Scarlet Robe Creations

He opened his eyes, although he wasn't certain they were ever really closed.  He sat in a chair, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable.  An open field surrounded him.  Green grass and wild flowers of yellows and purples stretched to the horizon.  The only interruption, a blemish, on the idyllic scene, was another man in a chair facing his. The other man seemed out of focus.  His features were unclear.  The first man, the one who had just opened his eyes, tried to identify the man who was little more than a blemish against the meadow. "Who are you?" He asked, not expecting an answer, as the idea that he was in a dream brought on by... that was it... the accident.  He'd been driving too fast.  He lost control of his Ferrari. 'That was a fantastic car,' he mused, forgetting about the man, without discernable features, sitting across from him. "What have you done with that which I have given you?" The out of focus man finally spoke. The Ferrari, yes, ...

You exist on the brink of life. What will become rests on the decision of another. How could one  squander the gift? What is it now, perhaps just a cluster of cells, the world's view, nothing more than an inconvenience? Or maybe a gift offered by the hand of creation. There are excuses, many. Some show where your heart truly lies. Others show the Godly desire to hold the tiny hand of your child in your own. copyright 2025 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

They are not yours. Do not think such. They are entrusted. They are brought to you,      so you might nurture. Do no harm. Leave your pride bound up. They are your focus. It is like this with all gifts. When I bring another into your life,     a child,          a spouse, give your all,     or you will have nothing. They will always be mine,     just as you are mine. They will return to me     unblemished... if you simply love. copyright 2024 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

It was a maintenance shop, like any other.  There was grease, dirt and tools.  There were men who worked with their hands.  Sometimes their words were coarse.  Usually they didn't care. It was the twenty-third day of the month.  The holiday was two days away.  One of the men was single and would spend the holiday at home with his parents.  Two would be with their spouses.  One would visit his brother and sister-in-law, and their two young children. Rob had brought two unfinished gifts, for his niece and nephew, into the shop.  The other three came and gathered around, cups of coffee in hand, to offer their opinions and suggestions.   "Gonna take some cleaning up," Rick said. "And I have paint," Rob added. "You plan to paint them in here?" Rick queried. "The paint smell will go right up the hallway.  Pete will have a fit." The verbal response to Rick's words was colorful.  All four decided they would deal with Pete's wrath ...

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others,  as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms. 1 Peter 4:10 Gifts, God's design through us, words we see as insignificant, talents we see as insufficient. Gifts, God's daily grace in our lives, of His creation, not ours. Gifts, His prayer through us to a people in need, never ours through Him. Gifts, love that serves the servants, bringing no glory to the giver, but only to God. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

One came in his robes, proud of himself and the status he held. He sang praises in the open courtyard.   One would say he was a faithful servant.   He smiled when his title was shared as such. There were beggars. There were those covered with the sores of disease. He steered clear of the harlot and her tattered children. He is the most pious man ever seen.   His garments speak of his devout faith.   His public deeds show his love of fellow man. Look, he drops silver coins in the lap of the poor man. And the diseased one? They would stain him from his religious duties… and the prostitute is an abomination in the city streets. Where are the others who care for the stricken? Why do they not boast? Why do they not embrace those wearing public disdain? They do not beat their chests in places of worship. They do not lift their arms in praise, so others will witness. Their offerings are humble. They do not seek the ...