tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33171555910327521562024-03-13T19:22:12.369-04:00A Moment In TimeA combination of musings, photographs, and questions all which come to me at different moments in time. I welcome your comments. In fact, comments and feedback are reinforcing. I don't even know if folks read this much! So ... let me knowUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger411125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-30360104651701585322017-11-02T09:58:00.001-04:002017-11-02T11:35:13.334-04:00Saints Touching the Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLc9FpID069Aid62XT9GQOKc8B74Rao1yalCb1HtkNHoXwT1m97IDpBRuk0qgeuz-Gp1OEITkpZYzaKwonRnGfHE5lGt_QN6Y-0p6ZrDT8wE6k3BtK5Kn4gK0N_4EEgI0HBECrE8m4Ks/s1600/IMG-3020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1205" data-original-width="1600" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLc9FpID069Aid62XT9GQOKc8B74Rao1yalCb1HtkNHoXwT1m97IDpBRuk0qgeuz-Gp1OEITkpZYzaKwonRnGfHE5lGt_QN6Y-0p6ZrDT8wE6k3BtK5Kn4gK0N_4EEgI0HBECrE8m4Ks/s320/IMG-3020.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
As I got ready to go for my morning walk today, I grabbed a “baseball”
hat to wear under my jacket hood. I
opened the secret door (which doubles as a bookcase) and there was this blue
hat. It wasn’t the one that I was
expecting, but it was the one that I needed.
This was dad’s. He was a Cal fan
even though he didn’t attend there … but mom did while he was in the Army
during WWII. Doug went for a year before
heading to PLU and I attended for a year while still in High School (kind of
the same as AP classes these days). I
grew up going to Cal games (including those with Stanford, the great
rivalry). We would park and walk (and
walk and walk) to get to the stadium. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The reality is … when I put the hat on, I felt a sense of
calm, love, warmth and protection. It was just a hat, wasn’t it? No it was a connection to a saint, my
dad. A man who said little … who would alert
me when things needed gentleness … who would get in his car and drive miles to
be with one of us when we needed care.
When I moved to NY he came and helped hang wall paper (actually he and mom did all the work) in my dining
room. When he was almost finished, he
announced that this would be the last time he would paint or wallpaper for one
of his kids (bad news since I was the youngest!). When I
got my first cell phone over a decade ago, I would often call on my way home
from work …. As I pulled in the driveway I would say “well dad, I have to go
now, just pulling in the driveway.” One day he said “I know why you call on
your way home … “ He knew that was a
time limit. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
We all need saints. They
are all around us … </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stay connected to them ...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks Dad. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjT4VUtOejs5tKPJ-C5LwxqsFy7VXVupQ5iDwFAxGCXR5spjVVKVUX-ujmzLmXcCVI77b01TU9wOqhkNlkL7omL72reIfg81A-NhJGgSM7YyMEHpdek6BPaGX6_PfFQ5H1iEViHBD2ugI/s1600/dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="837" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjT4VUtOejs5tKPJ-C5LwxqsFy7VXVupQ5iDwFAxGCXR5spjVVKVUX-ujmzLmXcCVI77b01TU9wOqhkNlkL7omL72reIfg81A-NhJGgSM7YyMEHpdek6BPaGX6_PfFQ5H1iEViHBD2ugI/s320/dad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-49491882789902585782017-11-01T20:29:00.000-04:002017-11-02T07:37:39.031-04:00Time for some exploration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzs-AZ0lD0rQy4fAeqq2yZtgf1fLpdoGb7qUIfygHqy_MngQvinV8qgJiJkpoSwlC4JxBEM5spwsrQLIMQ9QstKBZuMlMexpN3aDszUsQOQRH0QnIHMG6jzWdgKVuy0ibdEtQjjMl4xuA/s1600/IMG_0080+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzs-AZ0lD0rQy4fAeqq2yZtgf1fLpdoGb7qUIfygHqy_MngQvinV8qgJiJkpoSwlC4JxBEM5spwsrQLIMQ9QstKBZuMlMexpN3aDszUsQOQRH0QnIHMG6jzWdgKVuy0ibdEtQjjMl4xuA/s320/IMG_0080+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Five plus years since the last post. So much has happened over these years and maybe it is time to take a look ... but I am not sure which direction. In front of me ... behind me ... where I am now ... perhaps a little of each is needed. Come with me on the journey ... Ask a question or two if you are curious and we will see where we end up ... So ... welcome back (to me ... and maybe to you too!)<br />
<br />
p.s. location: Letchworth State Park Spring 2017Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-67002266940719852682011-07-02T10:18:00.000-04:002011-07-02T10:18:56.785-04:00RecalculatingTime to recalculate! Yes, that obnoxious voice in my head keeps saying it to me. That means I must be on the wrong path. <br />
So it is relatively early on a Saturday morning of a three day weekend .. that I am going to extend to include lots of hours this week. <br />
Recalculating ... When does the recalculating lady say those words in your ear!<br />
<br />
Picture to follow!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-65562761015178674822011-05-11T22:02:00.000-04:002011-05-13T16:25:15.828-04:00It is really Just Joey?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOSDXD8q7adFTMqzYhH4mjwhRsvElTa-F1S0ojJcBDOO3zivVELa92PMkmUhhAtzaXdDC6lFMcadJTEVAK0eEFNGur6JZU93B98J0FruAqiuhpRnC8lvv1y06jIerctQ38TnUvfvmwt4/s1600/MomsRose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOSDXD8q7adFTMqzYhH4mjwhRsvElTa-F1S0ojJcBDOO3zivVELa92PMkmUhhAtzaXdDC6lFMcadJTEVAK0eEFNGur6JZU93B98J0FruAqiuhpRnC8lvv1y06jIerctQ38TnUvfvmwt4/s320/MomsRose.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Names can be deceiving! If I recall ... the name of this rose is "Just Joey". I think it is one of my mom's favorite. Maybe it is because it is fun to say Just Joey ... or maybe because it is so beautiful. When on the garden tour, I heard her say ... "Look, its a Just Joey."<br />
<br />
Nothing in God's world is "just .... anything" <br />
<br />
This rose is beautiful ...<br />
As is God's creation.<br />
<br />
We are called to care for it ...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-88965873635550682372011-05-04T22:57:00.000-04:002011-05-04T22:57:56.030-04:00God Inspired Patterns<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdil5N02iiRBdGVgEYqksu0H7N4HnYXhUhl66z4KXinZEB2qF-14o-t81pqnuze7wwjSM8kdxSrQCsA5hJrzmsKsFHNXJJL20Uj5d7dccKCRsvmUx6auQ25FDSPz_A_oIzDgNVLJHfVKA/s1600/Indoor+Labyrinth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdil5N02iiRBdGVgEYqksu0H7N4HnYXhUhl66z4KXinZEB2qF-14o-t81pqnuze7wwjSM8kdxSrQCsA5hJrzmsKsFHNXJJL20Uj5d7dccKCRsvmUx6auQ25FDSPz_A_oIzDgNVLJHfVKA/s320/Indoor+Labyrinth.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>A while ago I learned about labyrinths. There is one in Holden Village ... marked with stones and reinforced by the walking of humans. In winter it is maintained ... by snowshoes, by boots, by seekers. The walls grow higher as the snow continues to fall. <br />
<br />
And yet ... one can find forgiveness, reconciliation, renewal and hope walking a labyrinth in the middle of a bustling city ... in the interior of a nave. There for folks to walk and meditate. To find cleansing in the midst of vaulted ceilings, the sun colored reflections through the windows depicting God's glory, the precision of arches, the seekers kneeling forward praying what only they know. <br />
<br />
Labyrinths around the world, on walls of caves, in our hearts and our minds. In Chartres, France, the hills of Contra Costa, Eagles Point, SF, and here at Grace Cathedral in SF.<br />
<br />
So fitting ... a labyrinth ... full of the grace of God ... in Grace Cathedral. <br />
<br />
Slow day ... walk ... <br />
<br />
Lo I am with you always, says the Lord.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-37793487883075350462011-05-01T23:29:00.009-04:002011-05-02T09:01:21.940-04:00Patterns of God<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeZGYwIZ0oqFX4td-thZhua96qxN3F1r0pgWLxnHpmvWeEyki-9vCoheLLG_vosqkAyqaTf05ltuhWEneuLEEJogymRGdeGgZwTAkMNlKmR4RDjtYVPP7Ez0fDj2corIWcmdYfZlqr0Q/s1600/Succulent+Pattern.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601956070188024050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeZGYwIZ0oqFX4td-thZhua96qxN3F1r0pgWLxnHpmvWeEyki-9vCoheLLG_vosqkAyqaTf05ltuhWEneuLEEJogymRGdeGgZwTAkMNlKmR4RDjtYVPP7Ez0fDj2corIWcmdYfZlqr0Q/s400/Succulent+Pattern.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; width: 400px;" /></a>I went on a garden tour in Oakland today with my mom and sister-in-law. I was amazed at the number of succulents in the many gardens. I have really never been of fan of them ... but the more and more I see them I am fascinated by their patterns and the intricacies. As I opened this on the computer and did a bit of a crop I was even more fascinated by the details and what appears to be little "spikes" at the outer edges of each leaf. <br />
<div></div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqfbwj0EqgFk-yxs53cBLDML1n77w6kJEp_2IHUtyjIcioS7o980kwERyUpFLVZDlo7hE4PmsGcL2BtzJyTtBLBVHcOSiwjOFos3Ks-87HNsetljoxh1zH4vl-BaNybwSPSCb5gG04c-8/s1600/Succulent+Daub.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601957514179437682" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqfbwj0EqgFk-yxs53cBLDML1n77w6kJEp_2IHUtyjIcioS7o980kwERyUpFLVZDlo7hE4PmsGcL2BtzJyTtBLBVHcOSiwjOFos3Ks-87HNsetljoxh1zH4vl-BaNybwSPSCb5gG04c-8/s400/Succulent+Daub.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 210px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 300px;" /></a></div><div>Patterns and repetitions were again to be found in this multi-color plant. The newest "leaves" in the center were lightly colored with yellow and green while the older had a tint of pink. Another creation of God whose imagination is beyond our imagination.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeZGYwIZ0oqFX4td-thZhua96qxN3F1r0pgWLxnHpmvWeEyki-9vCoheLLG_vosqkAyqaTf05ltuhWEneuLEEJogymRGdeGgZwTAkMNlKmR4RDjtYVPP7Ez0fDj2corIWcmdYfZlqr0Q/s1600/Succulent+Pattern.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601958883649292626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLS4BpiOvO5JHipprs8UxMjNSbdpS3K6UkEQFYJwx4PGc-kK7Ui8isARgZWCcoLWwOqcBcwp853WyA4nHiqUAr8ngJmcVM6CXsVBg0qU-ExvvtaZN9HImfRaqPeV-AHNLpWHw4RJayzkU/s320/Succulent+Green+and+Red.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 224px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></div><div>Still later in the day I came across this one. It seemed like a Christmas cactus (it is not) yet the red and green were so vibrant. and consistent. To me this was a happy succulent. Not sure why I think this when I see it ... but it brings a smile to my heart. God again has created patterns, and uses a wonderful palette of colors! What do you think?</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZJI9dbRCD__VwyRIfZcSeFbXjOiazJGXyCFlBvHn5VZg3IDHphaXI3NsOL2IQVzhcB07_oUIOEabmoppEoR-xU2Ht0f3rVKceRapuNctxN0W3HepFL97wlVFZE2qO2r51PvPHZ_6CPSc/s1600/Succulent+Twirll.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601959965337930946" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZJI9dbRCD__VwyRIfZcSeFbXjOiazJGXyCFlBvHn5VZg3IDHphaXI3NsOL2IQVzhcB07_oUIOEabmoppEoR-xU2Ht0f3rVKceRapuNctxN0W3HepFL97wlVFZE2qO2r51PvPHZ_6CPSc/s320/Succulent+Twirll.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 192px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a></div><div>Finally this surprise was waiting for us in the front yard of one of the homes. Rather than the circular development of the succulents shown above, the leaves seem to be opening and growing in a twirling pattern. Just as I thought I understood the pattern and was looking for shifts in the color palette, I was again surprised by God.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeZGYwIZ0oqFX4td-thZhua96qxN3F1r0pgWLxnHpmvWeEyki-9vCoheLLG_vosqkAyqaTf05ltuhWEneuLEEJogymRGdeGgZwTAkMNlKmR4RDjtYVPP7Ez0fDj2corIWcmdYfZlqr0Q/s1600/Succulent+Pattern.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeZGYwIZ0oqFX4td-thZhua96qxN3F1r0pgWLxnHpmvWeEyki-9vCoheLLG_vosqkAyqaTf05ltuhWEneuLEEJogymRGdeGgZwTAkMNlKmR4RDjtYVPP7Ez0fDj2corIWcmdYfZlqr0Q/s1600/Succulent+Pattern.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeZGYwIZ0oqFX4td-thZhua96qxN3F1r0pgWLxnHpmvWeEyki-9vCoheLLG_vosqkAyqaTf05ltuhWEneuLEEJogymRGdeGgZwTAkMNlKmR4RDjtYVPP7Ez0fDj2corIWcmdYfZlqr0Q/s1600/Succulent+Pattern.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Take a look around ... find the surprising patterns of</div><div style="text-align: center;">God's delightful creation. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Let's now do our part to take care of it!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><br />
</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeZGYwIZ0oqFX4td-thZhua96qxN3F1r0pgWLxnHpmvWeEyki-9vCoheLLG_vosqkAyqaTf05ltuhWEneuLEEJogymRGdeGgZwTAkMNlKmR4RDjtYVPP7Ez0fDj2corIWcmdYfZlqr0Q/s1600/Succulent+Pattern.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeZGYwIZ0oqFX4td-thZhua96qxN3F1r0pgWLxnHpmvWeEyki-9vCoheLLG_vosqkAyqaTf05ltuhWEneuLEEJogymRGdeGgZwTAkMNlKmR4RDjtYVPP7Ez0fDj2corIWcmdYfZlqr0Q/s1600/Succulent+Pattern.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeZGYwIZ0oqFX4td-thZhua96qxN3F1r0pgWLxnHpmvWeEyki-9vCoheLLG_vosqkAyqaTf05ltuhWEneuLEEJogymRGdeGgZwTAkMNlKmR4RDjtYVPP7Ez0fDj2corIWcmdYfZlqr0Q/s1600/Succulent+Pattern.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-74406373179902431132011-05-01T10:05:00.005-04:002011-05-01T10:26:12.717-04:00<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKN_EQQKvmS5XxhZCcnOgyI1vebD8z_0rzjyE5jQbSpXauS67MLqDdmDiJ-K6i8f_aOhCzZZQrvzE_WM0sJxX1sJ0yoq-JgTjuhZ_hi9-GhUTTkk7Zb_GZvrPc2QcBvIksHYA-q-E5ezA/s1600/Painted+Lady.jpg"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601749822871124226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKN_EQQKvmS5XxhZCcnOgyI1vebD8z_0rzjyE5jQbSpXauS67MLqDdmDiJ-K6i8f_aOhCzZZQrvzE_WM0sJxX1sJ0yoq-JgTjuhZ_hi9-GhUTTkk7Zb_GZvrPc2QcBvIksHYA-q-E5ezA/s400/Painted+Lady.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"> Colors abound!</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Spring has finally arrived.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">It has felt like such a long long winter this year. So much snow. It started early and ended early actually, but this year was a year of many storms on the east coast. I don't know what we would have done had they all com through Rochester. As quickly as the snow started ... it stopped. But then suddenly the rains came and came and came. A new record for the month of April ...<br /><br />The snow blower has been released of the gas and now it is time to ready the lawn mower. Freshen it with a new spark plub, oil and very expensive gas! The chives that arrive in the middle of the lawn will be enjoyed with potatoes next week. A lone tulip that found its way into the lawn on the otherside of the driveway has opened. Next it will be dang dandelions. The cost of going pesticide free.<br /><br />Roses have yet to bloom in New York ... but they are at their glory in California. I am in awe of the patterns, the colors, the intricacies of nature. Today there shall be more.</span> </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-36988450485294518722011-04-22T21:11:00.009-04:002011-05-01T10:05:03.577-04:00Look at Your Heart<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3KYAhuCgktoSOL0WBFD_s45XzT_ry0YWYqXYCiZVcGbGS1G8QrJvx4Aw6m95LuJXntx4HxRBBylc9DxDzymhMLJYUJSbfT3sjT0OzTYKIX6jyNNHbZWPdhZ5wbP8cRvAHIdXOttxMOtg/s1600/ColoredPencil.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598957899380034338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3KYAhuCgktoSOL0WBFD_s45XzT_ry0YWYqXYCiZVcGbGS1G8QrJvx4Aw6m95LuJXntx4HxRBBylc9DxDzymhMLJYUJSbfT3sjT0OzTYKIX6jyNNHbZWPdhZ5wbP8cRvAHIdXOttxMOtg/s200/ColoredPencil.jpg" /></a><br />It was a chilly Friday afternoon and the weather was somewhere between winter and spring. We gathered in the backyard, bundled in our jackets, long pants and sneakers. It was Good Friday an in our journey to the cross it was time to walk the stations and look into our hearts.<br /><br />When I was a child growing up, it seemed as though church lasted all afternoon on Good Friday. I must admit that I don’t remember much of it, other than where we would sit, the beautiful expanse of the sanctuary, lots of readings and songs, and lots of sitting. But on this Good Friday it would be something different. Stations of the Cross around the yard. Eric found a simple service for children on line (www.cptryon.org), made some modifications, and printed a copy that we shared. With the cross that Faye had decorated in Sunday School we began our journey.<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOS9719ruKYV3lhqf4lpRV8M8E9FAArc4k71BNOKW90WI_pTg32XFwKI99_sOyC1hSNXLBrD_LxTcUHFuSFLTUG3b_l8ecd5PnuQWTkoAWgpIHxoUhmRxaxQgVSFZ-oC6KRXZFmfEIArA/s1600/ColoredPencil.jpg"></a></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXs-jFOxQH8UH8pENS17jeVMLQmJfsi2BAe4GDzShlI5pH0bvmB6HalFH-Zz4d53xiBtsUdFMIhq885NcjDinvdhNuEtsfzqOrl0gVdcdwu-aC_U6C72P_Rl9OHkqH7_W2m6Qs6e-GjNc/s1600/Posterization.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 154px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598757674898547314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXs-jFOxQH8UH8pENS17jeVMLQmJfsi2BAe4GDzShlI5pH0bvmB6HalFH-Zz4d53xiBtsUdFMIhq885NcjDinvdhNuEtsfzqOrl0gVdcdwu-aC_U6C72P_Rl9OHkqH7_W2m6Qs6e-GjNc/s200/Posterization.jpg" /></a>From station to station, 14 of them, the girls would rotate, Faye had the odd numbers, Meghan the even. Our job as adults was to read the reflections. Abbey, a friend of the girls, came along with us and she listened and we explained the historical piece of the journey to give it context in her Jewish faith. The cross went from place to place being set in trees, on tables, in the milk box, on a basketball post, the back of a car, and finally coming to rest deep inside the canopy of an evergreen.<br /><br />As we moved to the front yard a couple was passing by and noticed us. You could see them chatting. The man took off his hat, looked at us, and put it over his heart. One never knows when one is a witness to another.<br /><br />At the end, Sue asked the girls if they had any questions. One asked why didn't say anything about Easter. Ah, we responded, this is part of a very important three days of Easter: from dusk on Thursday through dusk on Sunday. Faye reminded us that Thursday was about the Last Supper and that was when Jesus washed the feet of the disciples and we were given the commandment to love and serve one another. How at church Pastor serves everyone first and then his served last. And that Friday was about the death of Christ. A time that we are humbled by Christ's great sacrifice for us and the world.<br /><br /><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXAPuWh1rlMLs49QuRiU25BhNPmfl7LOzOhsyoyUW3S1iworFgoD3vTO5_hB5asZWXJKT1FT0Gi_xf_Rh_VizjYhKVufZHRYeLghYRWrknpvhyphenhyphenkJW2jJ2XyhP-SSQhqJpyTn-G69KPFM/s1600/all.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 141px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598760056093879938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXAPuWh1rlMLs49QuRiU25BhNPmfl7LOzOhsyoyUW3S1iworFgoD3vTO5_hB5asZWXJKT1FT0Gi_xf_Rh_VizjYhKVufZHRYeLghYRWrknpvhyphenhyphenkJW2jJ2XyhP-SSQhqJpyTn-G69KPFM/s200/all.jpg" /></a>Later that evening I went on my way after a plate of potato latkes with Abbey’s parents. I worshipped and listen to the story again ... from the old testament to the Gospel of John. I sang the song "Were you There" through silent tears of memories, sadness, joy, and hope. I placed a stone at the foot of the cross, laid my sins and am grateful for continued forgivness.<br /><br />And now today we wait. We wait in anticipation that Jesus will rise from the dead. Today is the vigil.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-83888936300253707812011-04-20T12:10:00.003-04:002011-04-20T12:12:15.135-04:00Coming BackI think it is time to return to my blog. Its noon on a cold wet spring day. <div>This is something I need to do ... might you come back and read my musings again?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-26874464577728912092010-07-16T22:04:00.000-04:002010-07-16T22:05:51.678-04:00Power<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jkA3e88I-zVqs0pahmMF9ZelLLOdU6dcOwot91Qp-EPoKlcVAXTxzubo-YJhdlrn0l4ioopO7TJVXrjAcJVQ94-ff-bcPoelA33Cjr-WvG4ouF5pQo5q63w-qhCPcAGPqpZZh0CDwZo/s1600/AmericanFalls.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3jkA3e88I-zVqs0pahmMF9ZelLLOdU6dcOwot91Qp-EPoKlcVAXTxzubo-YJhdlrn0l4ioopO7TJVXrjAcJVQ94-ff-bcPoelA33Cjr-WvG4ouF5pQo5q63w-qhCPcAGPqpZZh0CDwZo/s400/AmericanFalls.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494690590577678354" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-14866845325685647772010-06-26T23:24:00.003-04:002010-06-26T23:36:33.280-04:00Hold Tight<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAssEKONmNOER8uZlbf8J4Bu0X6bHrI7ZS9uvmD_D3Px_FnnSKji0iE7T-MaogWRpzVi0q_BDQmxcRD7Ej9QRsAiTGCfKpUIQ_WDTwFu1aezUGfZlyyoBlI9m8c5NB_c0x6Wr8_cFegkc/s1600/PapaFinger.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAssEKONmNOER8uZlbf8J4Bu0X6bHrI7ZS9uvmD_D3Px_FnnSKji0iE7T-MaogWRpzVi0q_BDQmxcRD7Ej9QRsAiTGCfKpUIQ_WDTwFu1aezUGfZlyyoBlI9m8c5NB_c0x6Wr8_cFegkc/s400/PapaFinger.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487289597486936770" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Every life is precious.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This finger holds my history</div><div style="text-align: center;">The beating of my heart</div><div style="text-align: center;">The years of my life </div><div style="text-align: center;">The finger extends to assure the future</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Hold on dear child</div><div style="text-align: center;">To the history</div><div style="text-align: center;">The love</div><div style="text-align: center;">The years</div><div style="text-align: center;">The knowledge</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In your baptism </div><div style="text-align: center;">The waters that flow</div><div style="text-align: center;">The hands that hold</div><div style="text-align: center;">The oil that anoints</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We the family </div><div style="text-align: center;">Commit to love you</div><div style="text-align: center;">To bring you to the table</div><div style="text-align: center;">To teach you the stories</div><div style="text-align: center;">To sing you the songs</div><div style="text-align: center;">To shower you with God's love</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is your day, dear Eloise</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-50100859113445574332010-05-29T01:21:00.000-04:002010-05-29T01:22:11.257-04:00BELIEVE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxNN-6oJz9snXDiQ6PxJIuOOAJyTimjVqMvKlB4xfTekPkh9QLs56NyAfSDDg8Z6ta5KoVfrcwNy9CM_zapyPVjfnZbgT1VKv9aCMPIbxTQmTD7DoTa14F1tabRbNmQRhoVitLaXbWRNA/s1600/Believe.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxNN-6oJz9snXDiQ6PxJIuOOAJyTimjVqMvKlB4xfTekPkh9QLs56NyAfSDDg8Z6ta5KoVfrcwNy9CM_zapyPVjfnZbgT1VKv9aCMPIbxTQmTD7DoTa14F1tabRbNmQRhoVitLaXbWRNA/s400/Believe.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476557992771634226" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-32162589115606804312010-05-25T06:52:00.003-04:002010-05-25T16:00:10.054-04:00Old Blue Eyes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WnyXIL-P8MatsOnvxlmiIXeYDzEbVMBHhad6U3W4GZQTw6-wCMdHvK7bGiAGUzhtq96EWINuL1UTeJ43VQsuQ7zddh_PJNveLypvkeJhm64vqTdc8IMbVc9kzfNsVOgZEEr50W-Ibkk/s1600/DadBlueEyese.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475159158113485314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WnyXIL-P8MatsOnvxlmiIXeYDzEbVMBHhad6U3W4GZQTw6-wCMdHvK7bGiAGUzhtq96EWINuL1UTeJ43VQsuQ7zddh_PJNveLypvkeJhm64vqTdc8IMbVc9kzfNsVOgZEEr50W-Ibkk/s400/DadBlueEyese.jpg" /></a><br />circa 1920 <div>"Carl has great big blue senstive eyes. He is sensitive. that expresses it best. His eyes are soft and his voice is soft. .... Carl smiles if a person just walks past him.</div><div><br /></div><div>"It is 9:30 now, and Arthur is holding one and Amy the other. They are both real patient with them. Arthur helps so much around the house and with them. Arthur is so good natured and he talks all the time, and he is so affectionate to Amy and the kids, and fusses over them all the time. Arthur says, 'This is the life, meaning twins! </div><div><br /></div><div>....</div><div><br /></div><div>"Carl moves his feet up and down [in the little bath tub on the kitchen table] and then he looks at Amy and smiles. He is so lovable!"</div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyc0rN1R8Y0_gV1X2sXnN6N4D_J_YoG7bALWIFFs67eVmGL8WGbJqCsStLpcJcBoi3gbKfctC1lGY5Lv9CdroEpOvtaNXeVG_7ybFsK4UgkyWadOz-sdEItSfyjmiVqzzvlLZ5zQoaT6w/s1600/BLowThose+Candles.jpg"></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="TEXT-DECORATION: none" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyc0rN1R8Y0_gV1X2sXnN6N4D_J_YoG7bALWIFFs67eVmGL8WGbJqCsStLpcJcBoi3gbKfctC1lGY5Lv9CdroEpOvtaNXeVG_7ybFsK4UgkyWadOz-sdEItSfyjmiVqzzvlLZ5zQoaT6w/s1600/BLowThose+Candles.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475160461433463202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyc0rN1R8Y0_gV1X2sXnN6N4D_J_YoG7bALWIFFs67eVmGL8WGbJqCsStLpcJcBoi3gbKfctC1lGY5Lv9CdroEpOvtaNXeVG_7ybFsK4UgkyWadOz-sdEItSfyjmiVqzzvlLZ5zQoaT6w/s400/BLowThose+Candles.jpg" /></a> <div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Happy 90th Birthday Dad!</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-84964832940382093652010-05-02T18:18:00.003-04:002010-05-02T18:23:58.762-04:00Happy Birthday to You!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRvD9P7JxvfL8HVpJrya-4JtA9gFnuXHy3oeZJqKDSxBX3qT8BXAZlj1PIny3qOobYxeucYtpZldmLVJB7N03E4yeFlmKTd8k_POAPpeYPwtl8M4Jw55qpRvvHr8swUr-e_HLN6eaP-A/s1600/after+a+shower+Colored+Pencil.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRvD9P7JxvfL8HVpJrya-4JtA9gFnuXHy3oeZJqKDSxBX3qT8BXAZlj1PIny3qOobYxeucYtpZldmLVJB7N03E4yeFlmKTd8k_POAPpeYPwtl8M4Jw55qpRvvHr8swUr-e_HLN6eaP-A/s400/after+a+shower+Colored+Pencil.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466801028386611346" /></a><br />To those out there today, for whom you celebrate your day of birth ... may it be a wonderful day! Today is my mom's birthday ... I was going to track down a picture of her from years gone by, instead I give you a garden of flowers! Enjoy them ... as their beauty is short lived.<div><br /></div><div>Tulips you see are like us ... planted carefully in one season ... blooming in another. Their beauty only lasts a short amount of time and during that time they bring such joy to folks. </div><div><br /></div><div>Each of us knows someone who is celebrating a birthday today ... check your contacts ... give them a call! see the beauty in them!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-30194056634676037062010-04-29T22:54:00.001-04:002010-04-29T22:57:06.610-04:00Tulip Bed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROXTBM-NER5_IenjSkj_7Axvq8KjULq7SvGSrIcVXwY4rzX85s5JN6Y2Pb5h7-qdfmuY74xIoBCTbnxSHIERF0s6yxhWoHFyvTnknGwADXRxzOhMZsTL03LcLFBayzLhKFM6Wka8bM0I/s1600/TulipBeds.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROXTBM-NER5_IenjSkj_7Axvq8KjULq7SvGSrIcVXwY4rzX85s5JN6Y2Pb5h7-qdfmuY74xIoBCTbnxSHIERF0s6yxhWoHFyvTnknGwADXRxzOhMZsTL03LcLFBayzLhKFM6Wka8bM0I/s400/TulipBeds.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465758819427315538" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">ahhh such a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;">delightful</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF00;">colorful</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC33CC;">bed</span>!</div><div style="text-align: center;">makes me smile just looking at it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-34641496839834642882010-04-26T20:22:00.003-04:002010-04-26T20:30:37.779-04:00Evening Reflection<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYlLIq4YGq8w3CnyWMiPN9UqzYZzvlB0iipOlsyMDtKPMxToXD9jBUozSY8CVic7on7HlPx0izCJWug021QZgUnXN05pCAm4oM_FB1k1fLgRqA9O0p72RDu2Dof2UFrGjsn6B7dvLt-U/s1600/accent+edgeSmall.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYlLIq4YGq8w3CnyWMiPN9UqzYZzvlB0iipOlsyMDtKPMxToXD9jBUozSY8CVic7on7HlPx0izCJWug021QZgUnXN05pCAm4oM_FB1k1fLgRqA9O0p72RDu2Dof2UFrGjsn6B7dvLt-U/s400/accent+edgeSmall.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464606399497807394" /></a><br />I often do my writing and reflecting in the morning. But now that spring is here I find myself drawn once again to the soft translucent colors of dusk. Its often the greens outside my living room window that call to me ... but tonight as I headed to the park near my house I found the reflecting pond (where soon there will be ducklings swimming around) .... then the discovered the yellows and oranges of the setting sun reflecting on the trunks and in the distance.<div><br /></div><div>So as spring moves into your neck of the woods ... take a stroll at dusk! </div><div>What do you see?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-89084168841969704192010-04-25T23:03:00.005-04:002010-04-25T23:22:45.741-04:00Goodbye in Zanesfield<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ptdU3oDhf3UNhrVczpD54iOt_FS-End2N_a10vRJ0uXzVAp8ttn7K-8ABIqPTIQ6f236-5SLWxXXqb-H1T-K6tWRZqUZBvwab2XMc-16U_PzbR6JXDJf4zIO7BRjBI1ObYrQBxNYmKw/s1600/RoseforPhil.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ptdU3oDhf3UNhrVczpD54iOt_FS-End2N_a10vRJ0uXzVAp8ttn7K-8ABIqPTIQ6f236-5SLWxXXqb-H1T-K6tWRZqUZBvwab2XMc-16U_PzbR6JXDJf4zIO7BRjBI1ObYrQBxNYmKw/s400/RoseforPhil.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464281321125770738" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">with this rose</div><div style="text-align: center;">i say good bye</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">with this rose</div><div style="text-align: center;">i say i love you</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">with this rose</div><div style="text-align: center;">i again cry for you</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">with this rose</div><div style="text-align: center;">i grieve</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">with this rose</div><div style="text-align: center;">i say goodbye</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">the white rose, traditionally stands for purity, innocence, spirituality and sympathy, as well as remembrance, honor and reverence</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-60756962490632181942010-04-25T07:17:00.005-04:002010-04-25T08:11:57.502-04:00The Answer<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">From Sunday April 25th Henri Nouwen Society.</span></b></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">"We spend a lot of time and energy raising questions. Is it worth it? It is always good to ask ourselves why we raise a question. Do we want to get useful information? Do we want to show that someone else is wrong? Do we want to conquer knowledge? Do we want to grow in wisdom? Do we want to find a way to sanctity?<br /><br />"When we ponder these questions before asking our questions, we may discover that we need less time and energy for our questions. Perhaps we already have the information. Perhaps we don't need to show that someone is wrong. For many questions we may learn that we already have the answers, at least if we listen carefully to our own hearts."</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I often wonder why certain things come across my plate (or email) when they do. This was in today's email. Came less than 72 hours after I "raised a question" ... which created the "storm". More food for thought. </span></b></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I do know this ... nothing is ever black and white ... </span></b></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-53649154303293356372010-04-22T21:30:00.005-04:002010-05-02T18:18:09.621-04:00Tears of the Heart<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinvQ1ESyWJ_uWK9hGVryuP50zWI2-o7sNNxA0dncDMBk6SVJ4WfQYCmM8-x12odXsRqNiHntsrQry1jgeemMisobGNElqwOQvHYsi2wDUFxxuc0_9NhlI2pa_yDgBaHVeRMbyR3JPOhA8/s1600/My+Heart+is+Bleeding.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinvQ1ESyWJ_uWK9hGVryuP50zWI2-o7sNNxA0dncDMBk6SVJ4WfQYCmM8-x12odXsRqNiHntsrQry1jgeemMisobGNElqwOQvHYsi2wDUFxxuc0_9NhlI2pa_yDgBaHVeRMbyR3JPOhA8/s400/My+Heart+is+Bleeding.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463139433232650386" /></a>So much progress seems to have been made. yet with one question it seems as thought everything is undone and the hurt returns. Sometimes I just don't get it. A question. That's all it was. A question, not an accusation. A wondering. <div><br /></div><div>The heart ... the relationship torn. Tears. Stinging words. It was just a question. An apology for asking the question offered ... yet not accepted. Tears of the heart. </div><div><br /></div><div>It wouldn't matter, if I didn't care.</div><div><br /></div><div>A random verse, sitting on my coffee table when I got home:</div><div><br /></div><div>"In the world you will get kicked around, but keep cheerful. I have overcome the world." John 16:33</div><div><br /></div><div>Ahhh ... if it were only so easy. </div><div>Sleep will heal the heart</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-9645228528770115602010-03-29T20:42:00.002-04:002010-03-29T20:45:49.485-04:00Markings: Vagmarken<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbH7AoiBRum6gi4eYgsJvHkNfFpxAOX13kLSdN809FWHiRghEW5Mz6UPSklvyjNyKmpus90OM_Cqt7JS5Tio_5v01m2HeCI6Cyc2FqB65-uYAy2aVnq4k0LeEQ6TWVteAlBWJLMv-BaJw/s1600/Cairn.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbH7AoiBRum6gi4eYgsJvHkNfFpxAOX13kLSdN809FWHiRghEW5Mz6UPSklvyjNyKmpus90OM_Cqt7JS5Tio_5v01m2HeCI6Cyc2FqB65-uYAy2aVnq4k0LeEQ6TWVteAlBWJLMv-BaJw/s400/Cairn.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454221174570309650" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">We never travel alone.</div><div style="text-align: center;">There have been others before</div><div style="text-align: center;">There will be others behind.</div><div style="text-align: center;">We travel it together.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">What do you leave as your mark?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-60503061884134592332010-03-22T20:14:00.004-04:002010-03-22T20:17:01.590-04:00The Opening<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc2Qu0cH3KqhNBb5a7F4ny_XlpcM-pvpXlgWTKMM_e06eWvbn1dlscm9_rKUyqhZjZk0wdoLPH32aaUOokD5hG2mHQ5yT0oChQfPJwpnfbajRNozCJyYyNvxu4uURl-Ud4too1qX0K7y8/s1600-h/The+Opening.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc2Qu0cH3KqhNBb5a7F4ny_XlpcM-pvpXlgWTKMM_e06eWvbn1dlscm9_rKUyqhZjZk0wdoLPH32aaUOokD5hG2mHQ5yT0oChQfPJwpnfbajRNozCJyYyNvxu4uURl-Ud4too1qX0K7y8/s400/The+Opening.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451616109380019634" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes it seems as though there is no way out, around, </div><div style="text-align: center;">through, over or under. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Maybe all we need to do ... is walk a few steps ... </div><div style="text-align: center;">and there it is ... the opening.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Time to take it ... </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-9706934329396008632010-03-18T20:42:00.002-04:002010-03-18T20:47:26.361-04:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQKr8QhNhWLOAWR8dGUp2vQMiBreBWYpf1LSB31abDhfVQhSgPPZi_ZjgaYMkYexbxRYdRAvuGUnszp4GddXwV8DhdElEaFbPCvxblVqRut2iY8poADF26pU-LS-3IEEqVXB6pCsxSpg/s1600-h/VistaSmall.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQKr8QhNhWLOAWR8dGUp2vQMiBreBWYpf1LSB31abDhfVQhSgPPZi_ZjgaYMkYexbxRYdRAvuGUnszp4GddXwV8DhdElEaFbPCvxblVqRut2iY8poADF26pU-LS-3IEEqVXB6pCsxSpg/s400/VistaSmall.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450139914399243858" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJwGVunnY3OGaQCPNmz5w_iD5muDVfu-4u_ZXPDXSfCTSMTDQfgdgQFSDRp7f0lHdeJTHziwPZdAEcSgNFEWymAG2ENrDSapwQ9uwscsixcbpQIiuhHFEu5YihRc6BWc1UP3ARRZgi4as/s1600-h/ShoppingKidsSmall.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJwGVunnY3OGaQCPNmz5w_iD5muDVfu-4u_ZXPDXSfCTSMTDQfgdgQFSDRp7f0lHdeJTHziwPZdAEcSgNFEWymAG2ENrDSapwQ9uwscsixcbpQIiuhHFEu5YihRc6BWc1UP3ARRZgi4as/s400/ShoppingKidsSmall.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450139054195982354" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-47656510890912393052010-03-16T11:05:00.004-04:002010-03-16T11:15:32.724-04:00Rock of Ages<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSeQg-yGESR0-1St7d5hZUWhyv2msZVEH0AqZV7689eZ6U4KUC_FMyS9aHotrLXxRtJ2AgyaSiV_kbNxZoeKPktQF5laXK-lmAj0FEokbHcys3IkOf2k0nANBmIButVXqXxy1HmM2s5E/s1600-h/rocksJ.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSeQg-yGESR0-1St7d5hZUWhyv2msZVEH0AqZV7689eZ6U4KUC_FMyS9aHotrLXxRtJ2AgyaSiV_kbNxZoeKPktQF5laXK-lmAj0FEokbHcys3IkOf2k0nANBmIButVXqXxy1HmM2s5E/s400/rocksJ.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449249970930039138" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-46154872624188108392010-03-11T21:50:00.002-05:002010-03-11T21:55:13.211-05:00Transitioning<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQJVjgM0KPgWdyRMo96nrCjEELg1Sydsym3pACm6Xt0vzsRlUWHD1CWIk-NA65-tIqWwoAdd2FAJiBeCs92aLi1IPO4wytq8_v9ktEYcD4NkyuSfwTZvQV51-MvYOXgjRnjQISSjkiRw/s1600-h/BlackWhiteTrees.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQJVjgM0KPgWdyRMo96nrCjEELg1Sydsym3pACm6Xt0vzsRlUWHD1CWIk-NA65-tIqWwoAdd2FAJiBeCs92aLi1IPO4wytq8_v9ktEYcD4NkyuSfwTZvQV51-MvYOXgjRnjQISSjkiRw/s400/BlackWhiteTrees.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447574681078830530" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Called to walk down the lane</div><div style="text-align: center;">Not knowing what is ahead</div><div style="text-align: center;">Yet a sense of security</div><div style="text-align: center;">With rows on either side</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Walking into light?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Walking into dark?</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm not certain </div><div style="text-align: center;">Yet am called to move forward</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3317155591032752156.post-67453321481928076242010-03-07T07:17:00.003-05:002010-03-07T07:25:43.682-05:00The sun rises<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0coOTKMb9ifbOCUNvjUaxbuwtz8qZ_sVUP7HVQIx2_Nxn8DCz-ui9IR13jXDoCvBqzJ1hAJFdw5uWrIgCIjI-6cHsJhQqGH5BHrOBwwAOMbsbnwplrzeqWKZL-pGT5BAcYGc8MSyI4lc/s1600-h/189290869_a694d8218a_b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0coOTKMb9ifbOCUNvjUaxbuwtz8qZ_sVUP7HVQIx2_Nxn8DCz-ui9IR13jXDoCvBqzJ1hAJFdw5uWrIgCIjI-6cHsJhQqGH5BHrOBwwAOMbsbnwplrzeqWKZL-pGT5BAcYGc8MSyI4lc/s400/189290869_a694d8218a_b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445866041550659842" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Only in the fashion designed by a benevolent God</div><div style="text-align: center;">The sun rises anew today.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The skies are blue</div><div style="text-align: center;">The birds sing trusting that spring is on its way</div><div style="text-align: center;">The cross .... by which you were sealed at your baptism</div><div style="text-align: center;">Welcomes you home</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In loving and warm memories</div><div style="text-align: center;">my friend Phil</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0