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When The Plough Seems Too Heavy. . . . .
Gleanings . . . If you do not intend to look back, remember to lift the plough. And sometimes the plough seems too heavy to lift but we push on anyway to find it is a joy and a privilege. ***** Always state the condition of the heart in preference to appearance. You will…
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Where The Real Money is Counted. . . .
Now, tell me what you think. . . . Now talk to me, and tell me what you think. I want to know the conclusions you have reached. Tell me what you know, not what others have said. I can read what they have said about any number of topics. I want to hear your…
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Can One Be A Better Anything Than One Is A Person?. . .
Can One Be a Better Anything Than One Is a Person? Many times, even vehemently, it has been stated that one cannot be a better anything than one is a person. And the lesson is one well taken. It would seem that more work is needed in the moral posturing of would be leaders. …
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My Sanctuary, my Earth. . . .2018
My Sanctuary, My Earth. . . What I found in the sanctuary of my yard, a church if you will, and still do, is a pull, albeit a magnetic one, to a something that transcends the physical. I function in the physical, but never seeing it in just a single dimension. There is a height,…
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Come, Sit With Me. . .
The words to each will mean something different. They will root in the heart, in the mind and have a life of their own with you. At some time I hope, they will mean a something that answers what is now a question. Our Time Is Now. . . Listen to the peoples, listen to…
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The Old Country. . .
Home of One’s Soul. . . The Teachers Speak. . . Every so often, out of one’s domain, there is an isolation that swamps one. It is difficult to shake, and yet there it is, evidence that this is not home. There is a portion or many portions appealing to one, yet basically,…
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The Ruler. . .
The Ruler . . . Do not chop me up in little pieces. I hate the sight of what I see when I see me through your eyes. I strive to be perfect and in doing so find me killing my very self. By whose yardstick am I measured that I should fall so…
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The Cost Of War?. .don’t get me started. . . .
The Cost Of War. . .Knotted Family Ties. . . She was little more than a toddler. She was plain, even mousy by standards of beauty deemed for the very few. Stringy hair, hazel eyes with poor sight even and not the porcelain English complexion esteemed by her heritage. Left with her brother in Scotland…
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Cost Commensurate. . .
What can be born and be borne? Knowledge is that all reality is a preferential viewpoint. That the dream is born and in it will be the lesson plans inherent. That with the lesson plans will be what we need to learn and they will be borne within the dream’s boundaries and the…
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We Can Always Say. . . not ready. . . .
On What We Build Our Lives. . . The construction is still in process, but we are nesting! I am not sure it is Maudie, but surely a younger. No doubt word was given that if babies are on the agenda, ‘this place is one we know and trust. And they talk to you with…