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God Takes Care of Fools · 5 May 2018


There is a saying that says God takes care of fools. I am an obvious example of that saying’s truth.


The actual quote (or misquote according to some) is attributed to Otto von Bismarck and says: “God has a special providence for fools, drunkards, and the United States of America.” Well, I am not a drunkard nor am I a country, but God certainly has a special providence for me. Therefore, I must be a fool.


I have come to these two conclusions (that I am a fool and that God has a special providence for me) based on my own follies and God’s protection from myself. My latest proof of these conclusions happened just the other day.


I drive an old truck. It is a great truck. A little loud, but it works. And I have put some of my own blood sweat and tears into it to keep it running. You might even have read about some of my episodes of working on said truck. At any rate, there are some quirks that I have just not dealt with. At least not yet. The chief of these quirks is that it has a part that works like a broken clock. It is right twice a day. Or in the case of my truck, it is right twice a tank of gas.


The part in question is, of course, my gas gauge. It reads full when the tank is full. Then, after a few miles it reads empty. (I have had the misfortune to be able to know that it is actually correct on empty too.) At any rate, I usually keep good track of how many miles I drive so that I can know when to fill up the tank. After all, if I just filled up when the gauge read empty, I would be at the gas station every other day. So naturally, I keep track. Mostly.


The way I keep track of when to fill up the tank is actually with a little notebook that I keep in the glove box. I write down the date, the miles, and the gallons each time I fill up. Ostensibly, it is to keep track of my miles driven as well as my miles per gallon. After all, I know if my fuel consumption per mile goes down, I am either in four-wheel drive or I need to work on my engine. I also keep track of the data because it is something my dad used to do. He did it, so I do it. And have done so since I have had my own vehicles.


Even though I may have dubious reasons for keeping track of the miles I drive in that old truck, I do need to keep track for the practical reason. I do not want to run out of gas. Not again. (At least I have a cell phone now.)


But back to the story.


Normally, I fill up the tank every two weeks. Or about every two-hundred and fifty miles. That leaves me with plenty of gas in reserve. About three gallons. Well, the other day, I knew I needed to fill up the tank because I was on my second week of driving. But I also knew that I had driven some extra miles. Little did I realize how many more.


I was driving to work after putting on some of those extra miles the day before. I knew I had to fill up, but figured it could wait until after work. (Actually, I forgot to check my notebook that morning even though I knew I needed to.) I was on the last hill up to the school when I felt something odd. (This is where I knew that God really does take care of fools.) The odd sensation was that I gave it gas and the engine hesitated. Just a bit. This happened twice up that long hill. I thought it odd the first time, but the second time (when starting from a stop), I realized that I had felt the hesitation before. Then I realized. I was running out of gas.


If you have never run out of gas before, it is an experience I would not recommend. Unless, of course, you like to blog about your own foibles and follies. At any rate, I did not want to run out of gas again. I figured that I could get to work, but I would not be able to start my truck when I got in it to go home. So I turned around.


At the very least, I figured that if I ran out of gas on the way down that steep hill, I could coast into the gas station I knew was at the bottom. Thankfully, I did not need to do so. I got there and filled up. Over sixteen gallons in a sixteen gallon tank (and nearly 350 miles). I knew I had dodged a bullet. Rather, I knew God was watching over me. Watching over the number one fool. (Or at least one of the top ten.) So I thanked Him.


Life may indeed be a highway, but I am glad I am not stuck on the side of it waiting for somebody to bring me some gas. And whether Otto von Bismarck said it or not, I am certainly glad that God takes care of fools like me.

© 2018 Michael T. Miyoshi

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Your Muse Called · 28 April 2018


I saw this funny tweet on Twitter (Yes, I changed some of the punctuation. But the thought is the same.):


“Your muse called and she threatened to quit if you don’t start writing. Right now!”


I was amused. (No pun intended.) I was amused because I was already in part of my morning routine. Which includes a quick jaunt to Facebook (on that particular day, to post a link to my blog for a preview for those following my page) and then a looksee at Twitter to see if there are any #SixWordStory prompts. Which there usually are. Those six word story prompts are fun. They get me going. (Actually, they are just part of my daily routine. I do not always post something, but I can usually get six words or less out there.) Then, I usually scroll down a little to see if there is anything interesting on my feed. That was when I saw the bit about my muse.


There was another reason I was amused. I had just posted the preview for my blog, and my blog just happened to have a picture of a muse. Not only that, my blog post was a short poem about poetry. About how Poetry does not get jealous about Prose. And since I was writing to Poetry as if it was a person, it was fitting that I find a picture of a muse.


Anyway. To make a short story a little longer, I need to elaborate.



Erato from Monte Calvo
by ChrisO
Licensed under
CC BY-SA 3.0


Erato is the muse of love poetry. Which is fitting for the poem I wrote because it is a poem about one of my writing loves. Yes. I love to write. Yes. I love to write prose. But I also love to write poetry. Or at least I love to write words that rhyme and might pass as poetry. Maybe. At any rate, I thought it apropos to put the picture of the statue of Erato on my blog post since I had written a poem to Poetry.


But back to the Twitter post.


It would be funny to actually get a call from a muse. Except that my muse thinks I am crazy to want to write. She thinks that it is odd that I get up early in the morning to write before I go to work. She thinks that I ought to stay in bed until the last possible moment before I need to get up. (Which is what most people think.)


Maybe she is right. Maybe I am a bit crazy. After all, no muse calls to me. (At least not the classical Greek ones.) I am just trying to use my gifts in appropriate ways. I am just trying to glorify God with my words. (Whether or not anybody reads them.)


Sometimes it is quite amusing what people post on Twitter and other social media. Especially when what they tell me is appropriate and timely for my life. Like the post about my muse calling. (But if mine is calling, she is probably calling me a liar.)

© 2018 Michael T. Miyoshi

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Poetry o Poetry · 21 April 2018


Erato from Monte Calvo
by ChrisO
Licensed under
CC BY-SA 3.0


Poetry o Poetry you have come back to me
Or else it is I who have come back to thee
I suppose in the end that it matters not
Even if I am coming because with Prose I have fought
When it comes right down to it I just like to rhyme
For the rhythm of writing is just about time
After all, writing flows when it has some smooth meter
Especially when it is that iambic pentameter

Poetry o Poetry I have come back to you
I would not say it was from your coop that I flew
I just put you aside to pursue that muse Prose
I still love you both in truth I suppose
Still, there are times, when I write, when I rhyme
And it seems that the two are exclusive in time
I write every day and I rhyme when I feel
Or when the thoughts of the day all do congeal

Poetry o Poetry how faithfully you wait
I can come back to you without setting a date
Though the words do not always just seem to flow
There is a way about you that I never did know
And when words and ideas fail me at ten
I know that I can come back to you again
Poetry o Poetry I have come back to thee
I am just glad that you have never left me

© 2018 Michael T. Miyoshi

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