Gumby Transitions

I’m writing from a vantage point far from my usual position of repose. It’s a time of reflection, and yet a bit of silent screaming is finding a way into the crevices of a glued-together outer shell. Ouch, that doesn’t feel very good.

gumby-transitionsTransitions can stretch us until we feel almost broken as we pretend to shake our leg free from the grip of something we can’t quite put words around. But even when facing the pain of a situation, a jovial thought can sneak in that shows us our ability to handle anything.

My thought at the time of this writing just happened to be Gumby in all his green, rubbery glory. Gumby has one leg pinched and stretched too far to be comfortable. Not good. But then a slow smile crept onto my face as I remembered that I can bend him, pull him into shape and smooth out his distress.

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Calling Home: A Prayer

The day is sleepy and quietly nearing the moment of rolling into a new beginning. I call you to sit with me this evening and into the night. I am asking you to guide me to the deepest part of myself. The brave part. The all knowing, secure, always present part.

I have walked through another day with every bit of moxie I can muster. Keeping myself afloat. Moving through this change with a smile, and a nod towards better days ahead. My arms are outstretched; I am balancing on an imaginary tightrope. I am not afraid.

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