomorrow, I’d still let you go.
Because we are friends.
And I trust you that much.
And love you even more.
:-)
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Aug 19, 2011 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
This is my response to a Writing Prompt from Writer’s Digest Community last year.
GONE SWIMMING: You and a friend break into your neighborhood swim club late one night to go for an after-hours dip. While splashing around in the pool, you go into shock when a dead body floats to the top. Worse yet – it’s someone you know.
It was perfect. I laughed a conquering laugh, having made it to the other side of the fence without getting caught. My limbs showed the light scratches of the chain-link we just scaled, landing on the damp cement with the quiet of a cat burglar. Joanie called me to wait.
Instead I ran full force, leaping into the enveloping wetness. It felt oddly warm for this time of night, this time of year. Perhaps the snow made it welcoming; 65 degrees in winter is much more appreciated than 65 degrees in summer.
Joanie beckoned me to stay in her frantic presence. I refused her again; reveling in the anti-gravity element. I climbed out only for an Olympic-sized belly flop. I welcomed the shattering pain and dove deeper into tumbles and other gymnastics I learned a lifetime ago. It was easy to drift, knowing I couldn’t get far. Until temptation began its slow tingling crawl into my determination. I kicked and pulled away from the buoyancy in a need to feel the boundaries of my surroundings.
The waters overtook me and I found myself floundering, not knowing which way was up or how much further I could sink. I was startled to feel Joanie’s grip on my arm, pulling me into a lighter darkness, away from the depths and into the moonlight. It was colder in the air above. I shivered as Joanie’s terrified eyes glazed. Without turning, I became aware of a presence following me up from the deeper dark: a body rising to the surface.
It was a wreck. Torn, bloodstained clothes. Terrible scrapes and deep, penetrating cuts on its arms and legs. As I concentrated on the ghastly wounds covering its head, Joanie’s grip released and I was sickened to be drifting closer to the mess before me. The bloodwater threatened to engulf me completely.
There was no spasm, no terrible calamity. Just a slow, methodical turn as the body brought its face to sight. I recognized the body, the face, as my own. I looked at my scrapes from the fence. Blood flowed rapidly from nearly every wound. I felt so dizzy. Was I floating? Or falling? I could feel nothing but the collision of my body becoming one with this, my body, in the cold dark waters.
The pool waters turned thick and red. Joanie fell a world away. Was she still reaching? I could no longer feel or hear her. She was quickly vanishing into a vision blurring into a dream. A very dark dream.
Joanie and I, driving in the wet cold; halfway between dinner and doorway. The flakes came at us like we were tunneling through a pillow fight; thick and unique. We celebrated in our excitement.
The fence transformed into heavy, crunching metal as I flew from its grasp into the water turned to blood, my blood. My body and I collided to welcome each other and sank into the dark tranquility. It was perfect.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
