Category Archives: Faith

“Day in Court”

I was 15 years old, visiting my Dad in Edmonton Alberta during my high school Spring break in Washington State. Strangely He and I went on a shopping spree. Blue plaid suit, deep blue shirt and a white tie. 


The next day we got up early. Dad standing in front of me shirtless freshly shaven, smelled of Aqua Velva, and his fine thin brown hair still wet. A lit Export “A” cigarette hung in his lips, the neglected ash fought the forces of gravity as he struggled to complete a full Windsor knot in my new tie. Looking me over, it was if he was searching for something he had lost long ago. 

Securing each button on his dress shirt, his “Born to Love” jailhouse tattoo on his chest slowly disappeared from sight…….
Sitting in a narrow hallway of a provincial court, for what seemed hours, little did I know, I was to be Exhibit A in his “day in court”. Dull humming of the flickering fluorescent lights was interrupted by a “Click, Clack” as the court door opened. “Raymond, come in here”. Wincing I entered the brightly lit court room. Unaccustomed to the tie, my throat tightened as I saw a room full of serious faces. I sensed that a dialogue had been taking place and I was about to become part of it. My ears were ringing, I felt like I was looking through a fisheye lens. My Dad glancing at me with out making full eye contact. (He was somewhere else mentally) “Raymond,tell everyone how old you are”. 

I blurted out, “15 years old sir”. 

All eyes were on me, still oblivious to what was going on. Through the fog, my Dad was pointing at me, I heard “Your Honor, this how I looked!” “This is how old I was when I was arrested for joyriding in a jeep and sent into general population”! Still a bit puzzled, Dad gave me a quick glance of reassurance, and escorted me back in the hall. 

The story continues with me coming to understand the high level of abuse and mistreatment my Father experienced as a teen while in “custody”. During one particular incident he was forced to clean up the room directly under the gallows. 

I hadn’t heard these details until I was sixteen and with his death shortly after that, I put these stories away. It was too much to carry as a teenager. 
If this was my Dad’s “day in court”. Why had I felt judged? Why did I feel the weight of the chains that seemed to still bind him? 
Was the click of the courtroom door the securing of an emotional lock for which I had not the key? 

What had I done? Answer? Not a damn thing! 
As a teen, part of the burden was simply knowing that injustices such as these even existed. Wanting to rectify the injustice against your loved one is only natural and I had to accept the fact that this was HIS “Day in Court”. Those were HIS choices, and not mine. I would and still have many of my own mistakes to pay for.

There is importance in speaking out against injustice. Getting a “Day In Court” may seem ideal but a sobering fact is that justice as you perceive it may not prevail. 

Secondly, understand who “The Court” is before asking for them to pass judgment. Otherwise, be not surprised when “the judgemental” judge you. 

Finally, as a Dad of 5, the only one wearing a blue plaid suit to MY “Day in Court” will be me.


RIP GJR 

Peace. 

Living In Tension 

True personal growth comes when you choose to honestly communicate and understand those you have conflict with even if it means living in tension and being accountable for each of your own actions. This is when discrimination and self serving categorization of others ends. 

If you are of Christian persuasion, please remember, Christ did not come as more commandments on a stone tablet, rigid, cold and without feeling but, rather a warm, loving, and totally transparent being. 

I Am Sorry 

Three simple words , without knowing the context, have endless implications/applications. A simple accidental bump into someone, if you interrupt someone, a common courtesy, These type of apologies are typically immediate. The phrase is a polite gesture allowing us to coexist in a somewhat civil society. Making amends can also vary culturally. For example, in Japan the word for sorry is “gomen”. If you are at fault in a car accident, even before judgement and damages are awarded, you are culturally expected to offer what is referred to as “gomen money”. Those familiar with the Far East understand that “saving face”, a karma centered ideology, yields a population of humility and tolerance. I admire the Japanese tact that it in a sense, requires a time of reflection as well as setting the stage for the more western ideology of forgiveness. 
 Humility and forgiveness go hand in hand I have often wondered if it is possible to forgive without an apology. Additionally, must you forgive when an apology is given. For me I believe the answer is simple. If the apology is sincere, it makes it easy to forgive.
However, If insincerity is present does the apology mean anything? I remember when I was around 10, being full of myself, sharing with my Dad Tony, how someone had wronged me and the next day she had apologized to me. I smugly shared, “I told her I didn’t accept her apology”. He immediately scolded me and made it clear that if someone makes the effort to apologize, you damn well better accept it. Looking back, my not wanting to accept the apology was a lapse in judgment in the form of wanting to hurt, those that hurt me. The apology and her taking ownership was the key to breaking the cycle of vengeance and arrogance. We are human, as the Bible says in Matthew 5 23:25, if you come to the altar with a gift but have conflict in your heart with your brother, leave immediately and go to your accuser so that you may resolve the conflict, and then once again return to the altar with a clear heart. 

If an apology never comes? That’s where forgiveness in order for you to move forward is so crucial. 

Peace to you. 

The Longing by Raymond Roy : Stones #writephoto

The Longing 

Nails clicking waiting. Joelle’s heavily lipsticked full crimson lips stuck together, slowly separating as her jaw dropped. Her warm breath gently billowed into the cool sea air. Finally he had arrived. The loud exhaust of the dilapidated truck deflected and echoed against the stone arch. Turning off the ignition, the engine sputtered on, ending with a small backfire. Not being of similar pedigree, it was obnoxious incidents and sounds like this,in her world would be deemed uncouth but made him all the more interesting. 

He sat in the driver’s seat looking at Joelle with a crooked grin. His thin lips quickly pulled back to a display a toothy smile. He reached with his right hand to the outside handle, unlatched his door and stepped out. She had been waiting two long years for his return. Now he was only feet away and it was if she were standing in clay unable to move. He moved towards her, seeing her shiver, removed his woollen dress uniform coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. With his right hand he lowered the tailgate. They sat down looking off into the ocean as they had so years before. He held her close saying, “I told you I’d be back”. She didn’t say a word but took a long deep breath as if to breathe him in. As the wind picked up, his pinned up left sleeve flapped in the breeze reminding him of what he had left on the battlefield. “I told you I’d be back”, he whispered. 

Written for Sue Vincent’s Photo Stones #writephoto Thank you Sue:) 

Dedicated to all those who served and those that gave those men and women, hope, love and understanding. Amen. 

Corporal Roy USMC 1981

Don Pancho:200 word Flash Fiction 

Don Pancho
End of a long day. 115f was the high today, calling for 120F tomorrow. Top off the jeep allowing the desert air to dry my hair. 

Entering the backyard just as the sun was going down. Norteño musica blared through dusty speakers, a mixed aroma of citronella oil and Mesquite filled the air. In the subdued light, a banquet table was calling. I filled my Dixie paper plate with doubled up corn tortillas with caramelized carne asada topped Pico de gallo and a dollop of crema fresca. The galvanized wash bin was filled bobbing golden metal topped Corona Extra bottles looking stranded titanic passengers pleading for rescue. I gladly accommodated.

The sun beaten screen door screeching for oil swung open and slammed shut. There he was, Don Pancho, standing just over 5 feet. He wore a straw cowboy hat. His silver sideburns made perfect bookends to his warm toothy smile. Out of respect, I stood and went to greet our host. “Hola, Don Pancho! I said. “Hola Raymundo, bienvenidos! ” I shook his calloused hand, a hard working hand of over 70 years. I had seen him out work men half his age. 

This is the Mexico I know. 

Word Count: 201

Don Pancho was not a fictional character, he was a well respected man that I had the honor of working with during my 9 year tenure as a landscape irrigation specialist during this period, Yuma,AZ. Man he could make a mean BBQ chicken. May God Keep him always. Peace. 

Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story ~200 words based on a given photo prompt given(above) Hosted by Al Forbes. details visit Here

To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here

The Omega 13: “15 seconds” of time travel(or how Galaxy Quest saved our marriage) 

“God Bless my first wife”my second wife of almost 20 years often thanks god for her “breaking me in”. Broken in or not, one thing if we are being honest, most married couples/couples can attest to is, people say Stupid S#%t. 

In the 1999 Comedy science fiction movie Galaxy Quest, what looked like a not-so-happy ending for the heroic crew was reversed by the “Omega 13 “, a super-charged time travel device which turns back time, you guessed it, for 13 seconds. Who knew that a prop from a Star Trek spoof would be key to improving a relationship. 

The “Omega 13” Copyright by Dreamworks LLC.

The Secret of the Omega 13

When you activate the Omega 13 or what we refer to as “15 Seconds”

When one says “15 Seconds!”, 

1. What was said in the last 15 Seconds is immediately drawn into a black hole located ~6 degrees of off The North Star. 
2. You are immediately admitting you messed up

3. It allows you a second GO by rephrasing, or simply shutting up and hugging the other person.(Wearing a protective cup may be advised if you choose the hugging approach and your initial blurt was incite-ful vs.”Insightful”)

4. You break the tension in the moment because you start thinking of that ridiculous movie and still are amazed that this crazy tool works. 

5. It allows the other person to show mercy. 

6. It allows you to laugh 

I think the real reason “15 seconds” works is because we both are committed to it working. It’s a sign that when you are both spent and really don’t fell like butting heads, you are both willing to (queue Cher, try not to think of that song) turn back time, and find your way, Together. Peace. 

Vapor

  As winter sets in and with the human tendency is to hibernate, comes reflection. Drawing upon memories both recent and past, memories can be like vapor. Like vapor, you cannot hold them in your hand, misty visualizations just a thought away.

As time passes the fog may thicken making way for one’s own interpretation. 

Depending on your motivation/disposition, those seeking pity as a survivor of hardship may exaggerate past experiences embellishing details as for the creation of ones own personal “Odyssey”. 

On the other end of the spectrum, circumstances of mediocre events can be reshaped/glorified, placing them on a pedestal as a trophy which was never warranted. 

Recognizing that there are times when we are in the valley and our lives lack joy and happiness. Where else do we have to turn but our memories? 

During these melancholiac times, memories can easily turn to bitterness because of the longing for the “glory days”. A cautionary note during this yearning for what was, our vision may be clouded to the blessings directly in front of us. I cannot think of better insurance in the pursuit of happiness than to make a daily deposit of thankfulness into our memory banks. Thankfulness for what is right in front of us. Peace.