Cord

Cord: (n) (Electricity) a small, flexible, insulated cable used to transfer electrical power

Unpacking all the paraphernalia we decided to bring along to the cabin for a camping trip, we discovered that the waffle iron we had borrowed was minus the electrical cord to plug into the wall so the waffles could be toasted.

I remember saying to my friends who had gathered for this little excursion, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I really believed it in that moment. Somehow or another I failed to recognize that the distance between my waffle iron and the electricity in the wall needed to be covered by some sort of cord that would make them compatible to one another.

When it was discovered that we had no cord or connection, or that an extension cord could not be plugged into it and work, on the third day of staring at the apparatus which was so promising of the possibility of delicious golden-brown waffles, I decided to tear into it and find a way to take a piece of my extension cord and wire it up, using the connectors from the machine to plug it into the wall.

I was convinced I could do it. Matter of fact, I was so confident that I was already considering various ways to humbly deflect the praise from my companions for being so ingenious.

I worked on it for two-and-a-half hours.

I don’t know why I worked on it for two-and-a-half hours, because within the first ten minutes it was obvious to me that I didn’t know one damn thing about what I was doing.

But that didn’t seem to make any difference. After all, there may be very little in life that is worse than a waffle iron without a cord.

Finally, I found two connections in the waffle iron that I hooked the wires onto, and then I took the plug—the end that goes into the wall—and stuck it in the outlet.

It sparked and nearly exploded the waffle machine. A burning electrical smell filled the cabin as a tiny cloud of bluish-gray smoke drifted through the air.

No one was killed. Really, that’s the best I can say.

But then, not only did not have waffles, but needed to come up with a real good excuse to tell the people we borrowed it from for why we decided to sabotage and blow up their machine.


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Connection

Connection: (n) a linking relationship

I have a heart that’s full of emotion. Every time I deny this, I feel sick.

I have a soul that’s rich with God. Ignoring this makes me grouchy.

I have a brain which is peppered with notions. Setting them to the side causes me to seem erratic, lacking focus.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I have a body that wants to be healthy. Damn well better listen.

I am connected. These parts are connected.

My heart needs a soul to seek the comfort of divine reassurance, so when I renew my mind I can come up with inspirational possibilities, causing my body to do great things.

When I meet you, all four of these kick into gear. Sometimes I smile when people say “we had an emotional connection.” Or, “it was like we were mental twins.”

I just don’t believe that.

Every person I’ve ever been spiritually enlivened by also caused my physical body to become erect.

All the humans who touched my emotions initiated my brain to think of ways to enjoy them more and bless them fully.

We are humans–we connect. When we don’t, we become insincere and phony, quietly hating ourselves and making other people avoid us.

 

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Mr. Kringle's Tales...26 Stories 'Til Christmas

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Condemn

Condemn: (v) to express complete disapproval

I am the John 3:17 of fame.

In other words, nobody really recognizes me as a top-notch scripture. But when I am perused by those who are in search of something a bit more intuitive, I await with a treasured thought or two.

Even though John 3:16 is the famous verse that tells us that “God so loved the world that He gave us His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth shall be saved,” it is actually John 3:17 that explains how the gig works.

If there were only a John 3:16, God could sit up there in heaven and act like Amazon, waiting for people to call in their orders, follow the catalogue numbers, funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
punch all the right buttons and deliver them salvation.

But God’s customer service is actually much better.

That’s what John 3:17 is about. It reads this way:

“For God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved.”

You see, I’m not so sure I’d want to be saved if I felt condemned.

I’m not so sure the threat of condemnation would frighten me into the arms of God. After all, I have a rather independent nature, and if I only read John 3:16, I might just walk away and say, “Screw you.”

But John 3:17 lets us know that God does not condemn us–that the purpose of Jesus was to create empathy and connection.

So while the world pounds away with its John 3:16 agenda, I’m going to hang around and remind people that they’re not condemned, they’re not judged, and that Jesus came to do more than bleed.

He came to let people know that they are treasured.

 

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Coma

Coma: (n) a state of deep unconsciousness that lasts for a prolonged or indefinite period

Vigilant.

It is the most frustrating, mystifying and perhaps unachievable emotion available in the human heart–to continue to pursue a path of behavior and passion with no evidence that such devotion will ever guarantee success.

When my son was in a hit-and-run accident, he suffered a severe brain injury which placed him in a coma.

I was very young, and not just in years. I was young to the idea of inconveniencing myself.

Even though television portrays dutiful family members staying by the bedside of their loved one who is in a coma, the TV dramas only dwell in that lonely, still room for thirty seconds or so.

The silence is maddening.

Some nurses told me that people in a coma can hear, and others said there was absolutely no medical evidence that the patient has any awareness of the outside world at all. I stayed by his bedside.

Minutes were hours.

Hours, days.

And the days seemed like years.

I hated it. I felt like I was putting on a show for those around me by perching next to the unresponsive body of my young son, pretending to create a connection.

To my regret, I often slipped away early or arrived late.

A coma is when a human separates from us before drawing his or her last breath, letting us know how fragile life truly is.

My son finally did emerge from his coma, only to live in a vegetative state for about six years. The only thing he gained was an obvious function to feel more pain.

A horrible experience.

At times I have tried to glean some value from it, but ultimately, in my more cognitive perceptions, I declare it darkness.

 

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