Category Archives: The Stories

My Sanctuary

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The daily post has challenged us,

A sanctuary is a place you can escape to, to catch your breath and remember who you are. Write about the place you go to when everything is a bit too much.

You can learn about other oases at

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/oasis/

It’s funny I live in a world of sanctuaries. A minister, after all, is never far from a church and every church has a sanctuary.

The sanctuary of St. Bavo’s in Haarlem
Cornerstone church’s sanctuary VBS
The Sanctuary of the Nieuwe Kerk in Delft

But for all that I would not say I find sanctuaries particularly peaceful places. Perhaps it is in the quiet of a church sanctuary that others find peace. But in these places I go to work. It’s in these locations I wage my war with the souls of men.

There are moments, for all that, when I find the sanctuary a quiet sanctuary. Early on a Sunday morning before anyone arrives for service, for instance (though that has to be pretty early) or late at night after everyone has gone home. But if I am going to speak of an oasis, a place of refreshing, a location of constant quiet and peace I would have to say that is my bedroom. I don’t work there. It’s my space and no one else’s. I can read. I can pray. I can recreate. Beyond that the world’s expectations do not encroach.

The Change I’d Like To Make

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The Daily post has asked us today…What change, big or small, would you like your blog to make in the world?

Almost a decade ago I wrote my life mission statement. That was to create around myself a culture of worship. The method I felt led to use was the arts. To that end I have tried several things, my blogs Reinventing the We’ll and Lillie-Put being two of those chosen methods.

I would like to see the readers of Lillie-Put encouraged ina positive direction and challenged toward knowing and worshipping God as a result of what I write. Many of my blogs are not directly related to the ideas of worship but are artistic in form and relational in nature. Blogging is a connective art form and I hope in some small way through those connections to draw people into the joyful and loving presence of a living God.

Be blessed!

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Find other answers to this question at:

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/be-the-change/

Who I Would Choose To Be!

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Today the Daily Post has asked us… If you could spend the next year as someone radically different from the current “you” — a member of a different species, someone from a different gender or generation, etc. — who would you choose to be?

I wouldn’t choose a different gender and probably not a different species although being my dog for a day might not be too bad. But I would choose to be part of a different generation if only for a while. I would choose to be someone who actually made it all the way through a great conflict like World War II or maybe the American Revolution just to see how they did it. Maybe it’s just because I saw the movie Unbroken the other night and something in it resonated with me.

Louis Zemperini, The hero of Unbroken

I can’t help but feel our own generation is on the precipice of some great conflict and that we are about to walk in an emotional space we are unfamiliar with. I would like to know what to expect and maybe that whatever is required of me is actually already inside.

Do you sense something huge is coming for our generation?

Check out who others would choose to be at

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/new-skin/

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The Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy Prompt

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Today the Daily Post has asked us… We cry for lots of reasons: sadness, pain, fear . . . and happiness. When was the last time you shed tears of joy?

You can find other answers at

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/happy-happy-joy-joy/

My answer….

I am not much of a weeper. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I have actually wept outright. Heart of stone this one…really. But I do have to admit that I teared up walking my daughter down the ailse at her wedding rehearsal. By the wedding I had fully composed myself. I had to after all. I was singing and there is nothing worse than crying to ruin a good wedding song, but as I walked my little girl down to meet her groom on that rehearsal evening it suddenly struck me this was me walking with my baby girl on her last night as a single woman. I suppose some choose to look at that as sad but I think of it as a moment of poignance and wonder. She chose a good man. She chose a good future. Some day I may even be a grampa and they have suggested the name Bopa for me. I guess I could be a Bopa. What do you think?

I walk Melanie down the aisle.

I walk Melanie down the aisle.

The Daily Prompt and All Grown Up

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The Daily Post has asked us…”When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?”

I can actually remember this one quite clearly. I did not feel grown-up at eighteen when I registered for selective service or to vote. I did not feel grown-up when I married at nineteen just before my twentieth birthday. The grown up feeling did not arrive with the birth of my son or my daughters. I really expected to feel like an adult at these major junctions of life but somehow they just left me feeling more like a kid than ever. The sense of “am I ready for this?” And “Wow! I have no idea what I am doing.” really popped out big in each of those moments and made me feel decidedly un-grown up.

All those years I wanted to feel “grown-up”. I hungered for the feeling but no matter how hard I tried I just could not drum it up. I worked. I provided. I acted like a grown-up (mostly). I just never felt like one. Then on my thirty-fifth birthday it hit me. It came unbidden without fanfare or any kind of life-changing event. I blew the candles out on my cake and just knew. “I’m a grown-up” or maybe it is better to say I just knew, “I’m not a kid anymore.”

Strange to say, from that day forward I have wanted nothing more than to return to childhood. Funny how that works isn’t it?

Friday Fictioneers: The Laska Steps

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It is time for Friday Fictioneers again. Here is this week’s 100 word story based on the prompt given by Rochelle at

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/12/24/26-december-2014/

PHOTO PROMPT - Copyright -Björn Rudberg

When you have finished my story go to Rochelle’s site and click on the blue frog to read Rochelle’s other contributors.

The Laska Steps

Another scene from Higher Places

https://josephelonlillie.com/2014/03/08/friday-fictioneers-higher-places/

By JE Lillie

She massaged the knots in my shoulders but I could not relax.

“Don’t be afraid. There is no power here that can touch us.” she whispered.

I smiled even as my insides rebelled against her words.

She might be safe. Her God was more powerful than mine, more powerful than any god I had ever encountered.

But would His protection extend to me? These after all were the forbidden Laska steps.

“I’ll go first.” She said.

Before I could count ten she was at the top.

I followed and entered the place my people could never go. Our love had survived.

Daily Prompt: Getting Seasonal

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Today the daily post at

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/getting-seasonal/

has challenged us to write from this theme…

The holiday season: can’t get enough of it, or can’t wait for it all to be over already? Has your attitude toward the end-of-year holidays changed over the years?

 

My mother is an avowed “Christmasphobe”, always has been and as she is now in her late 70’s, probably always will be. My sister is mom’s foil when it comes to Christmas. She practically sneezes yuletide glitter out her nostrils. The resulting firestorm that comes in the spaces between these two ladies can be dangerous to navigate indeed. Whether to decorate the tree or burn the tree is a yearly discussion in our household.

I suppose my nack for survival  has made me a real middle of the road kind of guy when it comes to Christmas. We can neither deny the day nor can we celebrate and make merry like Fezziwig without causing caniptions in certain members of  our household. Balance is the key to a merry Christmas you see.

For myself I love the holiday. I love its true meaning apart from the trapping of lights and decorations, Santa and reindeer. I love the quiet cacophony of the Christ child born in a manger on a starry night lauded by angels and shepherds and kings. I would not hurry this sacred season. Neither do I want to lay myself low with over-indulgence and too much activity.

Our lead pastor asked this question in his sermon last week: “Why is it that the greatest celebrations bring the greatest tension in families?”

Perhaps it is because the people who can’t get enough and the people who can’t wait until it’s over are not willing to come to the middle of the road and accept that enough is as good as a feast until it’s over.

I have changed in my attitude over the years. I am settled into the seasons of life. I enjoy them for what they are and I do not mourn when they pass because they are all just a piece of the greater experience we call life and that is a very full thing.

The Daily Post: Sweet Little Lies

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Today the Daily Post has asked us…

As kids, we’re told, time and again, that lying is wrong. Do you believe that’s always true? In your book, are there any exceptions?

Check out how others have responded to this question at

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/sweet-little-lies/

Santa’s Dead And Other Things Not To Tell A Six Year Old.

Well I guess you can tell where this one’s going. I always wanted Christmas to be about the Christ child for my children and one of the things that has always gone up my left nostril is the commercialism that comes with the season. The American version of Santa Claus as the guy who plasters the Christmas tree with expensive electronics, jewelry and the newest version of everything just kind of irks me. Don’t get me wrong I take pleasure in giving gifts as much as the next guy but when I have to worry about paying the credit card bills or rent something’s rotten in the good ole US OF A.

Now we didn’t want to destroy the “magic” of Christmas for our children, just maybe dent it a little. We found this book called ‘The True Story of Santa Claus” And during the holiday season we began to read this story to our children and answer their questions about Santa. It was at this time that I learned about sharing only as much of the truth as a person can handle. I am not an advocate of lying in any way, shape or form but before a person is delivered the truth they have to be prepared to be responsible with truth. We told our kids the truth and I still think that was right. Where we fell off the wisdom wagon  was in not instructing them what to do with the truth.

So, picture this. We are on our way Christmas shopping at the mall. My six-year-old, very truthful daughter is sitting in the back with her five-year-old very sensitive cousin. And the conversation goes something like this.

Tyler: Oh I can’t wait to get to the store so we can see all the toys. I’m going to look and see and then I am going to write my letter to Santa and he is going to bring me…

Melanie: Tyler your parents buy your Christmas gifts. Santa’s dead.

End of story. If you want a peaceful Christmas season with your extended family let the lie about Santa live long enough for your children to learn to keep the secret…Santa is dead!

Friday Fictioneers: The Unwashed

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Every week at Friday Fictioneers Rochelle challenges us to write a 100 word story from a photo prompt. This week’s prompt along with her contributors stories can be found here

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/12/10/12-december-2014/

Below is the photo prompt and my attempt at the story

PHOTO PROMPT - Copyright - Sandra Crook

The Unwashed

by JE Lillie

I walk along the shore and sort through the baubles. Papa has sent me to collect what I can for trading at the market. He’s not really my Pa just all I have left since that day.

I find a bar of soap partially dissolved in the goo. I wonder to myself how long it’s been since I took a bath. I bend to pick up the cleaner remembering what a hot shower feels like. I pull hard because the soap sticks and as it comes away from the ground the last finger that held the bar comes with it. Now I recall why I hate the water.

Friday Fictioneers: Encased

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flowers with Ice-Janet Webb (2)

Above is the photo prompt for this week’s Friday Fictioneers a flash fiction challenge offered up by Rochelle. You can find her response to the challenge and those of her contributors at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/12/03/5-december-2014/

Here is my response.

Encased:

By JE Lillie

The days which followed the ice were dark and cold not  because they were dark and cold.We had no lights, no heat, no refrigeration, no phones, no computers but all that was expected. The felling of 10,000 trees had cut us off from the rest of society. It was the loneliness that nearly drove us mad.

It was a week before we heard the chain saws coming up our road. Someone in town hall had remembered we were out there and thought we might need help. That was the year Daddy stopped being a doomsday prepper and moved us into the condo in town.