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Welcome Nora Claire ! . . . to our World. . .
My prayer . . . we welcome Nora Claire to this world. Welcome her in thought. Deluge the sisters in harmony so that their lives will sing in delight their variations. Songs will be different but the love sustaining will be profuse. I wish that every newborn would be welcomed in joy and abundant love. …
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When Heavens Thought Searches Ours. . . .
I have been wondering the quality of thought and also if my life could have been spent other than what I have been about. How much of it designed and designated and how much busy work simply to get through without causing mayhem, or just abandoning commitments and doing my thing, whatever it happened to…
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And The Uncertain Dance Is Made Easier. . .
Sometimes I think the youngers would be happy for me to lay down my things, and pay attention to do what other elders do, so it would be easier, than to pretend to listen to what they do not understand, to make fit into what they cannot relate. Senseless no doubt it seems to nothing…
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It Has To Be Taught. . . . Conscience. . .
Evolution says It has to be taught. . . It seems like such a small thing, this matter of conscience. No big deal we think, cause everyone has one, everyone’s born with one, right? Nada. Not. No. Everyone does not have a conscience which is knowing right from wrong, or more accurately, more true…
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Under One Name. . . .
Under One Name . . . (Genesis. Chapter 1. Verse 26) Even the big guys prayed, the Kings, the Princes, the Presidents and the Oligarchs with their buying billions, in that part of the night; the part that kept them all awake. In that dark pit when even the warm bodies beside them…
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A Mother’s Lament. . . not knowing how to love. . . .
She lamented after birthing eight children. . . and in her last days, was sorry because she knew how difficult life had been for me. I didn’t know how to love she said. Nobody taught me. And with the person who meant so much to her, her mother who did not rescue her, she…
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Aged Forever Friends. . . .
Like Me. . . aged old friends. . . . . I had been asked what are my favorite books I go back to time and again. Once there were friends and loves I phoned and chatted before my hearing deteriorated. And rather than ask to repeat themselves, now my books become my old friends…
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More Than A Hope . . for earth. . . .
More than a Hope. . . for earth. . . I grabbed an old yellow tablet to write on and came across a note I had written when I was reading Return To Life by Dr. Jim Tucker. The note read that observation determines the reality. Measuring something, I wrote, creates a reality that did…
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When a Dime is a Lot of Money. . . . .
Since I was a little person, I was conscious in an unconscious way that money was not available. I remember once arguing with my mother that it only costs a dime, whatever it was. And the wise woman said when you don’t have a dime, a dime is a lot of money. So I wished…
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Saints Standing. . .
Saints Standing. . . When I try to explain what track my thinking has taken in my life, even as a child or a teenager when a peer said that I talk as if I am reading out of a book, I am at a loss. In the following excerpt from The Last Bird Sings, …