tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72551925218579462832024-03-15T18:38:44.814-04:00The Invisible SoulFROM THERE TO HERE, EXPERIENCE THE JOURNEY OF THE INVISIBLE SOUL! ©2024 George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-11507613006676081272024-03-15T18:25:00.004-04:002024-03-15T18:38:12.856-04:00Was It Love or Was It... Was It Love or Was It...According to Wikipedia, betrayal is defined as “the breaking or violation of a presumptive contract, trust, or confidence that produces moral and psychological conflict within a relationship amongst individuals.” Is this a story of betrayal or the story of a mother wanting to save the life of her son? You be the judge. At the age of five, I trailed behind aGeorge Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-54937973468261089332024-03-04T20:32:00.004-05:002024-03-04T20:50:57.579-05:00TeardropsTeardrops
I’m sitting here watching the lake today. It’s a beautiful day; the sun is shining so brightly, and the wind is very soft. With every bright day, there is always a chance a storm will pop up. Suddenly, the wind shifts direction, gaining strength, and I observe the clouds swiftly advancing over this picturesque lake. I can see the storm brewing in the back side of these clouds. George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-55463379030762583142024-02-19T21:25:00.005-05:002024-02-20T07:32:09.160-05:00Still RunningStill Running
I recently turn sixty-two. There is something about getting older that makes you think about your life. Some days, I wake up and hit the ground running, and some days I just seem to crawl. I feel like I’ve been running for a long time. My life’s journey has been an unfiltered and authentic experience.
My run began at five years of age when I was first removed from my home. IGeorge Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-82358512598688256652024-01-13T14:12:00.001-05:002024-01-20T10:49:26.775-05:00To My Girls (Short Film)
George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-62964142257643654002024-01-10T22:01:00.003-05:002024-01-10T22:02:16.022-05:00The Fire The Fire
Recently, I was challenged to write a story about someone who must keep a fire burning, surrounded by total darkness. I have been thinking about this for a few days and have been pondering what type of emotions I will have to explore to write this story. This has triggered a host of troubling emotions and thoughts. The darkness in my life has always been real.
The memory George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-1615523181875108382023-12-20T18:42:00.005-05:002023-12-20T18:43:04.944-05:00To My MomTo My Mom:
As I sit here and ponder on this story, the emotions needed to explore this may be too much. I’m just not sure; the door is yellow, which means enter, but be cautious in this journey. As you know, red doors are the only ones off limits right now for me.
I’m still sitting here, thinking about where to start. This story is much more difficult than the last. It seems there is a George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-50622849056277941822023-12-12T19:49:00.002-05:002023-12-12T19:50:40.034-05:00To My Dad To My Dad:
This is a continuation of my “to my” stories. This one may be abstract because I can’t see the person I’m talking about; I can’t see him as a daddy at all. I can’t see him as a man whom I was born after; I can’t even see him as a person. Memories are the foundational development of who we are as humans. This story has come to me after more than two years, visiting a wonderful George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-84374539744375038702023-12-01T12:10:00.003-05:002023-12-01T12:11:11.509-05:00I Love You! I Love You!
Through my journey to open emotional doors locked away for many years, I have stumbled on a host of lost and forgotten doors.
It’s the holiday season, and I wanted to write about a season of love that took place in the summer of 2005. It’s not a love like you are thinking about but a new love that I was shown. Love is not something you say but something you do. That’s George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-13051562116364403722023-10-12T16:51:00.005-04:002023-10-12T16:52:42.572-04:00The DifferenceThe DifferenceThe question I get asked most about my writing is why my style has changed and moved in a different direction. People comment that my recent stories don’t contain as many biblical scriptures as my early writings did. Why is that, they ask? This honest question has led me to ponder on this for several months now. I mean, when I’m writing I still listen to the same Hillsong, Jenn George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-63020883811149474572023-10-03T20:55:00.002-04:002023-10-03T20:56:23.046-04:00To My Girls To My Girls
I love you!
So, with that said, that could be the end of the story. The truth is, though, my love for my girls is only the beginning. For the past few stories, I have focused on the memories and emotions that come along with all that. It’s been happy and sad all at the same time. I have been able to navigate these new waters at my age with the help and guidance of some unique George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-5146556319814763982023-09-09T12:54:00.002-04:002023-09-09T12:56:04.831-04:00Time, Love and Beautiful Hugs Time, Love and Beautiful Hugs
This story was not planned; this is a continuation of the previous story, Emotions. I’m not sure if I have ever had a story to follow another story, but here it is.
After the exploration of emotions in the last story, I was not sure if I was ready for another adventure so quickly. My youngest daughter had decided that she and my three grandchildren wereGeorge Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-6409146236434351402023-08-23T19:43:00.001-04:002023-08-23T19:44:22.853-04:00Emotions Emotions
Emotions are extremely powerful. I have avoided them my whole life. I didn’t cry; I didn’t look sad, ever. All I ever did was smile. A fake facade to so many for so many years.
So why am I writing about these emotions today? For the last twenty-four months, I have been given permission to engage these emotions in a way I never thought possible. As I exited my therapy George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-74282063244212583142022-07-31T09:54:00.002-04:002022-07-31T09:55:34.627-04:00Perspective
At almost sixty years of age, I thought I would be experiencing peace, joy, happiness, love and all the other exceptional things life has to offer. I have experienced these things in the past. However, over the past two years, terror has invaded my soul and my mind and has brought me many sleepless nights and thoughts of death. Trauma from early childhood abuse has resurfaced with a vengeance George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-84086417465716138322021-01-02T15:51:00.004-05:002021-11-13T09:24:17.102-05:00 Shoelaces Shoelaces
As I sit here contemplating which of my fifty stories I need to finish, I realize none of them may ever be brought to life. The year 2020 silenced both my time and creativity. I guess you could say I got caught up in the politics and social media events that 2020 presented to us.
I’m acknowledging this as I sit peacefully on my front porch, facing the most beautiful lake in the George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0Lake Waccamaw, NC 28450, USA34.2534269 -78.497924799999993-44.9096584051529 140.8770752 90 62.127075200000007tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-18236908845697951232019-07-09T20:29:00.002-04:002021-11-23T20:46:33.174-05:00THE IMPERFECT MOVETHE IMPERFECT MOVE
To an outsider, our lives seem so perfect. We love the idea of creating the perfect life. Our lives are perfect, right?
The norm in our social culture is to appear perfect in front of our peers. We want to be at the top and to be better than any of our friends and family.
I was helping some friends move recently, and when we were ready to load the big stuff, we realizedGeorge Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-11824347216881055192017-03-24T20:08:00.004-04:002021-11-27T17:00:33.144-05:00God, Are You There?
God, Are You There?
“Hey, Mike, you there?” I whispered.
“Yes, George,” the small voice always answered. “I’m here.” I can’t tell you how much comfort and peace his voice and words brought me in a time of great trouble.
Being locked in a closet for what seemed like days was normal for me and my brother, Mike. Each day, my mother would drop us off at daycare. After she left, the George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-44595358409236750952016-10-07T19:50:00.002-04:002021-12-29T18:08:32.805-05:00All By Myself
All By Myself
by George W. Beasley
Life was once full of gloom. There was no hope and no promise of tomorrow, nothing but darkness. It was a very sad time and I felt all by myself. There have been many of these seasons in my life. I have often asked God, why?
The darkness has been so great at times that life itself seemed to have no value, and to be completely honest I didn't George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-89693832432545372482016-01-10T20:55:00.001-05:002021-12-29T18:06:57.817-05:00Waging War by George W. Beasley
No matter what version of the Bible you are reading, the following passage from Revelation remains constant in its message to followers of Jesus. There is a war, and it’s waged against us.
Revelation 12:15-18 (NLT)
The Woman and the Dragon
“Then the dragon tried to drown the woman with a flood of water that flowed from his mouth. But the earth helped her by George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-75075627893960537012015-09-18T20:46:00.001-04:002021-12-29T18:11:52.945-05:00Blind SilenceFriday, September 18, 2015
Blind Silence
by George W. Beasley
Silence is deaf in the mist of great storms.
All you can hear is the rumble of thunder.
The voices scream death.
Your will to live is disappearing.
Where am I?
Who can hear me?
It’s dark in the silence.
Invisible, when so many are looking.
All I can see is darkness.
They see, but they won’t help me.
Where am I?
Who can George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-38689449778433465562015-01-27T20:17:00.002-05:002021-12-29T18:15:26.477-05:00The Shooter by George W. Beasley
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
The Shooter by George W. Beasley
Why did he pull the trigger that day,
Leaving me this way?
I’m still so sad after all these years.
So many tears, so many years.
I often wonder which way did he die?
From the front or from the side?
The voices were loud I know.
Why?
Was it Mother or me?
Brothers and sisters have suffered so much.
The pain goes deep, and the George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-31791847830949374102014-07-23T20:51:00.003-04:002021-12-29T18:20:56.007-05:00CredibleWednesday, July 23, 2014
Credible
Credible I am not.
I mean, what is credibility?
Does it make me great?
Does it make me better than the poor?
Credible I am not.
Poor I am.
No better than a stray dog.
No better than a cat with no home.
It doesn't make me cry.
It doesn't even make me sad.
I mean, I have it all.
Credible I am not.
Some say, “But you’re a child of the King.”
And I agree.
I would George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-5600857345233846402008-11-02T08:57:00.015-05:002022-07-31T10:20:30.916-04:00Where My Brother Once StoodSunday, November 2, 2008
Where My Brother Once Stood
By George Beasley
2 Samuel 18:30 (ESV): “And the king said, ‘Turn aside and stand here.’ So he turned aside and stood still.”
I write this story in memory of my brother, Chris, who died at the young age of thirty-seven. It’s been almost three years since he passed away. He ran as far as he could and as long as he could. His pain and sufferingGeorge Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-596655425427078522008-04-22T20:40:00.006-04:002022-02-27T15:07:17.049-05:00And On The Seventh Day, It Ended! Part 2
Philippians 4: 4-5 (MSG) Celebrate God all day, every day. I mean, revel in him! Make it as clear as you can to all you meet that you're on their side, working with them and not against them. Help them see that the Master is about to arrive. He could show up any minute!
The question was, “What would I do if I had thirty days to live?” As discussed in part one, we operate on a thirty-dayGeorge Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-63624121635533555522008-04-02T21:15:00.004-04:002008-04-02T21:31:01.951-04:00And On The Seventh Day, It Ended! Part IAnd On The Seventh Day, It Ended!Psalm 39. 4-5 4 “Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered—how fleeting my life is. 5 You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand. My entire lifetime is just a moment to you; at best, each of us is but a breath.”The question was asked, “If you had thirty days to live, how would you live out George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255192521857946283.post-55233923139412172472008-03-24T20:59:00.005-04:002008-03-25T06:50:03.472-04:00Random Acts1 Corinthians 13 12 We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us! 13 But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust George Beasleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14498558036495305730noreply@blogger.com0