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#3023 - Friday, December 21, 2007 - Editor: Jerry Katz

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  • Jerry Katz
    #3023 - Friday, December 21, 2007 - Editor: Jerry Katz The Nonduality Highlights The writing of Vicki Woodyard is featured: http://www.bobwoodyard.com ~ ~ ~
    Message 1 of 1 , Dec 21, 2007
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      #3023 - Friday, December 21, 2007 - Editor: Jerry Katz
       
      The Nonduality Highlights
       
       
       
      The writing of Vicki Woodyard is featured: http://www.bobwoodyard.com
       
      ~ ~ ~
       
      Christmas with J.C.

      All of this knocking and opening and supping is wearing me down. Night
      after night I answer the knock and find myself serving Him things like
      frozen minestrone popped into the microwave. I can’t say we have
      conversations; I am too busy serving Him the soup.

      Let’s just say that the motions have become as smooth as silk, knock,
      open, sup. Knock, open, sup. There is a definite pattern to all of this
      schtick we seem to do. Some nights we have broccoli and salmon and other
      times it may be some cheese pizza and a salad.

      Of course I know who He is; who wouldn’t. The man from Galilee is
      rapping at my door. In His knocking He seems to be assuming I will open
      so we can begin the feast. I haven’t the nerve to tell Him it’s about
      time He fed me. Besides, there is always the chance that there will
      prove to be some benefit to me providing the food.

      Maybe a trip to Vegas or some blue-watered Caribbean resort. Not sure if
      His attire would work, though. Some sort of white robe and sandals.
      Probably wouldn’t make it through security. He is looking straight at me
      while I am writing this. He must know that it’s time for dinner and here
      I am telling you all of my secrets.

      We sat down at my small table and I served Him wine and cheese; it was
      Christmas Eve. When I looked up I saw a heavenly host. I hoped they
      hadn’t come to eat. I only had enough for the two of us.

      With Apologies to The Hound of Heaven

      The guy who is supping with me is also tailing me. “Look,” I told Him,
      “I know You said You would be with me always, but what about the Ladies
      Room? Or the fitting room at Macy’s. Could You make yourself scarce then?’

      It’s not easy to level with God’s Only Son, especially at the mall.
      We’ve been doing some Christmas shopping and He is really hard to buy
      for. Says He has everything. I am downright envious. He probably has
      Tivo and a GPS. What to give Him?

      As we walked in and out of stores, I saw people looking at us wondering
      if we were a couple. Or maybe it was His beard. That’s it. Maybe a new
      razor...wouldn’t set me back that much. He’s looking at me while I am
      thinking this. He seems to know everything.

      Since we were at the mall and I was getting hungry, I suggested instead
      of Him knocking and me opening, we could just grab a sandwich and some
      fries. We found a table in the food court and I think He really enjoyed
      it. He probably doesn’t have high cholesterol like I do, so He might as
      well get dessert, too. While He was eating a fried pie, He looked at me
      and said, “I wish you would get rid of that shirt.” I looked at it and
      had to agree. It said “I’m with Stupid.”

      Lose and You Win

      Jesus and I were playing Scrabble. He always wants to win. He seems to
      know all of the right moves, but He insists on using words like shant
      and hath and doth.

      I got up to nuke some popcorn and I heard a loud hallelujah from Him.
      Yep, He had made a seven-letter word, “messiah.”

      The thing is, He is the Word. Pretty clever, that. But then I knew what
      he had been doing when He was in the temple. Playing Scrabble.

      *****

      He tells me that if I paid more attention I might be able to beat Him.
      And then He turns around and makes another seven letter word and smirks.

      He is the point-counter, yet tells me that it isn’t good to keep score.
      “Oh, please,” I said, “let’s not turn this into a Sunday School class.”
      He was so into teaching me that for once I beat him. I will now tell you
      in two short words what happened next. Jesus wept!

      He is so competitive. The other night He closed His eyes for a moment
      and I took a quick look at the pad. Everything was kosher. But I keep
      losing. And as He says, trying to make me feel better, “Lose and you win.”

      He also tells me to look up, hence the crick in my neck. He walks with
      me to CVS so I can get some salve for it. At Walk and Don’t Walk I make
      a discovery. Sometimes He disappears even though He is there. I was
      counting on Him to help me cross against traffic. A bus is coming toward
      me.

      I jump out of the way. Jesus, that was close!

      “I tell you to look up, but you’re forgetting something that isn’t in
      the Bible. Look both ways before you cross the street.”

      “If I’m walking with you, you shouldn’t do that disappearing act on me,”
      I grumped.

      “How will you learn anything if you don’t develop a bit of independence.
      Yes, I am here, but you are, too.”

      Good point. This is neither here nor there, but I think it’s time we
      stopped at Starbuck’s.

      *****

      Pretty Human

      Jesus and I stopped by a living nativity scene last week. No one
      recognized Him for He was dressed just like everybody else. I was
      surprised to see Him wearing a phone on His belt. Seems the prayer line
      is real and He has unlimited minutes. He’s pretty human.

      So we’re making the manger scene. Watching Mary and Joseph regard Him as
      a baby. Looking at the donkey and camel and sheep....the shepherds and
      the magi. It’s pretty honkin’ unreal to be there with The Real Deal
      standing beside me.

      I ask Him how authentic it is. He smiles and says, not unkindly, “Well,
      the shepherds I remember weren’t wearing Crocs.”
       
      ~ ~ ~

      Vicki Woodyard
      http://www.bobwoodyard.com
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