Writer, Church leader, Eccentric Nut, Marketer

I'm Church Leader, Writer, Speaker, Marketer, Kindness Project Founder, Broadcaster and Superhero. But most important I'm a Husband, Father and a worshiper of Jesus.

24 August 2008

Best of Big Ear: Freedom Lodge

Get free... live free... free others. That's the story morning glory

Freedom Lodge

Freedom is a language that I didn’t used to speak.
It was an unrhymed line.
An illusive metaphor.

Being alone is cold. DARN COLD boss.
It’s the bleak mid-winter that didn’t start out that way.
It once was a tasty exotic fruit.
Then it got dark…darker than I thought it would be.
Bare isolation on a campsite where the fire had long since gone out, yet I was left sitting like a fool on my lawn chair surprised; expecting no one to rekindle what I thought I had.

Then I saw the lights go on.
How could I have missed the toasty lodge with their tasty lodge pies in the oven.
Come to think of it, I did hear their laughter.
But I was suspicious; figured it was a stupid joke away.
Me and my tree is all I need.

You know how creepy I must have seemed peeking in the windows of Freedom Lodge?
What must have those playing snakes and ladders by the fire thought of me?
Of course… my face was one of a thousand peekers.
I looked back at me and my tree; there were some good times weren’t there?
Walden thought so.
I wonder if Walden got lonely when he heard the “whoops” of Freedom Lodge?
Who is Walden and why should I care what He and His tree thought???

The door handle of Freedom Lodge is big. Oversized… almost excessive.
Who carved this thing??? I couldn’t have done that!
The door is quite unlocked indeed. Who are these freaks? This is BIG lodge. It must have surround sound systems, WI’s aplenty; think you should lock’er up?

The warmth in this lodge is ethereal almost.
Before I could get out my pen to record my thoughts, I’m on a sofa with a hot chocolate in hand.
Little white marshmallow half dissolved. How did you know?
]There is a gorgeous girl coming to sit by my side.
Hope I don’t stink.
She’s got some of the widest bell bottomed pants than I’ve ever seen and a smile to match.
Do people like this actually exist? I’ve read about them.
“She’s no tree” I say in that sarcastic place I hope to soon muzzle.

What is this feeling I can hear buzzing in the room.
Is it a bird?
Is it a plane?
Clearly not.
The buzz smells like cinnamon.
It tastes like Christmas morning.
It floats like a hospitable host, proud of the home He’s prepared for his good friends.

I shouldn’t feel like I belong. But I seem to.
My name’s already over my feathered bed.
Pillow puffed the way I like it.
My tree is screaming muted hooks of the past in my ear.
No can do.
Tonight I take my shoes, AND SOCKS off.
I’m waking up to the Freedom Lodge breakfast buffet this chick keeps raving about.
I’d call this place rare, but it’s somehow not.
Tomorrow I’m going skiing.
Taking a break from me… sitting awhile…


I get back from the Dominican tonight... so we'll chat soon!

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