I’ll Tell the Tale (part 2)

11 comments
A Story, living, writing

If you could see, right now, the vision before me, I wouldn’t feel inclined to tell ya about it. I mean, really, it’s another rather “duh Darlene” moment, isn’t it?

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vl3 SDMy vantage point is thus: I’m sittin’ on a small couch that my husband and I were given in-trade for building my sister a porch because her singlewide trailer stoop wasn’t big enough for her to maneuver upon with an armload of groceries, let alone a newborn in a car seat. This piece of furniture is as ugly as the day is long; the foam parts of the cushions poke out the original coverings (just like they did sixteen years ago when it was given to us) so the whole she-bang is topped with a now-threadbare slipcover, but ever since Christmas day, the sit down and lean on parts have been draped with a fancy quilt that I reckon was meant to be used as a decorative wall hanging.

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So, what I see as I sit upon my couch and overlook the valley through ginormous windows, is the Pacific Northwest, six o’clock morning moon. It glows with the very same white as it did last night when we sat down to eat vegetable soup and almost nearly burnt breadsticks. These glorious inverted fried egg colors of dawn’s moon mean something to me, and maybe, just maybe they mean something to you as you gaze through a lacy bedroom curtain while your spouse snores beside you, or as you peer through parted mini-blinds over the kitchen sink while coffee perks on the countertop, or maybe you showered through it and didn’t give today’s full moon remnant a wink, nod, or hat-tip.

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Each of our views is different, aye?

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Last week I told ya that I’ve been given an opportunity to tell a story. I have. It’s true.

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Almost as soon as I decided to pen this saga, that ole blasted enemy started to flail about in my head and heart, whispering things that I had no business listening to.

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Oh, would you look at that. The moon has done gone and disappeared, dissipated, and/or dissolved. Either way, poof! – it’s gone. An airplane just streaked across the blue and pink sky canvass and left behind a stringy, gray trail. Long, narrow clouds rest above blackish mountains where trees poke through snow like two day old beard stubble.

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Okay, back to the story about the story. That ole bum-diddly devil’s been talkin’ trash and I’ve been listening. For shame!

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He told me things like:

  • You don’t look and talk like all the other purties out here, so what sorta chance do ya think you have?
  • You don’t have a platform, a logo, a standard profile picture, or a streamlined theme.
  • You are too country.
  • You are too hick.
  • You aren’t slick. Enough.
  • You are plain.
  • Pistol-packin’ mommas are a little scary.
  • Your legs are often hairy.
  • Your floor is concrete and your windows have no trim.
  • You don’t even have an indoor bathtub.
  • You are too feisty.
  • Sometimes you wear your sin-skin too tight.
  • You set the fire alarm off with your cooking at least twice a week.
  • You have no talent.
  • You have nothin’ to say that any reasonable, straight-laced, God-fearing person would wanna read.
  • Put your puny pen down.

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And at about the same time, my internet service went into the pot. Well, really, what happened was that I met my upload and download 30-day quota amount before my new month, so my spectacularly speedy (I lie) and super efficient (I lie, again) rural satellite internet service was dropped to dial-up speed. The normal speed would be reinstated in several days. So, here we are, it’s been several days… and ya know what? I’m fixin’ to show that dastardly devil the working end of my sword. The sword of the Spirit (which is the Word of God).

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It’s the only offensive weapon in the whole armor of God and I’m gonna poke that punk full o’ so many holes he’s gonna squirt like a sieve with no bladder control.

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Basically, he’s gonna pee down his leg whilst I pick up my pen.

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‘Cause I gotta tell a story. It’s nothing new – because there’s nothing new under the sun. Or the moon. So, I aim to tell you ‘bout is His story through me.

Oh, it’s true, God’s redemption story is not exclusive to this countrified nutcase of a girl, it is free for the taking, the accepting, and the acknowledging.

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But, maybe, just maybe, by telling it from my point of view, my thread-bare, slip covered, ugly couch vantage point, my story will demonstrate that even though God is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, each of His children is unique. And loved and valued and purty and worthy.

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So, therefore, as a result, in conclusion, all in all, and blah-blah-ity-blah-blah, like I told ya last week, my story is about God in me. And if that is good enough for the King of kings, it’s good enough for me.

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Looky, looky, the pink has been swallered up by sunshiny blue. Yesterday’s three inches of snow has melted and the trees are naked in their green needles. The clouds have turned to wisps. Frost glitters a little bit on the snow, the fence posts, and yes, even on the frozen lawn fudge on the icy driveway. (fyi: lawn fudge = dog turds)

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If you could see, right now, the vision before me, I wouldn’t feel inclined to tell ya about it.

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* By they way, I’ve been informed that a few blog posts got sent out in the email alert subscription gizmo just a short time ago…These were old blog posts. Why they got re-sent out is a mystery to me. I reckon the blog fairies got bored with my internet inactivity, so they rustled up some moonshine, took to partying in the techno-shadows, flicked and fumbled with the gizmos, and gave ya all a taste of their intoxicated blog fairy escapades. Bad fairies! I’m gonna clip your wings, paint your toenails purple, and kick ya square in your ruffled hind-parts.

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** So, if you know of a doodler, an artist, someone who can sketch me an image of, well, me, then drop me a note, would ya please. I need to be more concise, recognized, uniform, and consistent in my internet presence. Whatever. Dude, I’m not sure if I’m buyin’ what the literary geniuses are sellin’ about being able to build a cage that can contain countrified crazy.

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I’ll Tell the Tale (part 1)

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11 thoughts on “I’ll Tell the Tale (part 2)”

  1. Miss Darlene, don’t you ever give up writing this story. Yeah…those archived posts scared me for a moment. “What? She’s moving again? Oh, no!!!!” I was so relieved when I realized they were old. xox

    • Miss Patricia – Those blog fairies really messed around, aye? Naughty little stinkers.

      Thank you for the wise words too.

      Blessings.

  2. lschontos says:

    It was those exact same things that caused me to stop writing my book ( and I haven’t been able to continue). The enemy tends to use the same sort of thing over and over.
    I am cheering you on friend!!

    • Miss Linda –

      Because you have God in you, you also have the same access to the armor. Wield you pen, sister! I am cheering YOU on.

      Blessings.

  3. Well, the view from here–the receivin’ end of your keyboard looks simply awesome. Had a rare coin once. Didn’t look like much but they said ‘cuz it was one of a kind it was worth a pretty penny. Well, you’re one of a kind — You-nique.

  4. GOD has a story to tell through you and only you can tell it. Remember, any Pharisee could have danced circles around how much Mary Magdalene knew about doctrine and scripture, etiquette and “proper behavior.” But she had seen her risen Lord and nothing could shake that from her as she told her story.

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