9/11 Remembering

Eagles weep the dust of fury

            Glory droops in a breeze filled sky

Trumpets howl forth silence

            Blind eyes gaze on dust and pry

Paradox rains upon sweltering souls

            Discordant melodies find no harmonic tone

Sleeping giants fail to wake

Dreams of horror in daylight come

Restrained talons seek to rip

            Flesh and bone. Retribution wails

Bridled shouts from viper lips           

             Broken tongues speechless, still

Such foreign chaos, grief born questions

            Here rests doubt, fear rooting

Anger to pain beget rage

Tearing fabric, destroying the shoot

A blast through heart’s cage

            Cries, screams and eternal rage

Why! Demands our soul

            Why? Defiant voices entreat

Into this realm of despair

            Touching sinew of exposed hope

Lifting corpse-like remains

            Our Hope stands, lifted hands

In a speechless voice the whisper comes

            Gentle words rock our perilous stance

Words carefully spoken, deeply heard

            Faith, Hope, Love the memory calls

Again, glorious birds will find their songs

            Heavy banners will lift in a gentle breeze

Clarion call of brass sounds, proclaims

            Life has come and still remains

-Kim E Williams

September 12, 2001

JustSaying

Sometimes the appropriate response to reality is to go insane. - Philip K. Dick

Emotions Make for Bloody Poetry!

Yesterdays deeds descend on raptors wings

talons flare and slice into my mind

tearing through the carefully constructed facade of hope

i bleed, into tomorrow

ancestoral wounds reopen with vengence

defecting logic and maming reason

proclaiming the torment of self loathing valid

i bleed, drip with sorrow

(re-post from some time in 2002)

Re-post and Finale' - Sunday Coffee Cup

The following was the first Sunday Coffee Cup post. I have been considering ending the series (mainly because I have already told all of my mug stories), and it seems fitting that as my sister was the subject of the first post - her passing this past week should be the occasion for my last Sunday Coffee Cup post.


You can read them all here. So, please settle in and enjoy how this all began and know this will be the last weekly post of the Sunday Coffee Cup. I'm sure a significant mug may find it's way into my life and end up here sporadically...however, here's the ending as it was the beginning...

We all have them stashed and stacked in the cabinet. Why do we collect so many coffee mugs and cups? Some are little more than clutter. A plastic memento of a meaningless event or casual encounter with a random company. Yet, for me, what I see when I reach for a Sunday morning cup for my coffee is a cupboard full of significant life moments, memories of time well sent and people kindly known. My Sunday morning coffee cup selection is never really casual. Each time I choose a mug, I'm choosing to remember and reconnect with a segment of my life.

It seems selfish to keep all of these moments to myself, so each Sunday I'll plan on posting a Sunday Coffee Cup photo and story. Enjoy this inaugural post.

My Sister - Burp!

It was Christmas of 1999. I was just months past my departure from the ordained ministry, my spirit and my life still reeling from the trauma of personal burnout. Finances were bottomed out. I was working my first 'sales' job and beginning what would become a new career chapter. It was one of those life moments when all I had of certainty and peace was each emotion filled moment, each small rational choice and a tenuous faith that somehow God would see me through.

The trip to Myrtle Beach, SC for our extended family Christmas gathering was tentative, lacking in joy and confidence. There were to be few gifts given, few life accomplishments to celebrate. Enter my sister.

My sister is, and mostly has been throughout her life, a mess. Sometimes that 'mess' was of the playful, mischievous childhood variety of 'mess.' A mess you find yourself admiring for tenacity, boldness and undaunted determination. Sometimes my sister's 'mess' was more of the personal life catastrophe variety. Bad choices, bad timing, bad comrades and all in the worst possible order. Mt sister was going through a 'mess' of the second variety in 1999. She was, simply put, in worse shape than I was - at least it looked like it from the outside looking in.

That year, my sister took the time and a few of her very limited dollars and bought me a Christmas present. She gave me a perfectly selected mug. When I unwrapped it, the crass imprint on the outside and the playful lettering inside the rim gave me pause. The I felt a giggle forming deep inside, a giggle that begin to bubble up into a joyous laugh.

Now, years and gallons of coffee later, I still cherish this bold, playful, timely and loving gift. It makes my Sunday cup of coffee perfect. Thanks Sis!

NOTE: My sister died 5/12/12. I'll miss her. RIP Pam.

Pamela Earl Stafford - Grief

In the middle of it...

Miss you Sis.

Pamela Earl Stafford: May 25, 1952 - May 12, 2012

Grieving. 

Murrells Inlet, SC

Pamela Earl Stafford, 59, passed away peacefully in her sleep May 11, 2012.  She was born May 25, 1952 in Newport, Rhode Island to her joyful parents William Earl Williams and Claudia Elizabeth (Lib) Williams.  She was predeceased by her father the late William Earl Williams. The worldly phase of her life concluded during the quiet moments of her sleep on May 11, 2012.  Her strong will, wistful nature, and loving spirit are already missed among her family, friends, and colleagues. 

Pam Stafford became a Registered Nurse in Florida in the 1970s.  Throughout her years of nursing she was loved and respected by the patients and the families that she touched as well as the physicians who depended on her. As a friend or a colleague you were sure to laugh, cry and learn with her. Her path in nursing offered her many experiences and was part of her heart.  She nursed in Florida, South Carolina, Arizona, New Jersey, New Mexico and the US Virgin Islands.

She was an open minded soul who loved the Native American culture, the desert, animals, (especially her dog Sammy), music, bike week and experiencing life in her own way.  As a mother and a grandmother she was not what most would say is “conventional” but her children and grandchildren would have had it no other way. She loved to laugh and play and do things with her children that were fun and memorable yet she taught them lessons by example as well as by affording them “protected” independence so that they could grow and become strong individuals.  She lived her life “Pam’s way” and those of us who know her would not have had her any other way.

  Although her time with us has passed so quickly, our loss can be lessened in the comfort that she is peaceful with God and we know his staff has received a bold and courageous addition.

She is survived by her mother, Elizabeth Benton Cox and her husband, Esters; her grandmother, Mrs. Horry (Lucille) H. Benton of Murrells Inlet; her son, Everett Stafford and his wife, Danielle, of Sugar Land, TX; her daughter, Lisa Norton and her husband, Greg, of Rock Hill, SC; her two brothers, Jan Williams of High Point, NC and Kim Williams and his wife, Gail, of Winston-Salem, NC; and four sisters, Linda Pervis of Florence, SC; Susan Craven and her husband, Kenneth, of Marion, SC; Janet Schultz and her husband, Bill, of Florence, SC; and Deborah Mixon of Florence, SC.  She also leaves with love five grandchildren: Chris, Kyle, and Zack Stafford, Brittany Heid, and Daniel Norton and one great-grand child, Branton Heid.  

A Memorial Service will be held at 10:00 AM, Thursday, May 17, 2012 at McMillan-Small Funeral Home with the Rev. Bruce Crawford officiating.   A visitation will follow the service at the funeral home.  

Memorials may be made to the Myrtle Beach Humane Society, 3241 10th Ave. North, Myrtle Beach, SC 29577 or the charity of one’s choice.  

Delta Scared Me - Clockwork Orange Style

I flew Delta this past week and now I'm afraid of Lincoln , esurance and Fairfield. Here's how it happened.

Delta Airlines Flight Safety Video

During the take-off taxi, we were shown 3 advertisements prior to the safety video - Lincoln, esurance and Fairfield Inn. I get that. Airlines aren't able to make enough money on the ticket prices, so a little advertising revenue here and there is necessary. Then, right after take-off, but before the "you may now use your portable electronic devices" announcement, the video screens fired up again and showed us the same three ads. I tried to turn off the screen glaring at me from the headrest of the seat in front of me, but NOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I was a captive audience. Then it occurred to me - I was living a "Clockwork Orange" moment (if you are too young to know the movie reference, leave this post now and go watch the film. It's historically significant... well to my history, anyway.)

1971 A Clockwork Orange

Here's the rub, take-off is one of the most tense moments in the flying experience. Anyone who has given any thought to the process knows that if something goes wrong during those first few minutes of take-off - it is bad (we're talking THE END bad). So, if you want to program me to associate stress with your product or brand, show it to me when I'm at one of the most stressful moments of my travels. I had this same experience on my return flight as, well. Same timing. Same brands.

Thanks Delta. Thanks Lincoln, esurance and Fairfield. I now can't drive a Lincoln, insured by esurance to my meeting at the Fairfield without a nagging feeling that I might crash and die.

*Note - the limo that took me from the airport to the resort and back was - you guessed it - a Lincoln. I'm scarred for life.

My Life is Waffle House?!

It is very interesting what one can learn from listening.

Photo via Old Shoe Woman

I treated my appetite and ignored my need for low a cholesterol diet (shhhh! If you don’t tell my doctor, it doesn’t count), and had breakfast at WaffleHouse recently.

Karen is in her mid thirties, has two children and hates it when her kids stay home for snow days. She drives an older Nissan. She has a small space between her two front teeth that she tries to hide by rolling her lip over them when she is laughing. It doesn’t work.

The cook, an all but kid in his twenties, plans to get his GED this year and then study at the community college, or maybe join the Navy. He likes his job, and doesn’t cook rubber eggs. I think that is considered an accomplishment. I know my eggs were very tasty. I think his name is Mack, or Mick. He didn’t have on a name tag.

Betty is clearly the matriarch of the group. She smiles as she listens to the banter of the ‘younger’ staff. She moves effortlessly from one task to the next, often working ahead of the others. She greets regulars by their first name, or with a knowing nod. Her under the cuff comments to the others often brings a smile or a giggle. Betty is, and wants to be the Queen of the WaffleHouse.

As I sat at the counter, eating my cheese eggs, grits and butter soaked raisin toast, gazing at the laminated menu pictures of the many heart-stopping, artery clogging, cholesterol enhanced foods, this thought crossed my mind: Is there really a difference between any of our lives, other than the package that our life might reside in?

IF, by Rudyard Kipling

One of my favorite, all time poems is "If" by Rudyard Kipling. I was introduced to this verse early in life, and the words have always challenged me to be more, risk boldly and balance my living more evenly between the elation and despair dished out by life's moments. Enjoy (for those of you would are "Pinterested" - I've included an image below).

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:


If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:


If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!


-Rudyard Kipling

Source: media.photobucket.com via Kim on Pinterest

Sunday Coffee Cup – The Good Stuff

I remember clearly as a child, that I had two kinds of shoes: my everyday shoes and my Sunday shoes. The Sunday shoes were the ones I wore to church each week and to any special ‘dress up’ occasions. I suspect we all have special shoes or other items that see use only at certain times – dishes, for instance. On a normal day we go to the cabinet and grab any old plate, bowl or cup. On special days, we get out the good stuff – silver flatware, china plates and even cloth napkins.

I was no more than 11 and spending the day down the road playing at a friend’s home. It was getting late and near suppertime. My friend’s mother asked if I wanted to stay for dinner, and I declined. When she asked why I told her, “I’d better go home for dinner. Mom’s planning something special – she’s using cloth napkins and everything!” My mother loves to tell this story, because she was in fact, not planning anything special. She has always enjoyed the simple pleasures of life and believes that from time to time we should bring out the good stuff – just because - and enjoy it ourselves. That brings us to today’s Sunday Coffee Cup.

Allow me to introduce you to our wedding china. Today I’m having coffee with “the good stuff” and by that I mean more than the good china. I’m sipping wedding memories and sacred thoughts about love, marriage and the most wonderful woman I know – my wife. That makes for a fine cup of coffee.

Sunday Coffee Cup - Enduring Pottery

Earthen, grounded, primal and essential are all words I think of when I encounter pottery. The connection between potter and medium is the creation moment. Dripping earth, turning upon the wheel, yielding to the slightest touch or brushing stroke of artist colliding with possibility – this is the moment I see in every piece of pottery.

There is something more substantial in a pottery mug. The weight of it and the irregularities of shape and color demand that each piece be seen and treated as individual. Pottery seems never to disconnect with its origins. No matter how finely shaped, painted or glazed, just the substantial feel of the pottery cup in my hands reminds me that it came from that particular combination of earth and craft. This morning’s Sunday Coffee Cup holds the honor of being the longest surviving piece of hand crafted pottery in my home.

It was a gift from my days as a pastor and has traveled between parsonages and offices; always radiating warmth to my hands as they clasped around its solid coil. It has held coffee, tea and the hopes and fears of a young pastor trying to make a difference. It's listened to people’s secrets and the rhythm of a daisy wheel printer typing out sermons. This potter's cup has seen months of daily use and adoration and has spent its time gathering dust on bookshelves and holding unused pens. It has survived moving boxes and the division of marital goods. Somehow, it remained in an unassuming fashion, waiting patiently for its turn to be held and used – to serve its quiet and steady purpose – solid, earthen, and primal is this cup.

It is amazing, warmed by the brew it holds today, cradled between my hands, all that this Sunday Coffee Cup holds for me.