Tales from Destin: Wrist Strap

My new camera dared me to attempt using it. What if I did something wrong setting it up?

My younger cousin Will was not daunted, "It's easy. Just put in batteries and the memory card and take pictures!"

"But the instructions haven't told me to do that yet!" I said. Then I carefully read to put in the batteries and memory card.

A few moments later, "Who uses a wrist strap? And why are you taking so much time putting it on?"

"The instructions told me to put it on! It's got to be important if they have instructions for it!"

Wrong Door

Oh, hello there. I didn't hear you come in. Well, come in, come in. Sit down.

Let me tell you a story. This happened about ten years ago. Now, Jim was a little wet behind the ears back then. Well, anyway, one day he says to me-- What's that? You were just looking for the bathroom and you must've taken the wrong door?

Oh, yes, you'll be wanting the third door on the left. Yessir, that'll get you to where you need to be. When you're done, maybe you'll come back and I'll tell you about ol' Jim. No? Well, okay.

nEuRotIC #1: Uncontrollable Urge

Dear Internet

Dear Internet,

It's been a great ride, hasn't it? We had some good times. Remember "All Your Base"?

That's partly why I'm writing you, Internet. It used to just be you and me. We had all sorts of inside jokes that only you and me got. You were a haven for me from the outside world.

But now, everyone's on you, Internet! Everyone and their mother . . . everyone and my mother! Now it's just as embarrassing to be a geek on you as it is in real life!

It was a good run, Internet. Sorry it didn't last.

Best of luck,
~Eric

Divine Encouragement

Special one, why the frown?
Don't let life get you down.
Sure, things don't look so hot.
You'd rather be where you're not.
But smile, special one. Smile.
I know you haven't in a while.
Your heart aches; lonely and sad.
But trust me when I say, "Be glad."
You are my special one; mine alone.
Now soften your heart from stone.
Trust in me; in love divine.
My special one, you will shine.
And then you will finally see
What it means to be loved by me.

Victorian Sensibilities

"You’re a woman, right?" Greg asked with incredulity.

"I think so," Susan muttered.

"Okay, then maybe you can help me. See, I tried to ask Mary out on a date—well not really a date—just coffee, and she just wouldn’t give me a straight answer."

"Mary is a fairly old-fashioned type of girl. It is possible that you violated her Victorian sensibilities, you know?" Susan offered.

"Victorian sensibilities? I don’t want to consider Victorian sensibilities! That’s not how I sensibilitate. I’m a modern man with modern sensibilities. Sensibilities like complete masculine inability and self-worthlessness. Victorian nothing."

"Sorry. Can’t help you."

The Unihump Heart

"Can I interest you in our Valentine's Day clearance items?" the clerk said with fake enthusiasm.

Bill was caught off guard and stood puzzled for a moment, "It's nearly April, but I guess I could buy a small surprise for my wife. Do you have any heart-shaped candy boxes?"

"Well, we are sold out of the traditional 'two-hump' hearts. But we do still have a considerable amount of unihump hearts left." The clerk forced a smile.

"It's an upside-down raindrop."

"No! It's a unihump heart. The unihump symbolizes the . . . one-ness . . . of the love you have . . . Yeah, okay, it's an upside-down raindrop."

~~~~
I better get a bunch of royalties for this when the unihump heart catches on. Here is just one great example of how awesome these can be. How better to express your love than with a unihump heart?

The Tree by the River

I sat alone, alongside a muddy riverbank,
Underneath the shade of an old twisted tree;
Its roots spread wide and were firmly grounded.
And I wished I was that tree.

Instead I am chaff on the wind, blown to and fro.
Everything leaves me, like the waters rushing by.
There only for a moment, and then gone forever.
Friends forsake me. Enemies strike me down.
And I cannot tell which is which anymore,
Or even if there is a difference, or if I care.
The lines have been blurred. All is uncertain.
White and black mixed into unsightly gray.
My heart is taken and crushed time after time.
I cry out to the Lord, "Make me this tree,"
But there is no answer, so I sit and consider.

Are they friends who falsely accuse?
Are they friends who believe without question?
If I have erred, let me know and I will amend.
If I have sinned, let me know and I will repent.
Why then am I continued to be held in contempt?
What more can be demanded of me than perfection?
I am wronged by friends who are my enemies,
But I will continue to love and pray for them.
I am brought low, even to the depths of Hell,
But I will continue to hope they will be friends again.
And what is this but to try and demonstrate
Just a fraction of what God has done for me.
For when I falsely accused him, he bore a cross.
When I held him in contempt, he wore thorns as a crown.
When I was his enemy, he died for me.
When all hope was lost, he continued to live.

As I consider this, I still feel like chaff;
No firm direction, no understanding of what I am.
Who am I? What do I want for myself?
I desire not riches, or glory, or fame.
I desire not prestige, honor, or acclaim.
I simply desire to stop wandering without aim.
I desire a place of rest, a place to stand firm.
To stand firm like the tree I sat under,
And I looked up and saw the tree as it really was:
Gnarled and knotted, weather-beaten and bent.
And I realized I already was the tree,
And I was content.

Scab

I keep picking at this scab,
Wondering why it won't heal,
Knowing very well it's because
I keep picking at this scab.

Why can't I stop?
Why can't I just leave it alone?
Why won't it heal?
Why won't I allow it to heal?
Why do I keep picking at this scab?

It's worse now than when
It was simply a wound.
It began to heal.
It covered itself up.
I could have been done with it
If I just didn't pick at the scab.

Now it's a habit.
I pick at it without even knowing.
I don't even let it scab over anymore.
Constant. Incessant.
I just want to stop.

I just want to stop.

My Prayer

I pray for the rain
To wash me away
Take the stain of my life
Take it away
Take my sorrow and sadness
And make it no more
Into pure white
Forever more

I pray for the rain
And it doesn't come
A little bit longer
I still see the sun
Waiting for thunder
And lightning strike
To illuminate
An eternal light

I pray for the rain
And I close my eyes
Imagine a world
Not steeped in lies
A world free
Of hate and disdain
Washed clean by
The falling rain