short stories
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poetry
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short stories
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poetry
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![]() Shot gun at the ready, Bruce stood on the footpath outside of the bank waiting for the payroll for 6,000 people to be brought out and locked in the armored van and delivered to the steel company. The faces of the shoppers reflected their reaction at seeing Bruce standing armed on the footpath. Fear, curiosity, recognition and one or two even entertained the thought of robbery. No challenge was mounted only later he was asked, ‘Should a Christian carry a gun?’ Bruce was pastoring a church and working as a security agent. He believed in the worker/priest ethos. ![]() BREAKING THE STEREOTYPE Bruce glanced down the street, coming towards him was a colleague, his gown billowing in the breeze behind him. Without thinking Bruce greeted him, ‘Good day, Leo,’ Startled, many emotions crossed Leo’s face as he recognized Bruce. During that morning the two men attended an ecumenical meeting for ordained ministers at which Bruce was the Chairperson. For Leo to meet Bruce performing a secular job as a shot gun rider was despoiling the image held of pastors and priests as men of God. As a man of the cloth, Bruce should not have been riding shot gun, he should maybe, have been praying, reading the Bible, or performing some holy task. Leo could only gather up his skirts and scurry down the street as though avoiding contamination. Bruce smashed the traditional images of holiness and sanctity. It meant the bastion called tradition was being challenged and found wanting, which for many people is terrifying. How easy it is to create concepts of holiness and images of who God is that is false, steeped in traditions, based of all kinds of untruths. When these concepts are challenged, declared false, then we are left rudderless, without purpose. In our inner being we have no anchor. ![]() THE ALL TIME IMAGE BREAKER Jesus Christ was an image breaker. Just read his life’s history in what is known as the four Gospels of the New Testament. Jesus went home to tea with a shonky tax man called Zacchaeus. He accepted a drink from a woman who had had five husbands and even then was living in sin. His best friends were a group of fishermen. Jesus claimed to be the Son of God, or as the book of Hebrews quotes, ‘The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being.’ For all his big talk, Jesus kept dubious company. If we want a true picture of God we need to look at Jesus. To see Jesus is to see God. For further images of truth there is the Bible. To cultivate an intimate relationship with Jesus satisfies inwardly and we never yearn for more. Jesus claimed that he is the Bread of Life, the Living Water, the Way and the Truth. Those of us who have put these claims to the test have found Jesus is not a liar, a scam, a Pretender. Those of us who have trusted our all to Jesus have found Jesus is the Bread of Life and we hunger no more. Our inner being is stabilized, we search no longer for that elusive anchor of peace and joy. We have found it. ![]() BREAKING FROM TRADITIONS Jesus had to break our preconceptions of God, his holiness and his love to be able to reach the rank and file of humanity. Let’s refresh our memory with these words, ‘For God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son so that anyone who believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. God did not send his Son into the world not to condemn it, but to save it.’ (John 3: 16 LB)
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These short messages are extract of a small book being written by Gwenneth Leane and Illustrated by Kylie Margaret Leane of KML Publishing.com ![]() Love is... Love build relationships Love smiles when all is dark Love is patient when others are fractious Love is kind, never binds Love is freedom 1 Corinthians 13: ![]() LIGHT You, Lord, light up my life. Illuminate my mind increase my understanding, making me aware of all creation. You, Lord, are the Creator of light because you are light. Where you dwell there is not even a shadow. To live with you is to live in light and with light. A Psalm by Gwen Leane ![]() The Hidden Person Refuses to be drawn away into a perverted life But wears a meek and quiet spirit like an ornament. An inner beauty shines out of the heart and never ages as the body ages. These qualities in the sight of God are priceless. 1 Peter 3: 4 ![]() PLAN YOUR COURSE OF ACTION Rising dark and forbidding in the early morning, its head swathed in a scarf of mist, Mount Toolybrunup is the second highest peak in the Stirling Ranges of Western Australia. Over breakfast, around the campfire, my family and I planned the climb the mountain. It was 3,000 feet the highest we had ever climbed – the prospect was daunting yet exciting. ![]() SET THE GOAL We set a goal – to have lunch at the top of the mountain. It should have been easy, but we were not far up the mountain when our lungs began to pump like a blacksmith’s bellows. Our hearts pounded against rib cages like birds trying to escape. Our resolve was starting to weaken. The higher we went, the harder it became. Vanessa, now my son’s wife, slapped her aching legs, ‘Legs, do as I say.’ She was trying to summon up energy, willing her legs to take yet another step and another. We were suffering from jelly-legs. ![]() REACH THE TARGET We sat on a rock, taking a rest in readiness for a final onslaught to the summit In a wide semi-circle and drank in a vista of mountains marching northward. Beautiful in their varying shades of blue. Vanessa is smacking her legs again saying, ‘I feel angry with my legs.’ ![]() DON’T LET SUCCESS CHANGE YOU ‘Don’t waste energy on anger,’ I replied. Getting frustrated was the last thing we should do if we wanted to reach the top. Eventually, we clambered over the last boulder and were on the summit of the world. What a vision! ![]() WORDS Guest writer JUDY PITT, JAMESTOWN, AUSTRALIA If you play scrabble, then a good knowledge of words will stand you in good stead. Some of the highest scoring words used in competition have been bezique, muzjiks, caziques and quixotry. But what do they mean? Unless you can understand or have a use for unusual words there isn’t a lot of benefit in knowing them, except of course, for use in Scrabble. Great writers can use words to create pictures that transport us to another time and place. Think of Charles Dickens, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien … don’t their stories seem so real? And when you see their books adapted for the screen, are the characters and places as you have imagined them? Good authors craft their words to create a picture in our minds of the places they describe, so you can see, hear, smell and almost touch what they write about, and feel the emotions of the characters? And what about newspaper journalists, … can they persuade you to their point of view, just using the written word? One or two words in themselves can create pictures. A current favourite of mine is argie bargie, and what does it conjure up in my mind - a mob of little Jack Russell Terriers chasing a lure, all wanting to be in front, all jockeying for position and all giving the other dogs ‘the eye’! Originally the words were argle bargle, which meant to argue. Nowadays argie bargie suggests a bit of push and shove. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious – remember when that word hit the airwaves in the film Mary Poppins! And can you say it backwards? And how about this word— pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis It is a real word and refers to a lung disease contracted from the inhalation of very fine silica particles specifically from a volcano, and is also the longest word in any English dictionaries. Words describe diseases, but can also cause dis-ease – ever had a bout of motor-mouth or foot-in-mouth syndrome! I blush now as I think of the times I wish I had ‘zipped-the-lip’! LOSE TONGUE ![]() James 3 likens the tongue to an unbridled horse. An unbridled horse can be controlled by the rider, but it requires a fully submissive horse, fully listening and fully obedient. Does that describe your tongue, fully in control? It doesn’t describe mine, especially when I am tired or in a situation I don’t want to be in. My tongue certainly needs my full attention whenever it is in gear. I’m glad that God’s Word has words like love, grace, forgiveness; words we can all understand and don’t need to look up in a dictionary or google on the web to find out what the heck they mean. (What does google mean?) WANT SOMETHING TO READ? Four titles by Gwenneth Leane Available Amazon/ Kindle and www. kmlpublishing.com click on shop and order. ![]() ABOUT: The Mavericks Roundup. The Maverick's Roundup is the story of a man who overcame debilitating illness and poor education to follow the call of God across three States of Australia. As an ordained Pastor, Bruce continued to work from an open toolbox as a Jack-0f0all-Trades. His motto was to reach the man in the street just as his counterpart Paul did in the New Testament. ![]() RAINBOWS ACROSS THE OUTBACK. The latest title in Gwenneth Leane's collection. RAINBOWS ACROSS THE OUTBACK is an anthology of short stories and poems of life in the outback of South Australia. For many years, Gwenneth lived in Port Augusta, rubbing shoulders with the people who make their homes and livelihood in the outback ![]() THE SPIRIT PREVAILS A biography. Clara Brady Coulthard Johnson is an Yunkunytjara woman. At six years of age, Clara's life was turned about face when severed from the free, nomadic culture of Aboriginal life into the regimented lifestyle of white culture... Clara made a vow to return to her people regardless of what her captors threw at her. The Spirit Prevails is the story of how Clara kept that pledge and returned to her people. ![]() JOY IS… We need, I need, a more lasting joy, an inner joy that isn’t snuffed out when everything turns south and an arctic wind of doubt, grief, hardship or poverty blows over me, or us. I believed there ought to be something more and I discovered there was. To our human mind, joy is dependent on our financial status, our health, the acceptance and favour of others. When we muse on these issues, our joy fades and our pleasure in these things is tarnished. Scratch the surface of our joy and there is a dark hole. MY STRENGTH ‘The joy of the Lord is my strength,’ is a song line. At first, I wondered how joy could be a strength, but as I mused on the words, I saw that Jesus himself was the joy, a deep abiding, joy, regardless of where I was and what was happening to me. The realization the Lord lives within means that joy lives within and so becomes a strength. Of course, one must believe who the Lord is, we need to accept he indwells us when we commit to him. MY STRENGTH‘The joy of the Lord is my strength,’ is a song line. At first, I wondered how joy could be a strength, but as I mused on the words, I saw that Jesus himself was the joy, a deep abiding, joy, regardless of where I was and what was happening to me. The realization the Lord lives within means that joy lives within and so becomes a strength. Of course, one must believe who the Lord is, we need to accept he indwells us when we commit to him. MANY THINGS Jesus is many things according to the Bible, I guess that is why he can supply all our needs. If he lacked just one thing he would not be able to supply all our needs. Hence, Jesus had to be perfect in every way. The scripture quotes Jesus as saying, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life and we can add, ‘the joy’, Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life and the joy. When we have Jesus we have joy, joy like a piece of ripe fruit with an eternal shelf-life. To sum it all up, joy becomes a strength in the form of Jesus. Some further musings on joy: Joy is serving God Joy is when we are in chains. Joy is encouraging others. Joy is corporate. Joy is personal. Joy is Jesus.
Does all this sound like a pipe dream? I am not a curious scientist. Plants do have a mind of their own though, as any gardener knows. Provide plants with suitable soil, enough water and nutrients, and they will grow. That is common sense. On the other hand, I have observed trees grow out of sheer rock faces; I am left marvelling at the tenacity and determination to overcome any obstacle and live. There is another aspect, and that is the secret life of faith. My faith in particular. My faith is like a plant, the seed of faith was planted in my heart. It grew as does a plant, my faith blossomed for the world to see as does the flower that blossoms. As a full blown blossom so today is my faith. Jesus, Son of God, said, 'My words are life.' This quote can be read in full in John 6: 63. Further, 'the Word of God is spirit and life. 'The Word of God is 'living and active.' For the full-text Hebrews 4: 12. God’s Word is powerful and dynamic and imparts life to us who believe. God’s Word acts like nutrients and water does to the plant. His word informs us, about him, given free reign it encourages us, nurtures us, and strengthens us. We are able to not only cope with life live fully and abundantly. ![]() God’s most life-changing Word is, 'For God so loved' … me that he gave Jesus his only son to die that I might live. God's whispers of love spoken in secret to my heart explode into life, just as plants do when they are lovingly nurtured with water, nutrients and light. My life was changed overnight by his Word. God said, 'I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.' I took God at his Word and embraced his plan for my life. I believed that His Word is truth and not only his Word, but he is truth. Because I accept his Word, I am filled with his Life and power. I now live freely and richly in his care and provision. As plants respond to loving care, so I respond to God's loving care. He provides for me what I need; he nurtures me with his Word. He loves me unconditionally. He is my all, in all. Gone Fishing is an extract from the book, 'The Maverick's Roundup by Gwenneth Leane. The book can be bought from WWW.kmlpublishing.com GONE FISHING![]() George Karpany, was the fisherman to beat all fishermen. I had never seen anyone catch fish like he could. 'Bruce, come around Saturday morning and I will take you fishing,’ George issued an invitation to me. ‘I don’t know, George, I’m not a fisherman.’ I was very doubtful about the expedition although I knew I’d enjoy George’s company. ‘Come on, we’ll go out in my boat,’ George was grinning as if he had a secret weapon. ‘OK. I’ll come.’ George dropped anchor just off some willows growing along the riverbank at Berri. We threw in our lines. George hauled fish in hand over fist. I hauled in zero hand over fist. ‘Try my bait,’ George teased. Not a bite. ‘Hey, you should have used more black shoe polish before you came out,’ George was enjoying himself at my discomfort. Zero fish! ![]() 'Tell you what,’ said George, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire, ‘change places with me and use my line.’ So we changed places and I took his line. Zero fish! His bag was full. He caught fish like there was no tomorrow. I came home with a bag full of fish that I hadn’t caught – they had all got away. No, they never even nibbled my bait. It was George who had caught enough for him and me both. One Sunday morning when we arrived for church, George ducked out of the shack, (George was a bean-pole of a man, but the shack had not been built for tall people). ‘Come with me,’ he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, ‘got something to show you.’ I followed, mystified as to what George wanted to show me. He busily pulled in a heavy line; on the end was a 60 pound Murray cod. The biggest fish I’d ever seen. Wow! Did that fish have a mouth. ‘Got this one tethered until the cod season opens on Monday,’ he confided proudly. He dropped the line and the fish disappeared into the muddy water. One Saturday afternoon Frank and I decided to take a few hours off from work and go fishing with our families. The worms had taken time off as well and we couldn’t find any. Frog hunting under stones and bark didn’t find them at home either. Eventually, we found a log just below the Berri pumping station from which to fish. We threw in our lines and sat down to wait and wait and wait… Coming up river in a row boat, we recognized George. ‘How you getting on boys, getting any fish?’ he called out. ‘Nay! A few bites that’s all,’ Frank had to admit. George shipped his oars, he rowed his boat facing frontward not backward as white people do, grabbed a big callop out of the boat, hit it on the head with a shifting wrench and threw it to Frank. ‘Here’s one for dinner,’ he chuckled. ‘No, no,’ Frank objected, ‘we can’t take your fish, you want to sell them.’ ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty,’ and George pulls up what he calls a pond made of wire netting. It was full of fish. ‘I’ve got another one of these down there by that log.’ My life of fishing ended there and then. It seemed more sense to do what I was good at, fishing for men. The fish and I now RIP
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Author: "You can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page" - Jodi Picoult
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