My voice calls out.
My mind is fatal.
Lies of doubt.
End it all.
Would the world bother
To clean this wall?
Blood is forever.
Every drop leaves a mark.
It still stains
Even in the dark.
Every choice is hard.
Every life has healing.
Every morning has sun.
Every voice has meaning.
I could stop.
I could fall asleep.
Let darkness creep.
Fall in final leap.
Don’t waste it
Or let the ground taste it
After I faced it
I won’t erase it.
Suicide is a lie. A distraction. An obstacle to reaching the full potential of your human life, just before you achieve enlighment. It is a temptation to abandon all hope. It is an attempt to keep you trapped. But the test is enduring whatever comes next and learning from it. That’s the point from which to return. The very next step is the brilliant embrace of life itself and only good can come from that choice. Love doesn’t come from anyone. You’ll never be good enough. You will never have enough money. You have to love yourself anyway. Even though you don’t deserve it. Because no one does. Don’t you want to know what comes next? There are always options.
If you’re in trouble, or hurt or need-go to the poor people.
They’re the only ones that’ll help-the only ones.
We are not convicted by pastors and preachers. We are not convinced by bible-thumping, church-going and rule-following. We are introduced to the power of Christ over our dinner tables, in our bedrooms, on the street corners. We are tugged at by common images we see over and over that we know and feel deep down are against God’s love. The little girl who is abused, the old man who is cold and alone, the adult who has been abandoned and misguided. We are convicted by hand-holding, grace-giving and life-living. We are not motivated by anger or fear, we are pushed forward by compassion and understanding. We are compelled by the Holy Spirit. His presence in our lives is only possible if we make a home for him. If we clear out the clutter of the world and prepare a place for him to dwell.
Prepare ye the way of the Lord.
Mark 1:3 New Living Translation
He is a voice shouting in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way for the LORD’s coming! Clear the road for him!'”
This can be a metaphor for our lives. Clear the mind, body and soul for him to do his work through us. As Jesus moved through the crowd to perform miracles in his time, he does that now as well. He moves through us, from person to person, performing miracles through the kindness of outreach. His presence is here. His presence is love. We need only open our eyes to it.
God has intention for our lives.
God needs us here for a short time.
Then we can be with Him forever.
This world is not about being happy or rich or self-satisfaction.
We have a purpose.
This life is about reaching others in love with help.
Photo and message by Martha Maggio
Dad did this.
The world did this.
I did this.
Healing. Teaching. Helping.
Holding. Waiting. Loving.
God did this.
It’s a mystery as to why I can’t find a job. Why I would start my own business. What the name of my new party planning pop-up is going to be called.
I wrote this murder mystery and published on Amazon: Updo! Now, I’m going to start hosting this adult role-playing game in my own local community. I’ve already done this with my friends, back in KC. It’s the most fun I’ve ever had at a party. And totally original. I also threw a similar party for my daughter, but age appropriate. They seemed to really like it. It was more of a junior high adventure with clues. I could even write new, customized mysteries for any theme: Western saloon, 50s diner, 40s detective noir.
The mystery for this one is: someone is murdered at a salon and all of the party guests are a character from the story. While relaxing with spa-like activities, the guests participate in clue-revealing sketches. Everyone takes a “stab” (LOL) at guessing who the killer is at the end. There are stations, silliness and a very funny makeup and hair makeover contest for all the ladies.
What should I call my new business?
Martha’s Murder Mysteries?
Pop-up Party Mysteries?
What would you call it? I would love your suggestions!
Thinking about dinner,
They prey on me.
I eat my fear
And pray to thee.
All night long
I steel-steal my brave
Away from teeth
Sweating over my grave.
My muscles hurt
From keeping still.
My mind is drunk
From guarding will.
I haven’t moved.
Their breath on my cheek.
I can feel hair brush me.
This trap is bleak.
This pit is the devil.
But this pit is a chance
To show the power of God
In any circumstance.
And I hold on.
And I wait for dawn.
I know you haven’t gone.
The end isn’t drawn.
And then my rescue from above.
Shouts of tender life-saving love.
Anyone willing to read my play and review on Amazon, House Full of Hope, can have a reblog on my WordPress of your favorite article or publishing of a new piece. The copy is free right now, you can download with no charge. The app to read is always free. You can download on your PC, you don’t need a Kindle.
Or I can create an article graphic for you, free of charge. I will use original graphics or my own photos with permission to use and text for whatever article you have planned and whatever graphic you want to see. I usually create all of my own article graphics from scratch. When you’re a graphic designer, it just makes sense. 🙂
Anyone down for the challenge? Thanks for doing me a favor!
If you’ve already read it, please go online and leave a review! I can still reblog you or design something for ya! ‘Cuz I’m cool like dat.
Slow down, you move too fast.
I met a gentleman this morning with the most lovely accent. From Virginia. He was 88. I could listen to him talk all day.
I knew moving into this driving job, I would meet interesting people. Aromatic people, talkative people, desperately lonely people. But I had no idea I would meet magical people.
“I just need to stay alive and keep a house going.”
That was his mantra all morning long.
Two things to keep in mind when you’re 88:
- Stay alive! (very important)
- Keep a place going (also very important)
Survival and shelter. Can’t argue with that.
I carried him to Winn-Dixie to get some groceries. From here on known as grosh. As I helped him out of the car and into the store, he kept reciting things he would be doing. He was full of helpful tips and practical suggestions. To everything he stated, to affirm I was listening, I replied, “Smart.” and “Good idea.”
He would reply, in the most charming Southern drawl, “Smart?! Only way to go as I see it.”
I love you, sir. Let me help you with your grosh.
Two things to keep in mind when you’re 44 (exactly half his age, that would be my age):
- Stay alive
- Keep a place going
Got it. Smart. Only way to go as I see it.