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When We Handicap Our Young. . . .
They were just children with a love offering. It glinted in the ground and when picked up it glittered as a star in the sky. Of course it would be given to the one loved most! And with grimy hand and full heart it was. With words accompanying the gift, they spilled as starbeams through…
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Given. . . With A Promise. . .
With a Promise. . . With the ongoing grief affecting so many in our nation, this was a gift given and I share with you. Our thoughts have a weight and those needing those thoughts are open to us. There will be a tomorrow somewhere. . . and we are asked to live…
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No Space To Grow Bread. . . .
No Space To Grow Bread. . . They are young, you say, with hormones raging in bodies, having no desire for libraries and no entry monies for museums . . . In these places, soldiers in perilous times were forever sowing seeds of freedom, with farmers tilling soil of rocks and clay to…
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Memory Quilt. . . in triumph warmed. . . .
Many of us have problems that have no resolution. Even after doing all the things we have learned and read about and even those things we have invented, there appear no answers on the horizon. We lose hope and we ourselves are at a loss. It seems strange and baffling that nothing is working. …
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Time’s Solace. . . Appreciated. . .
When life generously offers some time to enjoy the last vestiges of breathable air, one guards those hours or days like Midas with his eyes on gold. It is a gift to one whose head was incompletely closed and whose conscience unequivocally honed to needs of commitments. So the free time, the private time, the…
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The Simple Often Says It Right. . . .
The Jenny Genes are rightly sometimes a curse as well as blessing. It drives this writer to despair when the right word evades and the curse begins its perseverance work on me. And search I do for the precise word. For there is of course we think a precise word for everything. We…
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Connections I know. . .
And you will know also. . . Nine years ago, when I was 80, a grandson said I should do a blog. Not knowing what a blog was, he proceeded to teach me. This perennial student did not want to disappoint the good teacher. Edited here is one of the early posts where I try…
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A divine observation. . . .
A divine observation. . . You take love and wear as pearls. Shiny tears they once were. Shiny tears, but they fell to your breast and now they are gems. . . . …
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a soft goodnight. . . . .
A soft goodnight . . . as night arrives and blankets all, we take rest that is ours and allow it to heal . . . for it is no small thing given but as with all, we use what is ours and gently put the day to bed . the night still arrives…
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When You Have The Obligation . . .
Living The Martha Mary Story forever it seems. . . . . . It was the Martha -Mary story which raised the hackles and had me fuming. Martha wished to sit and listen to her friend and exchange thoughts but Mary of course took the seat. Mary did not offer to pour milk nor…