It is better you are there and I am here.

Because of the physical smile his words create. See, you smile.

“Now tequila may be the favoured beverage of outlaws but that doesn't mean it gives them preferential treatment. In fact, tequila probably has betrayed as many outlaws as has the central nervous system and dissatisfied wives. Tequila, scorpion honey, harsh dew of the doglands, essence of Aztec, crema de cacti; tequila, oily and thermal like the sun in solution; tequila, liquid geometry of passion; Tequila, the buzzard god who copulates in midair with the ascending souls of dying virgins; tequila, firebug in the house of good taste; O tequila, savage water of sorcery, what confusion and mischief your sly, rebellious drops do generate!” Tom Robbins

Five Things

Close your eyes and imagine you've ship wrecked on a island. There are waves, sun, gawky seagulls, sand, and seaweed. Imagination or not, the ship has run up on some rocks you can't see because they're under the water and you have to swim-slash-wade through the shark infested tide to the shell infested shore. It's not pretty and at this point neither are you.

The game says you can pick five items to help you survive. "Only five", you say! Most dudes you ask will include matches, a trap, some kind of tool, etc.. There are many versions to this game and surviving on the deserted island has never been a part of mine. My imagination goes quickly to the rescue and how I'll look when that Navy ship sends a vessel of it's best looking sailors to save me from my doomed life of loneliness and sugar free coconut lattes.

My five items represent a whole different kind of survival.


The first of my five objects is a worn pair of blue jeans. They fit well, hug my booty with perfection, and are just dark enough to give that slimming affect at any angle. I can dig clams, shimmy palm trees, and jump up and down when I see a dinghy on the horizon. Whether torn, worn, or frayed, these blue jeans won't betray my Cosmopolitan ego or my need to protect my gams from crabs, bugs, or creepy volleyball heads.


Item number 2: My deep orange Pashmina. It was gift that brings out the green in my eyes. I wouldn't think of being rescued without it. The mere brightness of it's hue would signal rescuers from across the sea while also shielding my delicate skin from the glaring island sun, crabs, and the crisp starry night. This stunning orange wrap could also be used as a fishing net - if for some unsightly reason I was stranded for more than a week. Which, by the way, is the longest I've ever gone without food. Eight days tops and that's considering I have lemon juice, cayenne pepper, and maple syrup. You might have heard of the Lemonade Cleanse, or as I like to think of it; Preparation for Deserted Island Scenario.



Number three is very near and dear to my heart. And my lips. Cherry chap stick can be found in two out of three purse pockets, my night stand drawer, the worn blue jeans' left pocket, every room in my home, and work place. I do not go ANYWHERE without it. And that especially includes a deserted island. The sun is harsh and these lips are moist and if I were to ever meet a crab without it, he'd be sorry. Scarlett O'Hara was quoted in Gone with the Wind as saying, "As God is my witness.... If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again." My personal Tara story ends with, "As God as my witness... I'll never have chapped lips again." This is not the moment in which you pass judgement, it is the moment in which you say, "Amen."


My fourth possession is a silver cherub pendant. I hardly leave home without it. It hangs around my neck in glamour, in tradition, and as a promise. It's my personal rainbow. I believe the first thing Noah did on dry land was have a rainbow tattooed on his shoulder to remind him of God's promise that he would never destroy the world again with a flood (fitting, considering I'm stranded on an island surrounded by water). My silver cherub is not a tattoo, but reminds me just the same that God will take care of me. Deserted island, vicious crabs, or not I find much comfort in God's promises.


Last, but not least, are my white strips - Five Minutes to a Brighter Smile! I could be dressed in rags, sun burned from head to toe, worn blue jeans soaked in salt water, and angry crabs hanging from each lobe, but if I maintain a smile whiter than the sun these pearly whites could signal a ship of hot sailors from 6000 miles away. "I am ready to be rescued and pose for Cover Girl!"

Just because your five items don't include ice skates for a potential root canal, a palm frawn hammock, or a human hair crab net doesn't mean you'll never be rescued. It just means you'll have much less explaining to do.

Go ahead. Figure out your five items. Everyone should think it through once. It's all about being prepared. For anything. (wink squid ink)

i float above you unangelic

lifted from your belly

Biscuit!

For the first time in my life true responsibility has prevented me from accomplishing something.

I used to believe that 'adding hours to the day' was something you just said to make conversation. Because, well, everyone is busy and has too much on their plate.

But what I really thought was, "If your priorities were straight, you would make sure you had time to do what you wanted.

So, in consideration and genuine effort to not be an ass, more hours in a day would be great.

OK, I'm a jerk. But so are you if you exaggerate on how busy you are. Everyone can relate, so don't talk like you don't have time for Facebook. Everyone has time for FB.

If you can't find time to work on your 1000 piece Audubon puzzle. That. I believe. And seriously, who wants to do that anyway, unless it's been raining for three straight days and the cable's out.

Requiem of a Bird

I snagged a feather with the corner of my eye.

It conducted something in the fifth all the way to the ground.

When I looked to see the bird that had traveled such a distance.

The sun blotted out his disposition.

Dirty and Repulsive

While balancing on his good leg he wedges his crutch between the door jam and the door. The bell rings hard with every jolt. The maneuver has been perfected, but not without intruding on morning's natural lull. Above the low vibration of grinding coffee he speaks, "Woo." "How you doin' this morning?"



In an effort to mask my disturbance I answer, "I'm good, Rodriguez, How are you?"



"Oh, I'm fine My blood sugar was low last night and I'm on my way to ther-py You tired I know you tired You work hard Can I have some water god bless you."



Sliding a glass of ice water across the counter I tell Rodriguez that it is 7:30am, I am not tired yet, God does bless me, and he'd better get moving if he wants to make ther-Ah-py on time.
He says, "Yes ma'am You good to me god bless you I know you tired You date black men Where's your mama That other one working today god bless you."



He leaves - forty five minutes later. Now I'm tired.



Rodriquez is a man in his late thirties who had a great job delivering furniture with an upstate business for eleven years. A moment of random, violent crime changed his life. He was robbed and crippled for $3.28. They kicked in his knee and drove away. He couldn't work. He started drinking and smoking crack.


Rodriguez lost hope.

He waves, walks a few steps, and waves again. He's smiling a wide crooked smile. His teeth are brown, and crowding his mouth. He doesn't brush them because his house does not have running water. It doesn't have electricity either. He waves and smiles and waves and smiles and thinks bad thoughts. His mind is corrupt and he'll do anything for a can of beer.

At first it was easy to give him water. He was polite and guarded. He would drink and sit quietly. Customers came and went hardly noticing he wasn't like them, but every day that passed gave rise to familiarity. I began to discover who Rodriquez was and who he had become. His ease with me brought about change. He felt more comfortable, less inhibited. HotRod was getting on my nerves. He talked constantly: stupid questions, rehearsed apologies and blessings. He was a rogue. But I was no longer naive.

I smiled at him less and less. I didn't return the friendly foolishness. The water became a chore. His very presence was agitating. His dark side repulsed me. I would avoid eye contact and turn away.

Then one day a customer commented on how beautiful Coffee to a Tea was and asked "Why in Heaven's name were we in West Greenville?" I answered the way I always do, "God led us here."

But did He really? I began to examine my situation. Did God lead me here to prove I have what it takes to make a business work - AND in the most challenging area I could find? Did He want to humble me or make me appreciate what I have? Was He involved at all? Am I actually blaming God for where I am?

Rodriquez doesn't care why I'm in West Greenville. Neither does Joseph, or Otis, or Mike, or Eddy, or Allison, Cody, Gordon, Jennifer, John, Elaine, Anthony, Stan, the artists, the business owners, the residents. They would go on with or without me.

But I wouldn't. West Greenville has changed me. When I go to bed at night, I fall asleep naming them one by one. I think of them always. I love them and want to be invested in their lives. Some of them are easy to love, while others are not. I ask God and he gives me this:

Jesus said, "I tell you the truth ...'For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’ They answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’ He replied, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me."

Rodriquez still gets on my nerves. He's still dirty and repulsive. But I love him, and if I love him I will treat him as those I love. I will give him water until he bursts. I will answer his stupid questions and tolerate his lies. I will love him because I love my Savior who first loved me - dirty, repulsive, me. I am no better than the 'least of these'. Jesus didn't say to me "whatever you do for them and don't worry, it will be easy..."

He said, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it:

'Love your neighbor (The Rod Squad) as yourself.' "