A thin young #heroin #addict gathered his plastic bag of clothes, kicked out of a #mountain #cabin, to slip into the #night #forest. His parents, “legally” addicted to prescription opioids, disowned him. I pray for something better for him, like #flowers and the #light of #home.
If you like my “photo poems” (based on real people, real places), please read my books.
My dear #friend Davut (David), a Turkish Army Officer, has been languishing in a Turkish #prison for many months, with 200,000 of his people arrested by their #dictator. His #sister asked for #prayer for him. #freedavut#davidvsgoliath. Remember #ataturk.
Read about the struggle for freedom in Turkey.
About the #heroin epidemic: those who take “legal” prescription #opioidssuch as #oxycodone or #morphine are no better than those who take street black. It all comes from the same #poppy flowers of #afghanistan. Heroin was invented to get people OFF morphine. Do not #judge. Help and say “#loveu” instead. This #tiffany #lamp has a #light side and a #dark side, but it is the same #thing, found in a #drug #house.
Read how I overcame legal prescription addiction to morphine, Atavan, and Ambien.
For #galgadot, #wonderwoman, who has been banned in many countries for being #israeli–a #poem: My little #silver #star of #david slipped off my silver neckchain. “Am I no longer #jewish?” I wondered as I kneelt to find it. As if more than 3000 years of #history could be erased, God’s ancient #prophesies—#yeshua— everlasting #torah, #temple, golden #candle sticks, #jerusalem, #spirit, #blood, and #stone. I have never #stepped a foot in #israel, but it will ALWAYS be my #home. #shabbotshalom.
Sometimes while delivering food for Uber Eats, I get to pause a moment and snatch a photo of a beautiful place like The Jeremy Hotel in Hollywood, upon a city hill, like a sailing ship above a sea of lights.
If you like my photos and the little poems that go with them, please check out my books.
When I was driving for Uber in Los Angeles, I was struck by how many homeless people live there. Some say there are 100,000 homeless in Los Angeles, especially in the old downtown area and under freeway bridges. Shelters cannot keep up. Soup kitchens have not “seen these numbers” since the Great Depression of the 1930s. Local government does little to help, and the police may arrest a homeless person only to free him or her without help the next day. I saw a homeless tent parked near a Rolls Royce luxury sedan in the Beverly Hills area. A U.S. army veteran camped out at a McDonald’s patio with his friend. A man lay passed out in the street in front of a Starbucks coffee shop. A wheelchair-bound man visited the local cat lover and his shopping cart near Walmart. Churches lock their gates as people sleep on steps and in doorways. A man sleeps on his skateboard under a tree in a Redlands, California Walmart parking lot. Will we only do something about the homeless when they climb over our high walls and invade our homes and gardens? We take better care of our fashion and our pet dogs. As an Uber driver, I often slept in my car, homeless myself but with a vehicle as shelter. Buy my books, and I will help the homeless. Now I am not one of them. Like most Americans, I could be homeless again–after one month without a paycheck. America is falling.
Last night the Queen invited all her court, friends, and their family & friends to celebrate Christmas on 12th Night (in January), as was done long ago and is still done in some places today. Seeing people who have become family to me, feasting on our homemade food, listening to music and stories, and playing games like the Gift Exchange, I remembered back to last summer when I entered a better Reality than this modern age. Close your eyes and enter a slower-paced, more fantastical time where surprises waited behind tree branches and in the spark of children’s eyes.
See the video I just posted on Youtube. Read my fantasy novel. Celebrate life!
God must be my refuge this year. As I read the Gospel of John and Psalm 91 today, that thought became clear. Funny how I took a photo of this window with the moon above it. Please read about the moon (and its beauty, symbols) in my books.
I watched the most life-changing film, “Man Down.” Not only veterans get PTSD I have had it since I was not yet 5 years old, when my father shot himself in the head–in front of me–on Christmas Day. Through abusive men, cancer, and near-fatal car accidents, trauma has returned repeatedly. Jesus help veterans and all of us who have PTSD. Woman Down.
You can read all about my journey with PTSD in my 3 nonfiction books which I call my “Survival Series.” Start with “Crossing the Chemo Room,” then go through “I Saw You in the Moon.” Realize that I do not tell the whole truth until “Fire and Ice.”
May our 2018 be a year less affected by trauma. Sadly, I cannot help but feel that everyone on Earth is in danger of PTSD the way things are headed. Like my Selah fantasy character, may we overcome!
Do you also feel that this may be the last Christmas this earth will know? Here are some poems I posted on Instagram, with photos:
Stuck on a hostile planet, supplies running out, signal weak, tapping SOS (Save Our Souls), we look to a light and wait for dawn. Hope of Messiah, Jesus.
Watching the 1945 film “Christmas in Connecticut,” I realize how far America has fallen. We used to dine on real food and live in nice homes. Now we eat protein bars and rent rooms–if we are the lucky ones and not homeless. A rose for remembrance.
In your virtual reality, imagine Holocaust victims herded into dark, windowless train wagons with no toilet. Imagine that inhumanity meeting humanity, that flesh needing spirit–and why we need a savior, miracle, baby Jesus.
I want to fly, spirit-like above the earth, like a Christmas angel unbound by flesh. How did God’s son become a baby for us? To walk the dust and heal and die upon a tree, blood to wash us–so broke the victory of resurrection, without which no angel flies or human lingers.