Posts Tagged ‘heart’

It is the most important condition upon which we should focus. One, it is the pump that sends life blood to all parts of the body to keep it alive in nutrients and oxygen. Two, and most importantly, it is the center of your being, who you are, your core self. How is that?

I cannot say how you should feel in your “heart of hearts”, as they say. I can talk about mine.

The noted evangelist, Billy Graham, once taught that in everyone there is a God shaped hole in them. And, only the God of the Bible can fill it. It is my experience that is true.

My heart condition is this: I look to my Creator and question “how is my heart toward Him?”

My experience may be different than yours. I know the God of the Bible is real. He is who He says He is. I have lots of life experiences, moments of a heavy dose of reality, that have confirmed He is who He says He is. Some others have not. Others with whom I have talked and shared have looked at me as if I was crazy or making stuff up. To be shaken to my core with His presence, seeing Him in might, and hearing Him speak to me directly… well, that changes and alters your perception of what you thought was. So, my heart condition.

There are days that I feel His presence strongly in my heart, my core self. There are days where that is a longing by Him for me to be different, to be more like Him, to be with or nearer Him. To draw near means to get closer, and that is what He wants. And, it is difficult for us for so many reasons.

The purity of His presence is intense. The only thing I can liken it to being like is an intense flame. You can feel the heat of the flame, and if it is large enough, it gets hotter and more intense the closer you get to it. There is almost a pressure wall in front of it. The God of the Bible is like that, except the fire of His presence is so intense but does not burn like the heat of a fire. He is pure. There is no impurity in Him. And, He desires to be with us, but in Spirit and in Truth.

In Spirit means in the essence of your being. Who you are. Your heart of hearts. Who you really are.

In Truth means there is no deception, no persona, no mask, nothing hidden. It is what it is with no explanation.

The God of the Bible wants to meet us there, and that is where He meets us. In our heart.

I question my heart condition from time to time. How am I toward others? How am I toward me? How am I toward the God of Creation, who loved me enough to give me Jesus on a cross?

My heart condition sometimes gets so busy filling up life that I do not make time for my heart. My heart condition sometimes gets so busy “doing” that I do not make time for others. I just “do” for them. My heart condition sometimes gets so busy doing for the God of the Bible I actually do not make any time for the God of Creation.

And, that is where the God of Creation and I are today. He is reminding me that sometimes I need to make time just for Him where we are being in relationship, spending time together without expectation.

There are times when the Lord God of the Bible waits for me to get quiet enough to hear Him say, “I miss My time with you.”

Your heart condition, like mine, must get quiet enough, honest enough, and truthful enough to hear the God of Creation and you say, “I miss my time with You, too.”

What is your heart condition, today?

Make time with the God of Creation, and if you do not know Him, you can. Simply ask Him to be in your life, a part of your life. Ask Him into your “heart of hearts”. Let Him lead you, guide you, heal your hurts, and be with you.

Just ask: God, forgive me for being separate from You. I receive the price paid by Jesus on the Cross for me to be with You. Jesus, forgive me. Let me live with you forever. Amen. (Which means, “so be it.”)

If you prayed that little prayer and meant it from your heart, you can expect God to intervene in your life now. He will come to you and begin to work on repairing your heart condition.

Changes in your life may not happen over night. That is okay, that is alright. The God of Creation is with you forever now. There is time. Just work on your heart condition. We, God and me, still work on mine.

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One day is not enough to say I love you.
Perhaps I should try and do.
But one day a year to say I love you,
Would not be enough, even with flowers, too.

One month is not enough to say I love you.
Even though there are cards and candy, too.
But one month only just won’t do.
One month is not enough to say I love you.

One year is not enough to say I love you.
No, no; one year just won’t do.
There’s not enough time to show you.
One year is not enough to say I love you.

Maybe a lifetime might do.
Yes, maybe a lifetime will do.
Everyday, every way, to say I love you.
From our early days to all the way through.

If a lifetime isn’t enough, there’s eternity, too!
Time without ending, a n’er ending view,
A lifetime partnership, just us two.
An eternity of sharing, me saying I love you.

With all my heart, I love you.
Time and time again will do,
Everyday, every way, eternity through,
Time without ending, just to say I love you.


c.20160214, for my wife, my forever Valentine.

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Reflecting on life, as I often do, I thought of my daughter who I met for the first time last year. She is 23 and I did not know her until last year. I was disappointed that I only just met her. There was so much of her life I missed. I may be her father, but I never got the chance to be her dad. I missed a grand opportunity.

A child’s first hero should always be the dad. The guy who can lift anything, reach anything, open anything, kill any bug, and knows a lot of stuff. As they grow up they will come to realize dad cannot do everything and does not know as much as first thought. But in some special place inside the child remains a memory that dad was once a hero in their eyes. I missed out on that experience with my daughter.


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Here’s Your Breakfast, Mr. Poe
By Dave Doc Rogers
Wordcount: 3583

Lightning flashed and thunder tore through the roar of the waves crashing, crashing against the base of the cliff. The angry storm spent its wrath against the lone castle overlooking the boulder strewn base of the cliffs. Pale yellow light shone weakly from the windows of the upper hall. Rain drenched and miserable a horse team was driven hard as it pulled a coach through the thickening mud of the track leading to the remote and forlorn castle. The passengers within were jostled and slid with each malformation in the poorly maintained cart track. The hooded young lady tried incessantly to comport herself without goodly success. The rake of a merchant’s son could not help his poor breeding and often laughed to her ridicule. The attending matron bore all with dignity and distaste. At every outburst of laughter from the young man a look of contempt was thinly veiled. The magistrate took it all in and digested it. With increasing contempt he snorted his displeasure at the absurdity and inconvenience of having to make this yet additional trip to this remote, frontier keep.
Jostled without respite, the coach persisted in its journey. A brilliant flash followed immediately by a hair tingling crack filled the air within the coach. The young lady screamed in her fright. The matron quickly clutched the young woman to her breast. A vacant look of laughter mixed with fright washed across the face of the young merchant. The magistrate only jumped and pulled his valise closer to himself. The coach lurched from side to the side as the horsemen worked to control the team. Moments of terror added to the inconvenience of their travels together. The soaked horsemen managed to regain their charges and slow the team to retake the track. Looming ever closer the castle seems to watch their approach.
The drivers brought the team to a halt in front of the gatehouse. In painful and aching movements, the older of the drivers dismounted the coach and sloshed his way toward a door in the side of the gatehouse. He slapped the door with his open hand several times. There was no answer from within. The other driver still on the coach shouts down to look for a bell rope. The older man cast about looking for anything that may appear to be such. At last in a corner to one side of the gatehouse he spies a rope. In just a few splashing steps he was near it and pulled. In the distance an iron bell sounds. The old driver pulled again. The bell sounded again in the distance. He looked to the coach. The other driver waved him back. The rain continued its onslaught as the older driver took his seat.
Several minutes pass. The rain continued unabatedly. The four passengers within the coach looked to one another in awkward silence. The chill of the air and the constant weather have put a strain upon them all. Barely heard above the storm voices are raised in conversation. The coach unexpectedly lurched forward. The young merchant nearly slid from his rearward facing seat to the floor of the coach. The magistrate’s valise did fall to the floor spilling its contents. The older man quickly fell forward and begins collecting the loose papers. The muddied and wet floor did not overly spoil the documents but the look of dissatisfaction was clearly evident upon the face of the magistrate. The young lady is nervously fearful. The older matron seemed unconcerned. And the young merchant poorly hid his smile finding the magistrate’s situation amusing.
The rain abated momentarily as the coach passed through the gatehouse into the bailey. The incessant drumming of rain drops on the roof of the coach returned. The young lady found herself looking to the roof as the sound of the rain made its way across the top of the coach. A momentary distraction as the coach bounced evenly and slightly across the cobbled way leading through the outer bailey. It seemed only moments had passed before they are under the cover of the inner gatehouse. There was movement from outside as the drivers dismounted from the coach. A door to the coach swung outward and the face of the younger driver peers in.
“Begging your pardons, Messigneurs et Mesdames. There is no cover against this rain in front of the main entrance. His lordship has requested you depart here for your convenience. His man will show you the way out of the weather.
“Herbert and I will bring your effects along directly.”
The driver spoke directly but the expression on his face asked permission. The magistrate answered for them all, “That will be fine. Aid me,” he commanded holding out his hand.
One by one the driver assisted his passengers from his lordship’s coach. The wind and the weather continued to splatter everyone in attempts to get them wetter than they already were. They turned in unison as a side door opened in the gatehouse and an elderly man peered out. He held a lantern out in front of him. He looked at them through squinting eyes.
“His lordship has been expecting you,” he croaked with an old voice. “He trusts your journey was not too uncomfortable.” The old man turned without waiting for an answer and began walking into the interior of the gatehouse.
The interior of the gatehouse was drab. The old man did not wait for them to fully take in their surroundings. Walking quickly, he began to disappear down a long hallway. The young lady looked nervously to the matron for assurance.
“Let us go quickly, Lady Marguerite. We need to get you to warmth soon,” the matron gently pushed the young lady in the direction the old man took.
The magistrate pushed passed both women and followed quickly after the old man with the lantern. The young merchant followed nervously after the women, not wanting to be left behind. He continuously looked around afraid of every shadow.


“He is a curious subject. He is constantly in a state of delusional schizophrenia.”

“Do you have a history on him, Doctor?”

“Sadly, it is insufficient, Doctor.”


They sat in the main hall in various chairs along the walls. No one sat at the main table. Their host had not yet arrived and there was no food laid out as yet. They simply waited. The young merchant tried to strike up conversations with young lady and her matron. They only politely answered his queries. He was unaware of his station and they were being too polite to point it out to him. After having no success, the young merchant attempted conversation with the magistrate. The surly, disapproving looks made it certain to the young merchant that he was not interested in conversation. The young merchant took to inspecting anything else that might be interesting. He walked along the walls closely examining portraits of relatives long since dead, suits of out dated armors, and heirlooms of no real intrinsic value. It occupied his time.
The magistrate returned to fussing over his papers, inspecting seals, and rereading drafts. He ensured he looked rather important and too busy to be bossed with the others.
The young lady sat pleasantly bored counting and recounting everything in the room. It was an exercise in managing boredom on the inside while appearing pleasantly amused on the outside. The matron just watched her and politely reminding her of her station whenever she forgot herself only slightly.
“Is there a bell rope or something?” asked the young merchant in exasperation. “Where is our host and might we have some wine or some other refreshment?”
Three sets of eyes turned to him. Three sets of eyes looked upon him with disdain at his outburst. Three sets of eyes agreed with him but said nothing.
The storm that had raged for so long during their travels seemed to have finally spent itself. The crashing roar of waves hurling themselves at the base of the cliffs died down to a mere crashing as the tide turned to the sea. The rain filled clouds gave way to breaks in the clouds. The young merchant having grown weary of art and armor took to watching the clouds for breaks to catch glimpses of stars or the moon.
A door opened. No one entered. The young merchant looked to the others. Their faces showed only questions. The young merchant strode over to the door and peered through. There was no one there. As he turned to inform the others of his findings, a flicker of light caught his eye.
“You there! You with the light! Hold one moment!”
The flickering light retreated further from view. The young merchant stepped into the hallway and proceeded after the retreating light source. The remaining three in the great hall stared at one another unsure of what next to do.


“Who should I see about his file?”
“Go back to the nurses’ station. Mattie will be able to help you.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I will do that now.”
The orderly followed the younger doctor to the door and led him down the hallway to the nurses’ station. The older doctor took out his pen and made additional notes on the papers he shuffled in his hands.


“Ah, Monsigneur Martin. It is good to see you finally.”
The young man froze in mid step. He had become so focused on following the retreating light that he did not take note of his host standing so near.
“Ah, uh, um,… your lordship, I … uh…”
“All is well, Monsigneur Martin?” The look on the younger man’s face showed he was clearly startled. “If you would be so kind as to follow me.”
The Viscount was not exactly what he was expecting or had heard from his father. The man before him did not appear demented nor fragile. On the contrary, he was tall, well built, and intense in carriage. The dark reddish brown hair was shoulder length and well maintained. His house cloak was well maintained. No, his lordship did not look weak or fragile. He lord turned quickly and began to walk away.
“Monsigneur Martin, I wish to settle accounts with your father and your family’s dealings with me.” He spoke without turning around or looking back. “Please follow me that I might address them appropriately.” The young merchant looked around him. The only light in the passageway was from the lamp carried by the Viscount. He had no choice but to follow. They came to a tapestry that the Viscount pulled back exposing another passageway. He turned to the young man and smiled indicating he should go through, into the passage. As he stepped through the Viscount followed then quickly took the lead again. The new passageway intermittently would turn into a stairway that would spiral in upon itself. At the base of the stair, they came to a seating area upon a decorative carpet. There were two chairs, a decanted wine, and two glasses. The Viscount offered a chair to the young merchant. He then sat opposite him and poured them both wine.
“To debts paid, Monsigneur Martin.” He lifted his glass and sipped.
“To debts paid, m’lord,” he echoed nervously and followed suit.
The young merchant became aware that his head hurt painfully. It was as if he had been struck or had too much wine. He did not know where he was. He could not see. His eyes were open. He blinked several times. It was very dark. He tried to bring his hand up to touch his head. His arms and legs had been restrained. He struggled until exhausted. Sweat ran from him in rivulets. As he began t calm his breathing he could hear footsteps coming nearer. He tried turning his head toward the footfalls.
“Ah, Monsigneur Martin. I see you are awake now. Good.”
The Viscount’s voice drifted to him from somewhere behind him but continued to draw closer. As he came into view he was hold two candles. One he sat on a small table underneath a rope. The hemp began to blacken immediately. The young merchant looked back to the Viscount. A smile slowly formed across the face of the lord.
“Your father’s debts to me are … were exorbitant. In a little while those indiscretions will be absolved. I shall return to see how you like my negotiating skills.”
As the Viscount slowly retreated from view, the young merchant’s eyes went back to the only light left in the room. The candle. It slowly starting burning a hemp rope. With the little light available, the young merchant tried to follow the rope until he lost it in the darkness.


A large, older nurse came into the ward followed by a young woman dressed a nurse. The apron of the younger woman was striped vertically with red stripes. She looked nervous and stayed close to the older nurse.
“Matty, did the new resident find you?”
“Yes, Doctor. He went to the lounge to review file.”
“Excellent.” As an after thought, “And who is this, Matty? Is she qualified to be in here?”
“Yes she is, Doctor. This is Margaret. She will be interning with me this semester.”
“Very well. Keep an eye on her.”
“I haven’t lost one yet, Doctor.” She smiled to the doctor.
“Good, good. I’m going for a coffee. I’ll return in another hour to check on Mr. … our patient.”


The three remaining in the great hall continued to look to one another nervously. The young merchant had left and did not return. They did not know what to think. As they sat pondering motion at the still open door caught their attention. The older man from earlier was standing their holding the same lantern in his hand.
“His lordship will see you, Magistrate. If you will follow me.”
The old man turned and walked away. The magistrate quickly collected his papers and notes and followed after the old man. He nodded politely as he passed the too women still seated as earlier. Once to the door he looked down the hallway to a light fading at the end of the stair. The magistrate made the best haste his large form could make. He always seemed to be just at the edge of catching up to the old man. The light would always fade around the next corner. Exasperated, the magistrate thought he had lost him. There was no light in the passageway. Slowly he made his way along the direction he thought he should go. He was lost, he was certain of it. As he walked slowly along he noted a dim light coming from a side chamber. Peering in he saw a candle on a table. There were two chairs, two glasses, a decanter of wine, and cleared space. He looked in and saw no one. Stepping further in he allowed himself the luxury of taking a seat at the table. A few moments had passed. Looking around after his moment respite, he poured himself a glass of the wine. He checked the nose of the wine. He fancied himself a connoisseur of the grape. It had an unusual aroma. He took a sip and let it play around his mouth.
“I took the liberty of letting you retain your letters, Magistrate. I do not recognize your authority within my county. Your accusations shall remain with you.”
The black fog that had been his world was slowly lifting. Groggily he blinked his eyes several times. He tried to bring his arms down but they were tied to sconces on either side of a small storage room. As his eyes came into focus he could see before him a low wall being built. He looked up a bit more. His eyes met the smiling face of the Viscount.
“I have been advised to reinforce my outer walls. These minor store rooms really do not provide real value.” He laid another brick into the wall and tapped into place. “I need to let these settle first. I will be back to finish the work.”
The magistrate opened his mouth to yell for help. There was a hoarse rasping sound but nothing more.
“An interesting side effect of that particular varietal mixed with certain apothecaries is the stealing of the voice. Do not worry. It will come back in a few hours. The wall will be up by then. It will be well.” The Viscount smiled slowly and viciously. He stood up from his work, dusted himself off slightly, and then walked away. The darkness slowly surrounded the magistrate as the only light source left with the Viscount.


“Okay,” she said passing the tray into the hands of her new intern,” you have to get his attention. Once you have that, then you can feed him. He is harmless.” She looked into the face of this young, naïve little student. Will she be able to pull this off, she thought.
“Okay,” she said nodding, not exactly sure of herself.
The young intern turned to the table where the patient sat. He appeared to be transition from typing to doing odd motions with his arms, as if he was doing something completely different.
“Ahemm…. Robert…” No response. “Robert, it’s time to eat.” No response.
“Try they name he answers to,” suggested Matty.
“Edgar… ahem… Edgar…”
The fragile man in the sterile white jumper looked at the young nurse’s intern.


The old man and the lantern retuned to the open door of the great hall. “Madame, his lordship would have a word with you regarding the dietary needs of m’lady.”
The matron stood slowly. She turned toward the young lady and curtsied with a slight nodding of her head. The young lady remained seated but nodded in return. The matron stepped back a few paces then turned to meet the old man at the door but he had already progressed into the hallway. She followed.


“Mr. Poe?” He nodded slowly. “Here’s your breakfast, Mr. Poe.”


Servants came into the great hall. They offered the young lady hors d’ouvres of various spiced meats, fruits, and nuts. She daintily sampled the dishes offered. She observed the table being set with only two place settings. She kept quiet about her observations. After a flurry of comings and goings the four servants had set the table with several covered dishes and a largish one which was brought in last. This one was set to the center between the two place settings.


The candle’s flame had burned slowly through the rope. Quickly the final strand was burning through. In horror of the unknown result, the young merchant stared as the final strand gave way to the weight of its burden and the candles flame. The rope flew away into the air. A loud click was heard to come from somewhere above him. A flash of something metallic whisked by overhead. Click. Whatever it was flashed past again. Click. The clicking continued several times. The poor light of the candle’s flame did not aid the young merchant’s vision well. Click. Whoosh. He saw it. Click. Whoosh. A large curved blade. Click. Whoosh. Over his middle. Click. Whoosh. Closer still. Click…


“Mr. Poe? Your breakfast?”
The man stopped typing. He stopped doing the odd little things with his arms. He stared down at the covered dish in front of him.


She stared down at all of the covered dishes. The little hors d’ouvres were nice treats but she was famished. She had not eaten anything of significance all day. She longingly looked at the dishes on the table before her.
“I am truly sorry, my dearest lady Marguerite.”
She jumped slightly at the voice. She turned and curtsied to her host. She lowered her eyes, which she was taught was protocol.
“Arise, my dearest lady. You are my honored guest. This night I have addressed three grievances long held. It was a most productive evening. …”
He swooped into the room with flourish. His one sided conversation continued as he showed his young guest to her chair, taking the privilege of seating her himself. He sat at the head of his table. He talked excitedly of false accusations that have finally been closed up to be forgotten shortly. A mere memory. And of business dealings where they thought to cheat him but he out smarted them all. He promised her that he would slowly cut to the heart of the matter. He smiled as if carrying a secret. She became nervous. Where was her guardian?
He spoke excitedly of his great nemesis who kept him from his dearest of prizes. The thought of such efforts to thwart him would eat at him, he said. Now, it was his turn to turn the table … so to speak. Then he started laughing. The young lady began to fear something terrible could occur.
He rang a bell at his table. The servants appeared and began uncovering dishes and began serving portions. The last was a roasted pig, splayed before her. Her eyes traveled to the head. She dropped her fork and screamed.


He could hear the thumping all over again. The eye that stared at him. The thumping that would not stop. His head darted quickly to the window. A large black bird rested there. It tapped upon the window with its beak.

“Mr. Poe? Your breakfast?”

© 2008 Dave Doc Rogers

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Whatever Occupies The Mind

by Dave “Doc” Rogers

The sky is blue. The grass is green. Gravity works.

But for some this is not the case. For some the sky is a cerulean effect of light refraction from a gravimetric hydrogenic mass of particulate matter as it is refracted through the haze we refer to as atmosphere to reflect off of a surface structure of greater density back through the haze to be reflected in minute once again toward the denser surface structure only to be captured within a waiting gulf of absorptive material only to strike against an electromagnetic reactive surface which triggers synaptic responses that run along neural highways to register the video component as a chromatic association. And this combined with atomic masses rotating upon a stellar axis in such coalesced volume as to pull mass into itself rather than toss it away.

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