Buff

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Buff: (adj) being in good physical shape with fine muscle tone.

Although I agree that sexual purity is a noble state, sexual deprivation more resembles North Dakota.

What I mean is, as we try to avoid promiscuity, we need to consider the fact that all of us require some sensation Dictionary Bof being attractive.

I was kind of born fat.

I know that sounds like a cop-out, and it probably is–but since I was twelve-and-a-half pounds when I popped out of my mother, and three hundred pounds by the time I reached the 7th grade, it is safe to say there were not many intervals of “lean” in between.

So even though I worked on a good personality, a generous spirit and nourishing my talent, I have traveled the Earth with what appears to be a spare belly. I don’t know what it would ever be used for–it just seems to take up space, unexplained.

Recently, one of my dear friends, who happens to be female, told me that another friend saw me about twenty years back, when I was deeply absorbed, or perhaps even possessed, in the notion of exercise, and described me as “buff.”

I almost wet my pants.

The notion of me being buff, or considered buff, or even curiously perceived buff by a near-sighted man, gave me an uncontrollable tingle down my spine.

For a moment, I felt alluring, without feeling the need to allure.

I was appealing, without needing to pursue pleasant dialogue which might make me seem interesting.

There is an old saying that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” If by that the writer intended to express that we are crazy and bonkers, then I agree.

But if we don’t feel presentable, we don’t feel happy.

And if we don’t feel happy, we try to make other people’s lives miserable.

And once miserable, they will certainly find us even more unappealing.

 

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Best

Best: (adj) of the most excellent, effective, or desirable type or quality.

Dictionary B

The most miserable, unfulfilling, angry, jealous and confusing moments in my life were when I believed I was pursuing the “best.”

I suppose that’s because I feel they’re always moving my keys.

Do you know what I mean?

You come home, you lay your keys on the counter (and you’re damn sure you did) and you come back and they’re gone. Your first instinct is to believe that someone has come and taken your keys and placed them somewhere that they thought would be best.

Truth is, most of humanity does not pursue their own best, but only feels they have insight on what I should pursue to get my best.

So politicians, preachers, pundits and personalities of all shapes and forms preach to me their permutation of what is really perfect.

I’m tired of perfect.

I hate perfect.

Matter of fact, if I believed Jesus was perfect, I would completely comprehend the crucifixion. He would have been too annoying to keep around.

Candidly, I have spent so much time worrying about the best that I’ve often missed the chance … to just get better.

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Archangel

dictionary with letter A

Archangel: (n) an angel of high rank

Gabriel drew the short straw.

God had decided that announcing the birth of the Messiah would have to be prompted by a visitation from an archangel.

Gabriel lost.

It isn’t that the archangels were especially angry about saving mankind–it’s just that trying to tell a fourteen-year-old virgin that she’s pregnant is not exactly the most pleasant task.

Angels are always a little perplexed with humanity anyway. Matter of fact, the only thing an angel and a Homo sapien share in common is free will. And any respectable angel will be quick to tell you that they use their free will much more righteously than earth-bound bipeds.

Gabriel mused. How do you tell a young girl that her life is about to be interrupted in the most inconvenient ways, only to be further dismantled by adventure and mayhem?

It fell Gabriel’s lot.

He spent a few moments alone to make sure he had rid himself of all preconceived ideas and prejudice. He realized that a certain amount of compassion would be necessary to talk to Mary of Nazareth about welcoming a baby which would not be easily explained tor either her betrothed or to her parents, sitting around the dinner table.

In contemplating it, the archangel gained more and more heart and sympathy for the human race:

  • They were certainly more tempted than angels, who spent time surrounded by goodness and mercy.
  • Humans also possessed an emotional explosion not fully comprehended in the heart of the standard celestial inhabitant.
  • And on top of that, Mary was a young girl with dreams which would have to be melted into a divine mission of being the mother of God.

Yes, Gabriel drew the short straw.

The rest of the angels flew away, giggling in delight. But instead of viewing it as a burden, Gabriel took it on as a challenge, which turned into an opportunity.

“Behold, Mary, you are blessed.”

That’s a pretty nice thing to say.

Even though the rest of the message was much more daunting, he felt good about blessing the little lady.

Archangels are the bridge between God and human beings.

Michael, one of the other members of the team, once noted, “We angels have just enough of God to know what we should do, and enough human to sometimes be miserable doing it.”

Maybe that’s true.

But without the archangels, our world would slide into a pit of mediocrity, and nothing of excellence would be achieved.

Time passed (though angels have no watches).

Gabriel sat for a moment, remembering what it was like to speak to Mary. There were many jobs that followed.

He recalled that one of his favorites was whispering into the ear of an artist who was staring at the ceiling, wondering what to do … prompting him to paint God.

 

 

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