THIRD, My Confidence in the Gifts of the SPIRIT —
Women see each other
Once we realize we’ve been taught to judge ourselves against one other
We just stop
Women watch and wait for the signals we send
With our eyes and stances,
Phrasing and pitch and pointed glances
When we glean that things
Are out of step, we step in, up, and forward –
Wardens of our personage
Aren’t you beautiful, love
Who checks to see if I am good before walking on –
Call this something like a song
SECOND, My Authority to Write on Behalf of the Spirit –
And just who might I be, to claim Authority of my own Word?
Truly, one who is instructed by the SPIRIT to do so.
It is the Word of my Testimony which gives me license to write freely,
Because the LORD knows my intents as well as my shortcomings,
And still the SPIRIT enlivens my hands to tell the Whole Truth.
I wonder, as one might who makes a living by writing:
How many drafts did Matthew go through?
And how many scribes might he have employed?
I am no copyist; I am an Author –
A call I have always feared,
For it is the SPIRIT’s own Craft I wield.
I did not understand my role at the start,
But Grace has been a good shepherd through age.
I am not yet wise, though I do actively aim to be kinder;
Because I recognize my Word has power,
I strive to raise chins and meet eyes
So others know I mean them no harm
When my language fails to rise to the *Occasion.
Isn’t it true that I am called to give Testimony?
For what purpose otherwise am I baptized in the WORD?
Some will definitely hear this work and shake their heads,
But then this message isn’t meant for them;
I write because it is the mode the LORD chose,
Bestowed to me with Purpose in mind:
How to describe what it’s like –
Inviting the divine SPIRIT inside –
So my skeptic neighbor who thinks my ‘faith’ or ‘religion’ are well and fine
For me, but believes there’s no Science in it;
The SPIRIT didn’t charge me with convincing others of my Existence,
But said to do good in his NAME and to go tell of it.
I am urged to write by the same SPIRIT who stirs the sermons,
Where many of late have squirmed in their seats
Leaving confused and discomforted.
They are restless with repentance and none the wiser,
Mixed-up with a sense of missed context,
But unable to put their finger on Why.
Right and Wrong are not expository facts,
But become known through resolution:
Plucking Scripture from its place is therefore
As well as tasteless,
Because it robs the audience of the Whole Truth –
A lot of folks don’t know what prompted the SPIRIT to say
‘This, that, and the other’
But rather trust Pastors and Leaders who read the WORD more
To provide meaningful summary and draw conclusions
Rooted in relevant Evidence from the Bible.
I write to remind You of LIVING TRUTH:
Even so withheld in our Versions,
The WORD is Unbound:
I am writing Now.
———–END (Part 2 of 7)———–
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THIRD, My Confidence in the Gifts of the Spirit –
———–(Soon To Follow)———–
So help me LORD,
I wish to do you Justice in the telling.
Will you please lead my keystrokes
So I might do Just that?
FIRST, My Testimony of the Spirit –
My name is Kailey Ann, and I am Saved.
I am Saved by the Spirit of Jesus,
Who over the course of Three Key Events1.) 2.) 3.)
Made me just as I am.
At age Eleven I ‘Prayed the Prayer’ toward the end of one Sunday Evening Message,
Holding a hardback copy of Order of the Phoenix on my lap.
I said to the LORD, “Please come into my life and make me more like you,”
But I didn’t look up when Pastor Eddy asked me to –
I was afraid – even though I thought I prayed the prayer right,
I didn’t wanna admit how many times I’d prayed it already in my life –
Always wondering whether it counted if
I doubted right away
Or if I kept asking for Proof.
I was Baptized in 2006 right after my little sister –
We got dunked in the Name of the FATHER, SON, and HOLY SPIRIT by Pastor Marion,
Who’d performed my parents’ wedding ceremony that very same school year.
I was wearing a maroon gown which could’of fit three of me,
And a silver cross necklace my Mom put around my neck that morning,
And my hair was in a ponytail because it always was –
I tried not to feel shame about the fact that I was older,
And my little sister was getting dunked first –
My parents said being Baptized was my choice,
And I’d said, “If she’s ready, I am!”
Because I Twelve and not ‘Out’
And I could not bear the secrecy
Of seeming Unsure whether I was Saved
In July of 2008, It Happened:
I spent the summer saving money so I could go to Supercamperific,
And my Mom spotted me half the funding I needed to go because
She loves me, and Thirteen isn’t old enough to make minimum wage.
At the tail-end of Pastor Terry’s first Evening Message, he explained:
“Salvation is a Gift: All you have to do is take it.”
And then, Out of Nowhere –
Terry Foster called My Name:
“Kailey, would you come up here for a minute?”
The Camp Nawakwa amphitheater
At McCormick’s Creek was abuzz –
I stood in front a great sum of campers,
Joined my church camp pastor center-stage,
And he held out his hand:
And I saw –
In his upturned palm:
A face – Sakakawea smiling:
Her eyes flashed:
And Terry said to Me so All could hear:
“It’s a Gift: All you have to do is take it.”
So I did * I have this token of Wisdom with me always, wherever I go.
———–END (Part 1 of 7)———–
SECOND, My Authority to Write on Behalf of the Spirit –
———–(Soon To Follow)———–
Hey Y’all ✌️
Writing Mily’s story has truly been one of the biggest joys of my life. The level of engagement I’ve seen from new and established readers of mine is encouraging in a way I don’t know how to express. I know I’ve been tossing out “coming soons” for months now, and I appreciate those who are sticking with me despite the wait. I hope beyond hope when you are finally able to read the whole story, you’ll feel the wait was worth it.
So much of what held me up during this project is self doubt. I’ve never wanted to be anything but a writer (except when I wanted to be a paleontologist when I was 5), so as the social landscape has started changing so radically over the last few years, there were a few times I admit I was afraid. Cancel Culture is an enemy of mine; I don’t believe in it one bit. That’s not to say we shouldn’t call out the evils in our world and work to make life better for our communities, but when cancelling begins, the lines blur. The standards for some are not the same for others. As a person who was forever impacted by stories like Harry Potter, I feared what would happen if I put my words to paper and made a mistake out of ignorance or arrogance or really anything. I analyzed my views in every facet of my life to death. I considered the good and bad I’ve done and how to speak truth through fiction in a way that stays; I want to write evergreen, but more and more it feels like the standards change on a daily basis. I started to think that I needed to have it all figured out, know my spirit inside and out, in order to be sure I was doing good work, sowing healing and not strife with my words.
Mily has helped me see and grow beyond that. And now that I’m so, SO close to finishing this project, Mily’s bravery is strengthening me and giving me courage. So here is what I want my existing and future readers to know…
My work won’t be perfect because I am imperfect. But my intent with this project was to listen, reflect, and shed light on the great insights that children have every day. This is a story about an eight year old girl, and while I have made every effort for it to be something a child could pick up and read and be unharmed, the intended audience is not kids—it’s adults of all ages. I have faith in Mily, and no matter what the world may think of her, she will always be my hero. Without discovering her, the last few years would have been much harder and sadder for me. She is my little light, and I’m gonna let her shine.
Chapter 4 introduces an idea I’ve been afraid to share, but no more. If Mily could live it then I can share it. All I want is to make art that is better than me, and I feel I’m getting closer. I am filled with hope for that, anyway ✨
Next week I’ll have more to put out there. In a few after that, it’ll all be out there in the light of day. Yay 😁
Here’s III. Upturned 🤟
Searching for Mean ~
How hard is it to turn a (-) into a (+)?
1.) A positive times a positive is Positive.
2.) A negative times a negative is Positive.
3.) A positive times a negative is Negative;
4.) the Reverse is true also.
The Vertex is Zero:
(-)(+) | (+)(+)
– – – -0- – – – –
(-)(-) | (-)(+)
(I) is a Variable.
(I) has a Value of X.
(I) is Imaginary.
(I) is Real.
(I) is an Integer
X is Wide.
Y is High.
Dimension is the In-Between.
Somewhere in what’s matter is Me.
Where are the Crossroads,
And what’s the view northeast of There?
* * * * *
@ b y k a i l e y a n n
A poem inspired by a true story as told by Dog
My dad Dog used to tell me ‘The Rain Bull Story’
So called for one who in his day outstood,
“No way to move a bull that dudn’t want to go,”
Dog’d go on and say so I’d see it plain:
A bull-headed sun-of-a-gone
Good stubborn spirit hooves-planted in the mud
While the clouds climbed closer over pasture,
“Standoff’s what e’s after,
Make or break because you cain’t outwait
A bull who dudn’t want to move.”
Whence the name, ole bull stayed
All my life later and still I can picture those
Obstinate cow knees, crystal torrents for horns
Dripping tail swishing surety and sense
Steady, center-placed inside the fence
Might as well and kind as thunder
Stern-gazed, chin raised, just watching
Drop by drop till the Rain Bull
Was good’n ready to be on his own way.
A poem about some precious metal items I kept from my grandmothers’ things ~
I take keepsakes
Retouch and arrange tarnished metal things
A little silver bell
Brown since well before I knew
A sterling finish doesn’t stay
If it sits unused
A Goodacre Dollar
Obverse face dated
An experimental wash
Wears the surface like varnished brass
Engraved in gold
A fleuron shining on
Save for teatime
All June’s life
All inside a drawstring pouch
Baby-blue velvet tucked in
A bright black-spotted kettle
I’ll never use to pour or brew
On account of how the metal smells
Still of Marlboro Reds
Even filled to the brin with White
Sage potpourri ~
Euchre Pips Designed by @demurgic_perception
Spades – Nine, Ten, Jack, Queen, King, Ace
Hearts – Nine, Ten, Jack, Queen, King, Ace
Clubs – Nine, Ten, Jack, Queen, King, Ace
Diamonds – Nine, Ten, Jack, Queen, King, Ace
Another poem about Indiana (sort of). Exploring the theme of “coming home” for #MilytheMillennial
I don’t mind finding reasons to talk about home,
in fact it’s how I pay mind to the things that matter most
being born someplace battles with being from somewhere –
I learned a little later that I was a boilerplate hoosier
of the most Leslie Knope sense of belonging somewhere.