The Why

Over the year and a half that I've been blogging, I've talked about a lot of things. Most were senseless, like my explanation of God killing teenagers for making fun of bald men. Some were actually pretty interesting to write, like the guy who has seen over 300 state executions in his life. Others, like this one, mean a lot to me. And over the course of my writing and blogging experience, I've spread my wings over a multitude of topics and ideas and I gotta admit, it's been pretty fun. One thing that I have not talked about, though, has been why I write what I write. Or for that matter, why I write at all. In order to understand that, it must be answered with a question.

What does it take to write?

Answer: a finger. You don't even need them all! Just one will do. Any one of them, just pick one, and start typing away at your keyboard with it. Write whatever is on your heart with it. That's really all you need.

The reason I write is simply because I can. In starting this blog, I never thought it would gain very many readers. Today, there is a steady following; more than I could have ever imagined. And even still, I'm a blip in the radar of writers out there. According to one site, there are over 126 million blogs out there and still another site said that 18.6 new blog postings go up each second, equalling roughly 1.6 million per day. Consider today's little blog posting one in a million (pun intended)!

I love the readership, so thank you for killing time on my blog today! But what I think I love even more than that is writing itself. This is what I do. This is who I am. This is what I love. But I am not alone.

As I've said before, we each have a story within us itching at the bit to be told. And what I love more than readership, more than writing, and yes, even more than rootbeer, is hearing someone tell their story in their own way. It doesn't take much - really it doesn't! It just takes you, being you, telling the story about how you became you. For those redeemed by the blood of Christ, our story is all the more exciting, and redeeming! We have a message within each of us that far surpasses anything that we could conjure up with human minds or earthly creativity. We have a story that is bigger than us, and is orchastrated by the greatest story-teller of them all! That, my friends, is an epic story, far better than anything off broadway or television or (gasps) JERSEY SHORE!

So tell your story, in the way you write best - whether it be with words or actions, letters or numbers, smiles or grins - and listen to the stories being told every day by every person. By doing this, you get to leave the imprint of who you are and where you've come from on others and get to be molded by the life of those around you as well. It's what makes humans who we are, so go out there and experience story.

And that is why I write!

my small story

here is my small story,

smallest and meekest of all.

some of the details are gory,

and others will enthrall.

it is my small story which i will tell,

with a conclusion that i get to spell.

here is my small story,

smallest and meekest of all.

and if you look closely at my story,

you'll find it was HIS glory, strongest of all!

KB

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the LORD, not for men." - Colossians 3:23

Afloat Between Two Powers

Out on the sea

Between the US and Cuba

Was a small boat, tiny and wee

That would cause a lot of hoop-la

On the radars it appeared

Not too far, closing in near-

A little boat on the sea.

The U.S. thought it was Castro’s

And demanded answers.

Cuba thought America was the maestro

With their imperialism spreading like cancer!

Neither side was too happy

Thinking the other side was attacking

With this little boat on the sea.

Hail the Chief and commission the ships-

Today we go to war!

And the Cubans got a tip

That this was reality, not just lore.

So it was off to fight

Which put both sides in a fright

Over a tiny boat on the sea.

The missiles were armed,

The muzzles were pointed,

Waiting for the other to disarm

But both were disjointed.

They stood their ground

With what they found-

A little boat on the sea.

Said both sides:

“Hold it men,

Now’s our time

To pay them back times ten

For they really drew the line!

They think they’re hot stuff

But we’ve had enough

With this little boat on the sea.”

However, right before they fought,

Out there between the U.S. and Cuba

They saw on this boat they’d both sought

An immigrant man with a tuba!

He played it well to the fleets (which he did not notice,)

A small, bald, Russian man named Otis

Out on his little boat on the sea.

Both sides sat so intent and listened

That they totally forgot why they were there.

So even though their missiles gleamed and pistols glistened,

Neither side seemed to care.

They shrugged and went back home that night

It just wouldn’t make sense to fight

Over a little boat on the sea.

Ode to My Bad Day

GOD, you know what is just right

in every corner of my life

and as i struggle with all my might

to rise above my strife

on eagle's wings you set me aflight

and we fly above the choas.

on days, my job is such a mess

with impatiences and stress

i get a pain in my eye

and the swelling makes me look like george takei!

i'm irritated and fuming

in a world of endless sueing!

i cannot even drive peacefully

because i always fell like a piece of me

wants to jump out of the car

and hit the drivers with an iron bar.

this feels wrong in my heart

but it just won't part.

what's wrong here?

you know that pain you get in your neck

that hurts when you flex

all because an annoying pest

steals you away from your bliss?

yeah i have that right now.

it seems that even the church

seems to make it hurt

with its sometimes boring tidings

and ever present tithings.

from our hope, it's stealing

instead of healing.

but these things aren't the point

even if they make us out of joint.

in the end it's GOD's heart that rules

and HE'll give us the tools

to rise above the mire

and fly above it higher.

and as for our trash,

GOD recycles it and turns it into our mast

.....to sail stronger than we did

..........the day before.

KB

(Um, this is George Takei, Trek fans)