Sep 14, 2011 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
In honor of Disney’s re-release of it’s 32nd animated film “The Lion King” this Friday, I found this writing I did in February, 2009. Enjoy!
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“Rise and shine, and give God the glory, glory…” (Old children’s song)
I looked up “Glory” in Vine’s Concise Dictionary. This is just a sampling of the offering: Glory, Beauty, Ornament, Distinction, Adornment, a Crown of Glory (rank), Improper Pride, High Status, Speaking Honor to Someone… Wait. Go back. Improper Pride? That seems so out of sync with the others.
What exactly does that mean? “Improper” denotes something that is inappropriate, inaccurate, doesn’t belong in the setting, doesn’t apply to the situation at hand. “Pride”, on the other hand, signifies a high opinion of oneself, the feeling of being the best, splendor. It also means a group of lions.
Is it possible to get a word picture from this? Now, I’ve seen “The Lion King” far too many times. Scar was definitely improper! Simba was a young, misguided cub led astray; but we all know in the end he claimed his rightful place to carry on the leadership of his father. Could this be us?
I was once a Simba, convinced that my actions had taken me away from the love and comfort of my Family. I had let Improper Pride control my thoughts and actions, and chose instead to run from my mistakes. In the end, I had to choose to let them seek me out, to bring me back, just as Nala did for Simba. I would not go willingly, and there were some “friends” by my side who did not want to let me go. My Nala fought to bring me to the Truth. My Rafiki hit me on the head, just as in the movie, to knock some sense into me. And then I realized. I could go back. I must go back. It was my calling. My duty. My show of respect for my creator.
I called satan (Scar) out, confronting the lies he told to me and about me. It took work, a lot of work, but my Family was restored.
To this day, my heart aches with “what if’s”. What if I had forgiven them earlier? We would have more good years together. What if I had listened to God earlier? I would have learned so much quicker. What if I had forgiven myself? There’s the torture. And the blessing. Because I did forgive myself. For all things. For the hurts I caused myself. For the hurts I caused my family and friends. For the hurts I caused to those who are now reading this in love (thank you for your forgiveness!). For the hurts I caused to my Lord. And then I had to forgive myself for feeling guilty about waiting to forgive. It is a breath of fresh air when true forgiveness comes to us. The weight of anger, sin, and manipulation, is taken away. The world is new, vibrant, beautiful. It is Glorious. And just as the sun rises each morning, I must seek forgiveness each day. For each day holds new-ness. A new view. A new attitude.
Is the glass half empty or half full? Neither. Because “my cup overflows” (Psalm 23:5). Even in the presence of our enemies, God prepares a feast for you and me. He is always with us, no matter where we go, what we do, who we are. He will always place around us those who He will use to keep us close to Him, and when we stray, to bring us back to Him.
Simba was never really alone, even when he thought he was. Look for your Nala. Look for your Rafiki. Give them the blessing of being there for you. Allow them the privilege of being with you on this journey of life. And try not to go your own way. There’s safety in numbers.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make your paths straight.”
(Proverbs 3:5-6).
Yes, I’m a Disney fan. It goes to show that God can use anything to get His message across.
Sep 13, 2011 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Another Writer’s Digest Community short-short story from last year.
Time to Say Goodbye . . . A New Beginning.
She closed the door, closed her eyes. She heard only the clicking of the lock falling into place as the only thought was her repetitive mantra, “Never again…”; racing, disorganized, scrambling any other sense of composure she may have had earlier.
Keeping her eyes as closed as possible, she stumbled down the hall toward the Living Room, and laughed a cynical laugh as the traces of death still surrounded her. Photos of an old love, letters from once-known strangers. Boxes and piles of chaos, the remnants of a past life.
She reached for her wine and after two thoughtful sips and a primal scream, tossed the remainder out onto the debris, leaving a poetic stain of red, dripping as though her lifeblood itself was pouring out of her.
She turned to the balcony door and stood just inside, her long shadow tracing awkwardly over the mess. The City roared beneath her, away from her; giving a false animation and electronic life to everything outside. There was no distinct sound she could clarify. Just… noise.
She returned then to the interior, listening only to the pounding inside her as it grew louder, stronger. Chilled by a life of unfeeling, she reached for the matches over the fireplace and watched as she struck them, one by one, over and over. Finally, one took flame and she gazed at its beauty, ever-changing yet always present, and knew what she had to do.
She watched in eternal slow motion as the small flame fell to the floor, opening a roar of wonders as it grew and ate and devoured all she had left. And she stood there. Watching with great intent until it pushed her back to the window, back to indistinction. There would be nothing left to save, even if she’d wanted to.
The heat pressed against her, and she relished its warmth. It had been too long since she felt… warm. She stood as her body purged itself of impurities. And longed to save herself.
In a flash, overtaken by bright, hot, licking tongues of flames, she opened the window into a collision of fire and air as both roared for her affections. Scrambling over the edge, she closed her eyes once again and allowed herself to slip into a familiar sense of the unknown. She knew only she could always start again.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Sep 12, 2011 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
I don’t understand people who say they can’t write. Everyone has a story to tell. We tell stories every day. We explain things, we give direction. We hold great conversations with those around us. We recount our days for our spouses, our children, our significant others.
I write because if I don’t, it explodes inside me. I write to vent. I write to cry. I write to jump for joy. I write for the pleasure it gives in seeing someone smile. I write for the satisfaction of seeing someone nod in understanding. I write for the person who thinks they can’t.
It is not brave, what I do. It is survival.
For me, There is no other way to live.
“I write for the same reason I breathe. Because if I didn’t, I would die.” ~Isaac Asimov
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Sep 8, 2011 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
I love the creamy, cheesy soups at restaurants. But I can’t afford to go out each time I want one bowlful. For the price of less than three restaurant servings, this recipe serves up 12 or more portions. It’s simple to make, freezes well, and goes great with breads.
It can be made on the stove top or in the slow cooker. Directions for both follow the recipe.
INGREDIENTS:
1 chopped onion
2 TBSP butter [if stove top, not needed for slow cooker]
6 small red potatoes, chopped
1 large [26 oz.] condensed Cream of Chicken soup
1 soup can of water
16 oz. frozen broccoli, thawed and chopped
1/2 can milk
1 lb. Velveeta cheese, cubed
1 celery stalk, chopped
1 large carrot, chopped
4 – 6 strips cooked bacon, crumbled
Salt and pepper to taste
Chives for garnish [if desired]
STOVE TOP DIRECTIONS:
Saute’ onion in butter.
In 5-quart stockpot add onion, potatoes, soup, water. Mix well, bring to light boil for 10-15 minutes until potatoes are cooked. Add broccoli, milk, carrot, celery. Stir regularly. Bring to light boil for 5 minutes. Add bacon, mix well. Reduce heat to medium high. Add cheese. Stir until melted.
SLOW COOKER DIRECTIONS:
In 5-quart crock pot combine all ingredients (butter not needed for slow cooker).
Cook on high for three hours, stirring every hour to blend cheese and ingredients.
*You may want to soften the potatoes before adding to the slow cooker. You can do this by either boiling for 10 minutes, or microwaving for 6 minutes (be sure to puncture first, so they don’t explode!). Handle carefully, as they will be hot, and cut into pieces before adding to slow cooker.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Sep 5, 2011 |
by MollyJoRealy @MollyJoRealy
There’s a fairly new song by Andy Grammer that basically says, no matter what, it ain’t that bad. So keep trudging along. The song is “Keep Your Head Up”. Not only does it have a catchy beat, but the words are nifty. I was pleasantly surprised to not hear anything about sex, drugs or violence.
Lately I’ve come to realize what’s really been holding me back from writing. I mean, really writing. From studying the craft, from expanding my vocabulary and resume. From doing what it is I have always known I was born to do. I was born to be a writer. So why aren’t I?
I’m afraid. I’m afraid of a great many things, but to let it influence how I do or do not use my gifts and talents… not much of a role model, am I? I’m not afraid of failure. I have a handful of rejection slips and “no thank you” emails already. That’s not it.
I’m not afraid of not being good enough. If I was a truly lousy writer, it wouldn’t bring me the joy that it does. I’m not even afraid of needing a “real” job to make ends meet.
It dawned on me a few weeks ago, and try as I might to push the thought away, to drown it out with the common sense mantra of “that’s so ridiculous!”, the fact remains . . .
I am afraid of success.
I’m afraid of leaving my foundation and flying. I’m afraid of the ghosts in my past coming back to haunt me. I’m afraid of reliving mistakes that I’d left behind. I’m afraid of people not understanding, of reminding me of who they think I am, of me not being able to stand tall and look ’em in the eye.
I’m afraid of becoming everything I know I can be . . .
Because that means things would change. It could mean meeting new people (a skill I still haven’t fully mastered). It could mean traveling. It could mean people counting on me for more. It could mean the opportunity to fail bigger.
It definitely means the unknown.
I used to have this joke-mantra. I’d say, “Change is bad.” To which my friend Jeff would tell me, “Change is change. It’s not good or bad. It’s just change.” We’d argue a lot on the subject. Nobody won, because we couldn’t convince the other.
Of late, I can see that he was right. And I’m ready. I’m ready to change for change’s sake. I’m ready to take the bull by the horns and do what I need to do to be the writer I’m supposed to be.
Today’s church sermon was about “Rejecting Old Excuses”. Let’s just say it was one of those puzzle pieces that is fitting neatly into the arrow God is building for me.
It’s time to stop wishing and hoping and thinking and praying. It’s time to act. And write. And submit. And be rejected. Over and over. And over again.
A few months ago, I was speaking with a close friend who was lamenting the lack of call-backs for job interviews, when it seemed others were getting so many. I quickly told him, “Why do you want so many? You only need one!”
I guess it’s time to take my own medicine. I can’t be kicked out if I haven’t stepped in.
So this is me. Back on in the saddle again. Writing it out. Keeping up with the To-Do List. And getting rejected.
It’s the best feeling, ever.
I promise.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
