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And we go home. . . .
And we go home. . . What will you do when fatigue overcomes and chores lay waiting and heart and conscience say you must speak to these babes? The work of your hands gives them a piece of you to hold and a piece of your heart. In it all will be gold. Take…
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God In A Rock. . .
God In A Rock. . . . Stay with me for a bit. This may seem unconnected, but it vitally connects. Peter Wohlleben while tending a forest in Germany came to the realization that there is communication and relationships among trees. He writes about this in a book called The Hidden Life of Trees. …
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How Long Before All Worlds Will Be Safe . . . ?
Sometimes I run previous posts to acquaint my new readers with earlier work to show where it is I come from. This is one of those times I need to remember for me. A gift given and life was renewed and I am grateful. There is always hope with a writer that words written will…
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Say This I Can Do. . .and hold in your hand. . . .
I want to show you the final results of the blue material I made on post previously. This I completed and wanted you to see what you can do just for fun. It is a creative endeavor and limited only by the boundaries you set. And I hope they will be few. The next…
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In A More Perfect World. . .
There were just a few of us gathered when we were young and the talk was rising in enthusiasm about what a swath to be cut by the young on the political scene. There was energy and ideas with a tail wind to push these things to fruition. We would make a difference where our…
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A Peace of Mind. . . .
It is not the mystery of life which stunts man and does not beguile him to further thought. It is the work involved. ***** It is not easy for Wendy to become Tinkerbell in one fell swoop. Not without destroying Peter Pan in that fell swoop. ***** Statistics are meant to sell beer and not…
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Do. . . and you will be shown how. . . .
Do . . . .And you will be shown how. . . . When I was a girl Shirley Temple curls were popular and I sorely wished for a doll with real hair. I wanted my doll to have curls. My mother occasionally bought Honey Crush bread I think it was called and I coveted…
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On Wings Of Hope. . . .
Once Covered With Dreams. . . . Some may think there might be no choice on anyone’s part for any thing. All things may be a matter of destiny. Many think there are choices in all avenues. But supposing there are no conscious options. Supposing conscience already speaks on issues and there are no…
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Show Me. . .the highest altar of the Mind. . . .
It was only in rereading the journals for August of ’17 that I happened to come across these words. Oftentimes I don’t get back to entries long after they are written. And then I am often humbled by what is given. I am in the midst of this mental conference and when fatigue overcomes, I…
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To Feed My Spirit. . . .
Lately I find myself not equal to the day’s events. And considering how close the century mark hovers, it is not unusual. But I cannot remember with this body how I rose to the occasions when events played havoc with my heart. So I take myself to the work table and create something from scratch. …