Month: October 2016

Your three words, my little story: Eric’s words

/ Jim McDonald / 6 Comments

Your three words, my little story
Eric’s words: depth, sinner and lost

I am going to use this in another category also. How ya like my hat?

When I read these words I immediately thought of, Psalms 130:1.

Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O LORD.

Don’t worry I’m not going to get all, Holier than thou on you. Most of you know that when I am given three words, I don’t write a story in the expected direction or genre.

In this case I’ll tell you what this particular scripture and the words mean to this SINNER.

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How ya like my hat? Jesus most certainly is my Boss

In the late eighties I was alone in my room kneeling on the shag carpeting, looking for little pieces of crack that might have fallen into the carpet fibers. As my gaze lifted up from the floor and into the mirror, I noticed this pale, frail, shell of a man and at that moment I saw the DEPTH of my depravity.

In that split second I knew some changes needed to be made. My head continued to rise toward the ceiling and I prayed with my eyes wide open, “Lord please help relieve me of my addictions, drinking, drugging and smoking cigarettes.”

However, there was nothing I could possibly do at that time, since I was anchored and LOST in the grips of addiction. I found out years later, that was my turning point.

God doesn’t give us more than we can handle and He answered my prayers in a manner that He knew I could understand.

A few months later I was arrested for driving on revoke license for my umpteenth time. I was sent to jail for a year and I lived there for nine months, while my mom took care of my sons.

While in jail, I began going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, church services and I had visits from my moms Pastor. During one of the Church Services the reading that day was Psalm 130:1 and that reminded me of the evening I asked God to help me. At that time I was four months dry in jail and I realized my prayers were answered.

I could go on and on with this topic, but I won’t bore you anymore. Not today anyway.

Random thoughts: Love or lust

/ Jim McDonald / 10 Comments

Random thoughts: Love or lust

 

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Do you love the flag or lust the ladies. I guess you can do both. Sadly I did not take this picture.

 

I have searched for love all my life and often my search has led me astray. I have also followed lust in all the wrong directions. For years alcohol and drugs have mired both of these emotions, but not anymore.

 

At best, I’m a six and that’s because of my personality not my looks. If my appearance were the only aspect that counted. I’d probably score less than a five.

 

I am guilty of lusting after women and confusing that with love. Sadly, I feel I have been with my soulmate already and didn’t realize it at the time. She was the perfect woman, for me anyway.

 

Lust for me doesn’t mean what it use to. It means a strong desire to have or accomplish something; such as, a tasty hamburger, the desire to hug my grandkids or winning the lottery.

 

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Blake

 

I don’t search for love anymore, but I see it everywhere; in a man and a woman, a parent and a child and of course the simple friends.

 

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Liam

 

Do I really love the Redskins or is that a word I easily pick out of my blue collar imagination? Love and lust are strong emotions and both have their place in our vocabulary and life.

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Vera Grace

 

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Nieces, Crystal and Christy, my bother George and my sister Debbie

Past, present & plans: 10-19-16

/ Jim McDonald / 2 Comments

Past, present & plans 10-19-16

 

Past

 

Dad was from Sulfur Springs, Texas and he was raised plowing the cotton fields by walking behind a mule. They were too poor to own a tractor in the 1920’s and 1930’s.

 

However, in the 1960’s we had a tractor and dad taught me how to plow, disc, pull a trailer, back the trailer up and many other aspects of a farm tractor.

 

After, I had that down, he went to the Charlotte Hall Farmers Market and bought a mule. He taught me how to plow the field walking behind a mule, so I could get a glimpse of life without machinery.

 

Sometime after that, dad had a Middle Buster plow, sent to our farm in Maryland from his family in Texas, so we used it to unearth the peanuts and potatoes.

 

A normal plow digs into the ground and throws the dirt in one direction and that’s to the right. With a Middle Buster the point goes into the earth, then throws the dirt to both sides, thus the name Middle Buster.

 

I was amazed that we had a tractor and we broke ground with a mule. No one else in the neighborhood did that. I thought that was pretty cool.

 

Present

 

On October 1, 2016 at the age of sixty two, I was enrolled into forced retirement by Social Security. So I lost my Medicaid, but my Medicare will not start till June of 2018. I found out I was in the donut hole, can’t go back and can’t go forward.

 

I went to Social Services this morning and because I receive so little money, I was able to renew my Medicaid. That brought tears to my eyes.

 

I had four more appointments to fill out the rest of the day. The day started at 7:30 am and ended at 9:00 pm. Suffering from COPD that made for a long draining day, but very beneficial.

 

Plans

 

Tomorrow I’m going to sleep late, then call and reschedule the four doctor appointments that I had to cancel last week.

Poem: Counting Birthdays

/ Jim McDonald / Leave a comment

Poem: Counting Birthdays

at fifteen
can’t wait to grow up
you’ll be the boss
at twenty
one more year is heaven
then you’ll be legal
at twenty five
your experience grows
but only you know
at thirty five
you have your own family
this explains your parents
at forty five
eyes and hair are going
but nowhere you want to go
at fifty five
memory is vague and elusive
lost just like your keys
at sixty five
you wonder why
you wanted to be sixteen
at seventy five
your favorite place
is your quiet chair

 

at eighty five you wonder
how did you make it this far
lost your hair and your car
you can’t see or hear
aches match your year
can’t remember your friend
your always on the mend
but what’s your druthers
six feet like all the others

Poem: Counting Daisies

/ Jim McDonald / 2 Comments

Poem: Counting Daisies

counting daisies
in a field of daisies
is like counting
blades of grass
in a square yard
is like counting
midnight stars
with no clouds
is like counting
purple cars
in a frozen city

 
but not like counting
your few friends
among your many acquaintances