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I'm Writing A Book
LOOKING To publish my first Novel. Of course it would be great that it would sell well, but more than anything is the adventure in writing, the friendship that spawned its conception...
.
JWs Refashioned...
THE CURE CRISIS
CHAPTER
ELEVEN:
THE CHURCH
.....................................
The booming voice of the priest bellowed out, "Since the days of the Last Administration, and the revelation that the Iran-Israeli Crisis of 2014 declared the official end of the Church Age; have we all struggled for meaning in our lives!”
Matthew Daniels had grown up listening to such religious propaganda his entire life. It seemed that every eight to twelve months, with the revelation of the latest “New Light” a new pet word or catch phrase was being ushered into everyone‘s vocabulary. The old, out-of-dated phrases became a warning sign to the Faithful that a believer had gone astray. Therefore, non-believers were easy to spot. The rhetoric of terminology had changed over the years, but the theme remained the same: The Church was always on some razor’s edge of being snuffed out. For persecution was a constant threat to stand up against.
The High Bishop continued his call to the faithful with, “It was then that The Great Tribulation of the Saints began, and the flood gates of hell themselves were thrown open wide!" The speaker's voice rose as Amen resounded throughout the sanctuary's audience. Accentuating a gesturing hand in the air, the ornately robed figure behind the lectern added, "Yet - yet, with the advent of the Emulator in our midst came the manifestation of the long prophesied Day of Resurrection of the true believers. The spiritually destitute have been revitalized into the Global Order of this gathered Brotherhood today. For only with the acceptance of this Divine light is there any hope beyond the sin of natural death. Salvation is found only in the surrendering-release of the broken spirit, and only in His True Church!"
The Lee-Roberts device had become a fixture in every Church, and almost as ubiquitous as the Crucifixion itself. Its use was as common as the collection plate. Everyone knew that, more than 12 units, (which equated to 12 years of an extended lifespan), caused a permanent side effect on the human body with its discoloration of the eyes. It became the sign that a true Christian had indeed been “born again”. For the physical mark of jaundiced eyes was an undeniable evidence of an inward spiritual change. Sure, you could deny you ‘belonged’ to the Church, but the assumption was always there. Yes, Satan had his counterfeit organization in the guise of the Underground’s misguiding’s, but it was The Church alone that could save one’s immortal soul; via the Emulator.
Mathew had believed so much of the official, ever-changing doctrine for so long without question as a child; but, over the last few months he had begun reading the Scriptures himself. Strange the difference he began noticing in his own head space of thinking. It was beginning to dawn on him that the context of reading really seemed to vary drastically from what he had heard in Sanctuary all of his life. For the more he read the more the message of the Church seemed to be beyond disturbing to him. At times it was just downright dishonest.
One day, while passing along an alley way, one he had been down a hundred times before something caught his eye as if for the first time. A worn and tattered poster of Smokey the Bear had been plastered on the vandalized brick wall squeezing the two buildings close together. Its fading, bold print caption still read: ONLY YOU CAN PREVENT remained; the phrase “Forest fires” had been ripped off. The badly stained poster underneath it was in even worse condition pasted over yet another copy of the same. But it got Matthew to thinking, and the first thing that came to him was, ‘If not me then who’ is going to bring any change to the Church?
From that moment onward Matthew Daniels had begun finding himself in troublesome conversation in his Church circles. After the Sermon-talks on Sunday morning he would ask his own myriad of growing questions during the Study period instead of answering the stated ones. The frustration of his peers mounted as they tried to fill in all the holes with “proof-text” doctrines that only lead to even more questions in Matthew’s aching head.
Then one
day the stomach churning realization struck Matthew undeniably when an Elder,
Jonus Neardan said, “Need to be careful with all the questions Matt, some folks
may think you’re becoming an Apostate.” Truth of the matter hit him square in
the face. He was an Apostate. Death was
now on his heels.THE CHURCH
.....................................
The booming voice of the priest bellowed out, "Since the days of the Last Administration, and the revelation that the Iran-Israeli Crisis of 2014 declared the official end of the Church Age; have we all struggled for meaning in our lives!”
Matthew Daniels had grown up listening to such religious propaganda his entire life. It seemed that every eight to twelve months, with the revelation of the latest “New Light” a new pet word or catch phrase was being ushered into everyone‘s vocabulary. The old, out-of-dated phrases became a warning sign to the Faithful that a believer had gone astray. Therefore, non-believers were easy to spot. The rhetoric of terminology had changed over the years, but the theme remained the same: The Church was always on some razor’s edge of being snuffed out. For persecution was a constant threat to stand up against.
The High Bishop continued his call to the faithful with, “It was then that The Great Tribulation of the Saints began, and the flood gates of hell themselves were thrown open wide!" The speaker's voice rose as Amen resounded throughout the sanctuary's audience. Accentuating a gesturing hand in the air, the ornately robed figure behind the lectern added, "Yet - yet, with the advent of the Emulator in our midst came the manifestation of the long prophesied Day of Resurrection of the true believers. The spiritually destitute have been revitalized into the Global Order of this gathered Brotherhood today. For only with the acceptance of this Divine light is there any hope beyond the sin of natural death. Salvation is found only in the surrendering-release of the broken spirit, and only in His True Church!"
The Lee-Roberts device had become a fixture in every Church, and almost as ubiquitous as the Crucifixion itself. Its use was as common as the collection plate. Everyone knew that, more than 12 units, (which equated to 12 years of an extended lifespan), caused a permanent side effect on the human body with its discoloration of the eyes. It became the sign that a true Christian had indeed been “born again”. For the physical mark of jaundiced eyes was an undeniable evidence of an inward spiritual change. Sure, you could deny you ‘belonged’ to the Church, but the assumption was always there. Yes, Satan had his counterfeit organization in the guise of the Underground’s misguiding’s, but it was The Church alone that could save one’s immortal soul; via the Emulator.
Mathew had believed so much of the official, ever-changing doctrine for so long without question as a child; but, over the last few months he had begun reading the Scriptures himself. Strange the difference he began noticing in his own head space of thinking. It was beginning to dawn on him that the context of reading really seemed to vary drastically from what he had heard in Sanctuary all of his life. For the more he read the more the message of the Church seemed to be beyond disturbing to him. At times it was just downright dishonest.
One day, while passing along an alley way, one he had been down a hundred times before something caught his eye as if for the first time. A worn and tattered poster of Smokey the Bear had been plastered on the vandalized brick wall squeezing the two buildings close together. Its fading, bold print caption still read: ONLY YOU CAN PREVENT remained; the phrase “Forest fires” had been ripped off. The badly stained poster underneath it was in even worse condition pasted over yet another copy of the same. But it got Matthew to thinking, and the first thing that came to him was, ‘If not me then who’ is going to bring any change to the Church?
From that moment onward Matthew Daniels had begun finding himself in troublesome conversation in his Church circles. After the Sermon-talks on Sunday morning he would ask his own myriad of growing questions during the Study period instead of answering the stated ones. The frustration of his peers mounted as they tried to fill in all the holes with “proof-text” doctrines that only lead to even more questions in Matthew’s aching head.
THE DASH
We are born into the screaming world
crying that our desires be met
our hope someday will be fulfilled
and our fears quelled in love.
We all pass from this life is certain;
asleep in a dreamless peace in the night,
amid the alarms of a hospital's arena
or the massive pileup on the freeway's mess
all find an exit in some fashion and day.
Birth is a blessed gift from our Creator,
and death regardless our ultimate end;
yet it is the dash between the headstone dates
the opportunities seized upon or dismissed,
the multitude of consequences endured
from the myriad of choices diverged
that make our journey an individual one.
I on the one hand have been blessed
beyond measure of rank in stature
to experience this realm with love
abounding from even the briefest of
park bench smiles to the
life-long hand-held to the last.
Not the dates but the dash matters most
in this thing we call LIFE.
~ David De Lane Snow
crying that our desires be met
our hope someday will be fulfilled
and our fears quelled in love.
We all pass from this life is certain;
asleep in a dreamless peace in the night,
amid the alarms of a hospital's arena
or the massive pileup on the freeway's mess
all find an exit in some fashion and day.
Birth is a blessed gift from our Creator,
and death regardless our ultimate end;
yet it is the dash between the headstone dates
the opportunities seized upon or dismissed,
the multitude of consequences endured
from the myriad of choices diverged
that make our journey an individual one.
I on the one hand have been blessed
beyond measure of rank in stature
to experience this realm with love
abounding from even the briefest of
park bench smiles to the
life-long hand-held to the last.
Not the dates but the dash matters most
in this thing we call LIFE.
~ David De Lane Snow
MY SISTER and Her Blog
I've been playing around with various websites trying
to find a USER FRIENDLY one for my sister... This is what I have so
far... My sister, Cindy is 3 years older than I am and we have lost
contact over the last 25 years and only recently begun making inroads to
building a new relationship.
MY HAT
THERE ARE SOME THINGS that are "just once in a life time" experiences; this was mine! I got my hat while on a TRIP in Columbia. We, John Velasquez and myself took a 700 step trek up the side of one of the World's largest rocks to a patio tower on top. After our descent I purchased this hat as a memento of the event and trip. No, it's not a Stetson. My hat is La Casadel Sombrero SASTOR 3xxx STEVENSON. I can't read it any more but I think it says SIZE 8 (?); It has tassels on back of rim, I didn't care for them at first, but came to like it for what it was. I love my hat and the memories it brings to mind of my grand adventures to another country.Because I had such a wonderful trip and John's neice, Natalia was my English guide I gifted her my favorite Indiana Jones fedora as a token of my deep appreciation; hence, also the reason for purchasing this one in return.
While there I even saw some of the Guerrilla Rebels in Colombia. On the way to THE ROCK, El Penon we saw a band of Rebels pretending to be doing road construction. Our cab driver stopped and paid a "tax" as with passed by I saw all the rifles to the side on the way back they were not there; very very tense for awile there as they were looking in the cab and chattering away, I could tell even John was getting a bit concerned though he tired not showing it to me. I loved my trip and would go back in a heartbeat. The people were friendly and very respectful. Not only that but got to see some great ART, and visit the GRAVE of a Colombian Drug Lord.
ON THE FLIP SIDE
Saying Goodbye:On the flipside
Saying goodby
Like telling your life its all over
It's like looking for the 4 leaf clover
You want, you can't, it doesn't exist.
I can't say goodbye
I can only say, I'll see you on the flipside
Goodbye is - so final
I will stay tribal
I've had so many loved ones
loved ones died
left or just gone
The will always remain
tied to my heart like a song
As you will
with that beautiful smile
that very tender passionate kiss
Your touch, your sweet large heart
As well as I an yours
Thank you God
on the flipside.
~BY
Cynthia D. Gutkowski
(One of my sister's poems).
.
Saying goodby
Like telling your life its all over
It's like looking for the 4 leaf clover
You want, you can't, it doesn't exist.
I can't say goodbye
I can only say, I'll see you on the flipside
Goodbye is - so final
I will stay tribal
I've had so many loved ones
loved ones died
left or just gone
The will always remain
tied to my heart like a song
As you will
with that beautiful smile
that very tender passionate kiss
Your touch, your sweet large heart
As well as I an yours
Thank you God
on the flipside.
~BY
Cynthia D. Gutkowski
(One of my sister's poems).
.
FINER THAN GOLD
You are finer than gold and riches;
you are rich with love and caring
you are a "Go to Guy"
Never ending just like the sky
Your compassion for others
goes above and beyond
Patient, caring.
Yes Love, love above all!
You are a gifted man.
WIth the saying "I can".
I adore you with everythingI am
Our journey together we learn
from each other.
Each day is new and exciting just to know
So inviting
Good day my love
Let's see what a Blessing this day will
bring forth.
~ BY
Cynthia D. Gutkowski
(One of my sister's poems).
.
you are rich with love and caring
you are a "Go to Guy"
Never ending just like the sky
Your compassion for others
goes above and beyond
Patient, caring.
Yes Love, love above all!
You are a gifted man.
WIth the saying "I can".
I adore you with everythingI am
Our journey together we learn
from each other.
Each day is new and exciting just to know
So inviting
Good day my love
Let's see what a Blessing this day will
bring forth.
~ BY
Cynthia D. Gutkowski
(One of my sister's poems).
.
THE KEY
A Short Story by David
DeLane Snow
“No. Go watch Barney or SpongeBob on
Netflix, honey. Mommy is still cleaning,” The young mother instructed her five
year old daughter, Hope back into the living room. Candice Landmark had cleaned
the girl’s room up two days before, and after having collected two large trash
bags was surprised there was yet more to find.
The people at Good Will knew her on a first name bases after such
cleaning sprees as these, she smiled to herself.
“Mom I’m hungry.” Faith said at the doorway. The seven year old sister’s message had been
lost on her younger sibling. Candice
realized her older daughter had come to do her own job this time around as she
sighed an, “Alright.” Tossing a one
armed teddy bear onto the bed, wondering how it had been overlooked, Candice
paraded the starving children to the dining table for milk and peanut butter
sandwiches.
After
cleaning up from the meal she redirected the girls to the living room to either
do their own cleaning of misplaced toys or settle down to watch another round
of shows as she finished up her own chores.
The angles decided on cartoons instead of labor.
Picking up where she had left off, Candice
resumed her cleaning spree by placing the arm-missing bear in the trash, and
dove back into the closet. Seemed a
Mom’s job was never done. She could not
phantom how the room could be in such disarray in just a few days. Humming a church tune in her head she
continued vacating the small room of every item in favor of a closer inspection
and inventory; before reassigning them new shelf space and hangers. The venture always found the recovery of some
lost item. This time was no different.
Just as she was about to return a pair of her
youngest daughter’s Velcroed worn-tennis shoes beneath a lower cubby holed
shelf in the closet, Candice felt the rattle within. “Oh my word what did Hope hide this time”,
the young mom whispered aloud to herself? What she found and what it lead to
she never saw coming.
Last time Candice had done a total house
cleaning she had come across her husband’s stashed collection of cigarette butts.
For some unknown reason Wayne kept all his “last cigarette butts” to
commemorate his attempts at quitting.
Then there was her youngest daughter’s collection of cat-hair balls kept
in a sock! Candice was almost afraid to find out what the child had this time.
Timidly her slender fingers slid into the
child’s shoe. Upon retrieving an old
fashion key Candice found herself starring at it for the longest time trying to
place where in the world it could have come from. Her perplexed thoughts
instantly evaporated when the shocked answer came from the five year old
herself.
Coming up beside her, Hope informed the
bewildered adult, “Mommy that’s Nana’s key.”
“Okay baby.” A mixture of emotions waved
over Candice as she realized the key belonged to the jewelry boxed from her own
bedroom closet. A year before, her
grandmother had passed away; the box and key were gifted to her from her
mom. Candice had only briefly glanced inside
the box the day after the funeral. Noticing
the bobbles and costume trinkets of her beloved grandmother Lois Sakmir, the
granddaughter locked it up without a second look. With the girl’s bedroom complete she thought
maybe it was time to rediscover the heirlooms and see what childhood memories
she could recall.
Going to her own walk-in closet to explore,
her mind began to rehearse the day she last touched the jewelry box. Setting her older dresses aside for the
second hand store, Candice then made her way deeper into the closet as her two
daughters came in behind her. Atop a
clear storage container sat the polished jewelry box. The scene of a traditionally dressed Japanese
woman carrying a parasol, strolling past a Bonsai tree adorned the lid’s worn
surface. Retrieving the small treasure chest all three girls made their way out
again, then sat on the King size bed.
“It’s Nana’s box, right Mommy?” Hope sounded
a little possessive.
“Well, it’s Mommy’s box now baby. Just like Marshall used to be Nana’s puppy,
he’s ours now.” Candice informed her youngest daughter, who claimed their
Scotty Terrier as her own.
Using the key again she opened the lid of
the mahogany box revealing two smaller tasseled-lids rising up and exposing
treasures galore. The girls marveled
with Woos and Awes! One by one Candice
pulled out each item and explained in great detail the back-stories of her
legacy hoard.
“This one,” Candice said, holding up a
Masonic Square and Compass inlaid gold ring, “belonged to your great
grandfather, Buddy.”
“Did he love us mommy?” Faith asked.
“Of course he did Sweetie. Grand-paw just had a very hard life, honey.”
Candice tried not looking sad over the comment as she pulled a freshwater pearl
necklace from the wooden chest. “Can I
wear it Mommy?” Faith begged.
“Sure you can.” Putting the heirloom
delicately about the child’s neck; both beamed ear to ear. Moments later Hope was trotting about in
over-sized shoes announcing, “I’m a Princess too, Sissy.”
About that time her husband entered the
bedroom carrying a baby in his arms announcing, “Candice, Destiny is changed
and Marshall did his business in the back yard. I’m heading out for a smoke.” After being placed in her carrier, her
sister’s attention went back to playing dress up. As the dog jumped up onto the clothes laden
bed the jewelry box tumbled with a crash.
“Oh no! Marshall! Go on, get out of here.”
Candice yelled causing the nearly sleeping infant to burst into tears. The box was upside down. Though still intact, its mirror had popped
out undamaged. The girls scrambled to
assist their mother with returning the scattered necklaces, hair pins and
broaches back into their rightful compartments.
Just as Candice was sitting back onto the
bed unfolding a one page letter, Wayne came rushing in the room holding the
terrier close in his arms, asking, “What’s all the commotion about Hon?” Faith was caressing the calming cheeks of her
baby sister as her mother explained to dad the events with the box.
Candice added, “Then after Marshall almost
broke it, this letter popped out from behind the mirror.”
“Really? What does it say?” Wayne inquired.
Seeing everything was alright and that reading would calm his wife down, he
tossed the silver hair dog back onto the bed.
The terrier curled behind Candice apologetically and sat in silence as
she began enunciating aloud.
“Rachel
took me to the doctor’s appointment last week.
I’ve been diagnosed with the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease. I’m so scared to death. I fought so hard in my life to be memorable,
and now I’m going to forget everything myself, so many cherished memories.
Where do you start dismantling your life? They’ve all made me who I am, who I
was. I love my grand babies so much, and
the joy they’ve become for Candice and Wayne.
Charlene and Randel with their Ski Lodge business is just amazing. Diane
and Scott both become doctors – I’m so very proud of how things turned out for
all my children.
I was thrilled that Buddy and I were able to
make such a wonderful life together. I
was so devastated when the Chaplain came to the house and told me Buddy had been
killed in Vietnam. My world collapsed
and everything changed.
I had three little girls relying on me and I
felt all alone. Had it not been for
Marshal Evans I never would have been able to keep my sanity. Marshal was more than just a deacon in the
church he was a great friend and after a while we became more than that. After
a few months we became lovers and life was great again until the day he asked
me to marry him. It was eighteen months
later to the very day the Army officials informed me that Buddy had not been
killed but had been a POW instead. He
was released and coming home. It was an
amazing roller coaster ride.
Buddy and I continued as before. He was changed by the war and we fell apart
because of it. Yet for the girls we
stayed together even with his heavy drinking.
Marshall was there and he always comforted me and knew the right things
to say and do. Buddy either never knew
or cared that Marshall and I were close; he seemed so distant – off fighting
his own Vietnam demons. Buddy never let anyone get close and he always shut
others out who tried.
Me? Now it seems even my secret life is to
be ripped away and forgotten.”
As she finished reading the letter,
Candice’s mouth dropped. Her wide eyes
locked onto those of her husband’s own.
Wayne blurted out, “Wow! Least we
know now where your grandmother got the name for all her dogs.
The Sting of Death is Gone Why Isn't the Fear?
54 When
the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal
with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death
has been swallowed up in victory.”[a]
55 “Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”[b]
Where, O death, is your sting?”[b]
56 The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.
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