Author: saltysappy

Earthly Learning

We’re all enrolled. 7+ billion people on the earth and most don’t even know the plan. Earth is our institution to test us for a higher education, but so many of us seem to fail at the simplest of things.

Follow the Father and we’ll be blessed on high. Stay straight in His ways and He shall not lead us astray. Listen to the quiet voice of the Spirit; you cannot hear him in a cacophony.

“Praise Him with tongues!” It’s so loud I cannot hear.

“Praise Him with drums!” It’s so loud I cannot hear.

“Praise Him with shouts!” It’s so loud I cannot hear.

If we cannot hear, then how will we learn?

Search for Him in the quiet of the morning. Listen for Him in the heights of the mountains. Call for Him in the depth of the valley, where never a person has tread the ground.

Call for him in the heart of the forest. Listen for Him in the stirrings of your heart. Search for Him in the quiet of the morning, and maybe then will you hear Him reply.

We are all enrolled, but not many of us listen. This teacher thinks it’s best not to shout aloud. He’ll just stand there patiently waiting until we decide to stop making much sound.

Via Daily Post- Enroll

Brewing Storm

I feel like I’m about to break.

I really feel like I’m about t–

I cannot permit it.

My baby left this morning and I won’t see her until the end of the week.

6 days to break.

6 days of heartache.

I cannot permit it.

My mind likes to stay occupied when it’s under duress. I write (as I write) and I work (with my hands, not my heart). I miss my darling but I cannot break down. I write to distract myself.

On the surface I look calm but underneath I am in turmoil. Peace is not in the waters. A storm is brewing.

Hurricane Addison, tempest mental.

I cannot permit it.

I cannot pe–

— cannot permit —

I — permit it.

Via Daily Post- Permit

Voice on the Phone

The current call center I work for is a dungeon. No windows to the outside, two fifteen minute breaks, and thirty minutes for lunch. No personal phones, books, pens, or any way to take notes for anything.

We deal with confidential information.

I can’t even write, and just that is hell enough.

Were instructed to sympathize with our customers and make sure that they’re taken care of. “No reason for a callback!” That’s the idea of it. I understand the sentiment, so I follow it.

I like working with people and I love solving problems. Put me in a room with 200 crying people and I’ll tend to every one of them. If they’re angry, I’ll still make sure that their issues are solved. I don’t want them to yell anymore.

I really don’t.

“Listen to me! I’ve talked with 5 people on the phone already and there’s no way that YOU will fix my problem!”

Thank you for having faith in me.

“Before you talk, let me speak with a supervisor, now!”

Thank you for believing in me.

“Why don’t you just speed through the verbatim? Yes, yes, YES! I agree! MOVE ON!”

Thank you for getting me fired.

I’m told to sympathize, to be patient, to be understanding. I am; and in turn I get beat up, spat upon, and expected to clean shoes with my tongue.

I am the voice on the phone that asks what you need.

I am human. I have a wife. I have a home that I want to go to every night, knowing that at least someone loves me.

Please consider me.

Via Daily Post- Sympathize

Mad as a Hatter

There’s a woman that I love. I lay with her every night. We tell each other about our hopes, our dreams, and everything in between, and then we fall asleep.

My dreams torment me until I awake.

I find myself grasping for the heart beating beside me. Two hearts beating, but one of them feels broken. Hers is pure and steady; mine is erratic and staccato.

I remember the days I betray her. I focus on something so unimportant and so horrific that I can’t even look myself in the mirror. Blank eyes stare out at a broken soul that’s crying to get out.

When will I stop the torment? When will I say “enough is enough?”

I say it every day. I forget.

She has a hard time forgiving because her soul is completely open to me. I hold it, cradle it, and find my fingers crushing it before I realize the pain that is being caused. There are times when I feel like I can’t forgive myself, but I have to or else my baby will have no one to lie down with.

My mind is puzzled; the pieces are there but scattered to the winds. All of me loves her, but some of the pieces are upside down or flipped around completely. I’m scrambling to put them together. It is never fast enough.

Why do we hurt the people we love? Why do I say “I love you,” then turn around and bite her?

It’s a mad world they say. I think that they are right.

They say that I’m mad.

Mad as a hatter.

I can’t even fit the pieces right.

Via Daily Post- Puzzled

Public Practice

I mean it!

Promiscuity is taken for granted and teenagers haunt the scenes in droves, pushed on by the media hand. Agendas of a new world are touted until they’re agreed on as the status quo.

Lookup “teenager” on the news. Notice the underlying message saying “Crime, sex, and lack of decency.” The profuse show off non-morality is astonishing.

Young adults reach out with bleeding arms saying “save me from myself, I know not what I do.” They learn from others who learn from more, who lead the herd.

Adults reach out with cut-off tongues saying “I want to help, but I cannot speak. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” They say this to children who already hurt, who are only asking for reprieve.

Everyone reaching out with broken hearts saying “we are blind and in pain. Who will help us?” They forget the voice of their Father and follow the voices of the blind among them.

The world is broken and haunted by the dead. People saying “don’t follow me” from their grave. Tombstones reading “turn back. The next step is death.” Spirits profusely apologizing for their wrong deeds and examples, but no living bodies can hear them.

If only they knew. If only we knew.

Via Daily Post- Profuse

Silent Scream

It’s a world that constantly moves. Everyone is on their own conveyor belt and no one has time to stop. Phones in hand and faces to the screen.

Poor little girl. She keeps holding out her hands to her mommy, calling out “I need you, I need you!” She doesn’t hear and stands still. The conveyor moves her mother along. The girl doesn’t know that she can run to mother. She never gave her little girl the opportunity to learn.

Poor little boy. He keeps throwing the baseball to his friend, but his friend doesn’t throw it back. He just lets it sit next to him and decides that the web is more interesting, more engaging. Why throw a ball when you can watch it on TV? It’s less work and far less tiring.

Poor wife. She keeps holding out her hands to her husband, calling out “I need you, I need you!” He hears her but doesn’t seem to care. Why would he need her if he has his business and personal screen? Money, distractions, check, check. Someone who needs attention.. It’s too much effort.

Poor husband. He keeps holding out his hands to his ex-wife, saying “I need you now, I need you.” She hears him but doesn’t care. Why bother with the hurt? The phone that she hated so much is now her lover, her friend. Why go back to the man who cheated on her?

Poor people in a poor world. It’s a world that constantly moves. Everyone is on their own conveyor belt and no one has time to stop. Phones in hand and faces to the screen.

All in a silent scream.

via Daily Post: Conveyor