Jedidiah Stitch continued....part 2

Here is the 2nd installment of my serial blog story. Please come back next Thursday for part 3

        Without even flinching, Jedidiah reached inside his backpack and pulled out the flashlight and bible. He began reading from John chapter 3. The nameless man dropped the plank and got on his knees. He began to cry as Jedidiah read “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotton son, For whoever believes in him shall not perish but will have everlasting life.” The man, who was by this point weeping uncontrollably, slowly crawled over to the huddled children and untied them. Jedidiah kept reading, as if he did not even notice the man’s actions. “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” Then Jedidiah stopped and looked at the man and children crammed together in the corner. He then reached in his back pack and handed the youngest boy the two cars. He gave the scared 6 year old girl a stick of gum and to the oldest boy, who looked maybe 9, he gave the comic books. Then he gave a stick of gum to the man, who now looked embarrassed.  Jedidiah sat down next to the man.

            “What is your name?” Jedidiah asked boldly.

            “Elliot Bently” the plankless man replied.

            “You are forgiven by God’s grace. Just send the kids home.” Jedidiah said and rose to stand.  Then he turned and headed out the unplanked window.

            Jedidiah knew that he was not going home. He walked 3 more blocks further into the seedy downtown area. Most 10 year olds would have trembled in fear, but Jedidiah was not afraid. He walked until he found a dirty wooden bench. He sat down and prayed for wisdom and guidance.

            After almost a half hour, Jed started walked west toward a bridge. There was a man, standing on the edge of it staring into the ditch below. He wavered back and forth. The man, whose clothes were ragged and dirty, did not seem well.

            “Hey sir!” Jedidiah called to the man.

            “Uh” the man whimpered back.

            “Please don’t jump”

            The old man pulled  out a pistol and pointed it towards Jed. “How dare you tell me what to do youngin’” The man uttered. “You have no idea what I am going through.”

            Jedidiah calmly moved closer to the man, not fearing the gun that was pointed to his chest. “Please sir, I know more than you think and I know you are a child of God.”

            The man, whose heart was stone, kept the gun up pointed at Jed. “I’ll take you out too boy. I am not afraid to die.” The arthritic hand wobbled but it stayed focused on its target.

            “I know sir. But this is not God’s plan.” Jedidiah continued moving closer. He was so close, now Jed could smell the man’s stench of alcohol, tobacco and some other unidentifiable smells.

            The old man pulled the trigger.

Jedidiah Stitch

1st installment of my serial novel, Jedidiah Stitch  , come back next Thursday for part 2

Jedidiah Stitch tumbled out of his warm cozy bed onto the hard wooden floor. Today was a big day for Jedidiah. He crawled across the room and peered once again into his backpack that he packed the night before. There was a flashlight, his tattered Bible, three comic books, six sticks of gum, a sweat shirt, an apple, his bottle cap collection and 2 hot wheel cars. Then he added a string that used to belong to an old kite. He pulled the enormous backpack on his pajama clad body. Jedidiah was too excited to waste time with dressing this morning.

He stealthfully tip-toed to the window and slowly climbed out onto the tree below.  Jedidiah was now free. He rubbed his scraggly blond hair out of his eyes and decided the best course of action was west through the giant dirt lot.  The dirt lot was full of interesting things to add to his backpack, things he may need on his journey down town.

Down town is four blocks from Jed’s small house on Jefferson Street.  The dirt lot was bumpy and sometimes contained nails, which if found would be added to his stash. The only problem this morning was that Jedidiah forgot his shoes.  So his dirty size threes scuffled through the empty lot.

Jedidiah didn’t know where his journey would lead him. His vision last night was of an old red brick building that had wood planks over the two upstairs windows.  He could hear muffled crying and arguing but the vision ended without him recognizing what he was being called to do. When he packed his bag some of the odd items seemed to jump off his shelf and into his hands; still Jed had no idea what God had in store for him today.

After four long blocks and very swollen feet Jed saw the red building from his dream. The only thing missing was one wooden plank. Jedidiah climbed the metal staircase on his knees trying to avoid the squeaky steps. He could see in the one uncovered window. “Maybe I am too early, “ Jedidiah whispered.

There were three children huddled in the corner. Jedidiah knew that one of them was the crying child from the night before. Through the dimly lit room he could see that there was someone else there. He could feel an evil presence and the sweat from his brow was dripping onto his now muddy feet.  He wiped his hands on the back of his puppy pajamas. Jedidiah knelt and prayed, not as a habit but as a necessity. He knew something was wrong here, someone was evil and something had to be done about it.

What Jedidiah didn’t know was that the man inside had the missing plank in his hand. For some reason the man thought he may need it. Did the man suspect a supernaturally charged ten year old was outside on his fire escape? Probably not. The man was scared, but not of anything earthly. 

Jedidiah stood up and pulled on his sweat shirt. Then he tried to smooth down his unruly bed head and adjusted his pjs. He was not scared; rather he was full of peace. He still did not know what he was going to do, but those children did not belong in this abandoned apartment building. Those children needed to be saved.

Jedidiah wiggled his way under the planked window, the one closest to the children. A rumbling noise from the opposite corner revealed a dark figure wielding a wooden plank. Jed rose and stood facing the figure with his arms outstretched as a sign of surrender. He resembled the Lord on the cross with his dirt stained palms facing the man.

The man raised the plank even higher above his head ready to strike.

What not to wear at Walmart (or anywhere else on the planet)

        This weekend I went to Walmart and saw someone that needs to join the ranks of the worst dressed Walmart shopper. Yes, this list is long and easy to get onto. As a matter of fact, when you type in "worst dressed people at Walmart" there are several sites of photos that make it into this special hall of infamy. Any one wearing clothes in which your body parts hang out unnaturally or way to much skin is revealed automatically goes onto this list.  Ladies who wear a double D but squeeze themselves into a "small" tee shirt easily are placed in the ranks of terrible clothing attire. I can't even fit my tiny self into a small tee shirt anymore and when I do I look like I am trying to relive my teenage years.  People who are not children in pajamas also go on the list especially those with the cartoon character pjs.  I saw a lady in her nasty scraggly robe there the other night and I was in awe, it was not even late enough to be in your robe as it was maybe 7 pm.
       If you are going to purposely subject yourself to stares and glances of other shoppers, you should at least wear clean pajamas. Then there is the lady who thinks she is still 18, though to be nice she was over 40. I love the eighties, at least their music, but women in their middle 40's to 50's should not be wearing spandex pants with a neon over the shoulder shirt. I also recommend proper undergarments at the store. Heavy women should not wear spandex in any circumstance and they most definitely should wear underwear that covers properly and you most definitely need a bra with an over the shoulder shirt  whatever size you are.  I will save the visual for you and stop there. Also high heels do not go with everything, especially tiny shorts that by the way do not fit women in the plus sizes.  I am not even allowed to wear my daisy dukes outside and I have a nice figure in my opinion.   I have an itty bitty skirt that I thought would be nice to wear out and I know Jay, my best friend and body guard for the night, would have sent me back to my house to change.
       Of course some people don't have time to prepare themselves before going out, I mean it is only Walmart right? I occasionally will wear my sweats out and have done so early or late at night. But I constantly see my students at Walmart so I know I can't look too scraggly. Yes, there have been occasions when my lion's mane was unruly or when my socks didn't match or even gasp, wearing a sports bra. But at least I know I won't be caught as one of the worst dressed there. I hate to only pick on the women shoppers, but unfortunately they bring it on themselves. I have seen a few men who have been flamboyant or colorful in their clothing choices at Walmart. Even seen a few men in their jammies there, but by far the women take the cake.

The Crazy Coaster

        If the crazy coaster comes to your house don't get on it. I have several people in my life that suffer from mental illness and the coaster comes to my house often. In fact it is sitting right outside my door waiting for me to sit down. The jackals on board are howling with satisfaction if I climb on and weeping if I do not.  Sometimes the coaster seems tantalizing. I mean, what if it is different this time? What if I can make the course change? Sometimes it seems easier to join them in their self pity then the effort it takes not to. Especially for those who have the terrible habit that I do.  I have this stubborn quality that hates being wrong so if the invitation is an argument, I usually find it hard to say no. I also can't handle being rejected well nor do I like being insulted. When these things happen I fight back and have found myself smack dab in the middle of the coaster.
      The crazy roller coaster can even trick you. You think for sure this time you are not getting on and before you know it you are strapped in and headed for a downward spiral. I usually love roller coasters, but this is one coaster that I do not enjoy. Once you are on it, you are strapped in and thrust into a scary addictive series of twists and turns that you cannot control if you wished to. Yes, it is addictive....the rush of the roller coaster, but do not let the adreline rush reel you in.
      This coaster is sometimes subtle in presenting itself and you may not even realize your on it until it is too late. I have even ridden the coaster and later gave an excuse to why I got on. In my mind it was a good reason, but in the sane mind my excuse is illogical. Once you climb on, you have yielded control of your situation.  You are letting the driver, which is never you, have complete control.  When the coaster is run by my 11 year old I need to remember that I can climb into the drivers seat and put on the brakes on it. God is in control not the roller coaster operator.
      Instead of getting on the coaster you are to run from it, avoiding it at all costs. My wellness is critical for my family's sake. This last sentence was not reality for me last week. Last week I rode the coaster daily and was in constant state of dizziness. I wasn't contributing to my recovery, but instead was making the roller coaster more tantalizing of a choice.
     I have the choice NOT to get on that coaster. When I emotionally detach from the situation at hand, no matter how crazy, I can be a better mom to my children, a better wife to my husband, a better friend and most importantly a better child of God. When I focus on God and ask Him for guidance about the situation that the coaster is weaving into, then God is in control of the coaster. Wether the coaster is spiralling into someone's depression,or climbing rapidly into a heated argument, or all out mania, I can choose to ignore it. I can choose to "change the dance" by not climbing aboard.  If I have the urge to ride a roller coaster I need to go to Six Flags. Those coasters are definetly more fun.

How not to eat chocolate

http://www.instructables.com/id/Chocolate-Covered-Squid---Valentine-s-Day-Candy-Fr/
       Okay a friend of mine gave me this recipe, knowing how much I love chocolate. This has got to be the nastiest way to cook using chocolate ever. A close second would be chocolate covered grasshoppers. This recipe is from the same person who eats chocolate covered bacon, but at least both of those things are yummy on their own. Squid and chocolate do not go together!!! Do you hear me Darren?
         They look like they are fake when covered in chocolate but I can imagine the feel of the slimy rubbery squid as it slides down my throat and I want to puke. I love chocolate but this is one recipe that gets a huge thumb down for me. I do not enjoy calamari, which is at least fried, why in the world would I want to try this. And then he tells me it is spicy too. So throw in the chili powder to hide the taste of the squid or squelch the taste of the chocolate, which by the way was already ruined with the fishy squid flavor.
       When I was in high school my teacher gave us chocolate bars that were really chocolate covered ants and chocolate covered spiders. It really didn't taste all that bad, but when I bite into my chocolate bar I do not want a crunchy spider leg to poke out. Once I saw that it ruined the chocolate taste and made my stomach turn inside out. Don't get me wrong I love chocolate, but somethings need to stay far away from the chocolate. Squid and chocolate should not even be in the same sentence nevermind the same pot.

The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

   Today's blog post is inspired by this book. I had one of these terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days yesterday. When I think about my bad day in hindsight, as I am sure any one reading this book will  agree, our bad days are really not that bad at all. For example, the poor Alexander did not get a dessert in his lunch box...oh no the horror of it. He should be thankful that he usually gets a dessert at all. Many children would die for his mother's handmade lunch. I had such a bad day yesterday that I deserved, and thouroughly enjoyed, Chipolte for lunch. Oh no, he had lima beans for dinner, but did the poor kid ever think that some malnourished kids never have vegetables for dinner. Another bad thing to happen to Alexander was kissing on the television, yet he is fortunate to own a television, maybe even more than one. His day started poor with gum in his hair, what a lucky kid to get gum before bed. His best friend told him he was his third best friend, how blessed he is to have three best friends. His teacher liked someone's sailboat drawing better than his invisible , and nonexsistant castle, well at least the kid has an imagination.
     I can definetly sympathize with Alexander for when I have a  bad morning, things seem to get worse. My day starts with uncooperative children. Followed by a mad dash to find my keys, only to realize when arriving at work that I don't have the right keys. My coffee was made incorrectly, my classroom is overly cold, my son tore up his pants and.....by the end of the day (only 10 pm mind you) I was utterly exhausted. Yes, I am at this point sounding like a sniveling whining Alexander. I had cried over the most ridiculous things such as finding a lock for my fridge, very cold weather and loud kids. I had other "issues" occur that the drama queen in me only made worse.  The only true reason for my tears was pure frustration on top of a pile of desperation, that was followed by a dash of pessimism, and a failed  test of patience. By the end of the day I was done and I wanted to run away to hide. The character Alexander keeps mentioning that he wishes to move to Australia, which yesterday I completely agreed with him. I was literally worn down and worn out. I know now, looking back, that when I am like this I should just go lie down, not speak to anyone and pray. When I open my mouth, the only thing that comes out is garbled stupidity. I was reminded of this by my best friend, which of course made me cry. Since everything made me cry yesterday, I know that it was not his fault nor his intent to make me cry.

Alexander's mother says the best thing at the end of the book. Everyone has those bad days, even in Australia.

Mini Monster

My daughter is my mini me. Why then do I find her ear piercing screeches so annoying? Did I really sound like this? She talks loud, screams loud, whines constantly and is very annoying when she does any of these things. I know I was always a chatter box and have been known for my diarreah of the mouth on occasion, but the volume issue really is unbearable. My little drama queen is in her room right now trying to convince us to help her clean her room. We could be right next to her and she would be yelling the same. She doesn't even need anyone to talk to as she will converse with imaginary friends or stuffed animals. The boys think it is funny to aggravate  her and at the present moment I had to put one child on the stairs for time out for aggravating her and making her screech. I hope she grows out of this. I know I can be annoying at times, but I am not that bad, am I?