War leaves scars. They are emotional. They are physical. They are spiritual.
My brother had proposed to my sister-in-law on Valentine's Day, and so it was on that fateful day, 12 years later that his and her lives would change forever.
My brother had invited his wife to the posh Phonecia Hotel in Beirut for a cosy romantic lunch date while their three kids were in school. They decided to sit at a table facing the window so they could see the beautiful view outside. They could see the azure sky touching the Mediterranean in the distance.
At first, they sat opposite each other, but feeling amorous, my brother asked Pam to sit next to him. She was facing the glass window.
During the meal, as they chatted, little did they know that a very important government official was passing on a street close by and that this event would mark them forever.
"On 14 February 2005, Rafic Hariri, the former Prime Minister of Lebanon, was killed, along with 21 others, when explosives equivalent of around 1,000 kilograms of TNT (2,200 pounds) were detonated as his motorcade drove near the St. George Hotel in Beirut."
This was only a short distance from where my brother and his wife were having their Valentine meal. The glass window imploded when the car bombs detonated, and my brother and his wife were thrown off their chairs. They were soaked in blood and for a while, found it hard to see or know what had happened. They were in a daze. The extensive bleeding was caused by the shards of glass they had been peppered with as the floor to ceiling glass imploded. They looked at each other and the ghastly sight was more than they could take.
In the mayhem that ensued, they were able to make their way outside the building with other injured people. Eventually, an ambulance rushed then to the nearby American University Hospital. It was nearby because my brother taught in the Business Department of the American University of Beirut, so they had decided to have a quick lunch in the nearby vicinity.
Extensive work was done on both their faces. My sister-in-aw had a tooth knocked out from the force of the impact as she was thrown to the ground. Her injuries were more obvious as she had been sitting facing the glass. Up to this day, my brother sometimes has pieces of glass make their way to the surface of the skin on his face, and he has to pull them out. That's how deeply they became embedded.
When later asked if they wanted cosmetic surgery done to cover up the zig zag scars on their faces, my spunky Canadian sister-in-law replied, "Why should we? This is part of our history, of what we have been through, and it gives us a great story to tell."
I wish I were as brave as she is. The three children had a hard time seeing their parents in this state. Pam had to stay in intensive care for a while and when the kids finally did get to see her, Dylan, the middle child, burst out crying and said, "Mama, I don't like what's happened to your face."
This is life in Lebanon. We have lived through the war. We have survived. We have scars that tell the stories. I have written a full article on this, and will post a few excerpts later.
We live in a spiritual battlefield. Christ came to rescue us, the wounded and the dying. He CHOSE to walk into the war zone. Jesus carries the scars in his hands and in his side of that rescue mission. He carries these marks for eternity, a sign of His great love and passion for us and for our salvation. He came to rescue the hostages of war....and "by His stripes, we are healed."
Isaiah 53: 5-
But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed
Quiet allows me to see..
all around me, everything..
gluttony, kindness, hypocrisy..
all at once, knowing.
In silence one is with Spirit.
In silence one can learn.
Why then all the world noise?
Can't you see your bridges burn?
They babble and babble and babble on
while i quietly observe.
They hustle, plot, help or scam..
I see clearly what they serve.
Disgusted with some, Delighted with others.
Everything around is Not as it first appears.
© Erin L. Adams 2013
MY PRINCESS OF IMAGINATION
You are an empress of Heaven who descended on earth
A dear angel of God has taken birth
Your presence brings an awesome fragrance of joy
You are more beautiful than the Helen Of Troy
You resemble a symbol of peace, calmness, wonder and cheer
Like numerous scented flowers engulfed the entire atmosphere
Your presence enthralls the atmosphere with such an ardent passion
Flowers bloom, birds sing, oceans roar, Heaven rejoices in a supernatural fashion
Being a stranger but yet so familiar is an experience of mystery
I wanna be with your present, wanna be with the dreams of your future but never become your past history
I know nothing of you... but your life is a holy book written so well
Synonymous in nature to a religious novel
Every word of which would be so pious and divine
Their utterance will strengthen my soul and make it purely refined
And every word of which I wish you would share with me
And I would keep on listening with extreme curiosity
Hope this book of your life is so lengthy never ending and complicated
That while explaining me with clarity, your entire life is dedicated
Going through your inspiring life will make my mind so captivated
That in things of the world my attention will be never diverted
I would sync deep into your thoughts dreams and emotions
Explore your life like navigating through the depth of mighty oceans
The facts of your life will be as delightful as your nature
Synonymous in experience with a lifetime adventure
to be remembered forever
I wish I was a memorable entity always alive in the vicinity of your thought
Some one who gifted u a special feeling which is beyond the scope of being bought
Spiritual connection with you is magical pleasure. My soul rejuvenates a lot
Your life is extraordinary, it is an eternal bliss
Similar to such a wonderful voyage, the bitter past I shall never reminisce
Your soul resembles heaven's beauty filled with an angel's grace
I wish to find rest and comfort in such a sacred place
Worldly creatures are mesmerized by your supreme fragrance of serenity
The peace u provide, the calmness u bring resembles an heavenly entity
Synonymous to a medical replenishment of decaying souls to repair all their defects
Such that all disturbance, grief and sorrow are conquered and lose their effects
By the holiness of your spirit every evil existence shall perish
This divine revolution will leave behind only sweet remains to cherish
You bring forth the delight of eternity, a heavenly aura and shine
Which enlightens, encourages depressed souls, their lives renewed and new hopes defined
The everlasting impact of your presence inspires me to build an immortal attachment
And reside under your shadow which symbolizes an abode of holy settlement
I observe a pattern of silence in your behavior
I am unsure if this is part of your natural gesture
What is the reason for this sense of melancholy strain?
May be there is some trauma which brings you pain
Some moments of life you spend in mere solitude
What made u acquire such a lonely attitude?
I pray in your life there must not be any sorrow
Even if there is, I would willfully like to borrow
Any cloud of darkness over your life is beyond my tolerance
No power can besiege your holy throne of reverence
Alas and at last, there is something to say
I am striving with a pathetic feeling of dismay
Why I am so helpless that can not talk to you
Why are you a stranger? Am I some one so new?
Albeit a stranger, why I feel myself so close to you
Its my dream to talk to you for indefinite moments
To disturb this peaceful conversation, i would'nt prefer ugly opponents
The passion of my imagination is beautiful far beyond the facts of reality
Where in I understand your holy life book in the sacred place with sanctity
I believe you live on earth but exist in the wonders of heaven
Alas your presence in my life may be something I am against hope hopen
Wish for an opportunity to express myself to you
Seems an awkward desire as u consider me so new
In the vision of my imagination, I will always find you near
Your divine presence eliminates any syndrome of fear
And I promise to cherish your presence in my memories till my days are over
I recognize your adorable nature rather than your beautiful look
I already defined you Synonymous to a precious holy book
Wish these feelings on your mind will have a profound impact
Finding acceptance in your life is still an unknown fact
Unknown is whether I bear that supreme fortune to experience your acceptance
Or Else you would consider me unimportant and indulge me in repentance
Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors
To honour my thoughts, please do me some small favours
Give me a true promise that you will forget me never
Request you to cherish these thoughts in your memory with pleasure
And edify yourself as heavenly princess as you are an eternal treasure
I am the peach.You are the pit.
We'll hang on this tree, until we fall.
And when we fall.Here we sit.
I am the peach.You are the pit.
I am the apple.You are the core.
When we fall from this tree.
We'll leave lots lots more.
I am the apple.You are the core.
I am the banana.You are the skin.
Never peeled off.With this we win.
So we are the fruit.
And we come from a tree.
This tree grows from the ground.
That's part of this earth.
Inwhich we live.
We are the fruit..
Tree Of Life Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
ALL rights reserved..
The passionate young man on his way to his love
Walked by a lake carrying a snow-white dove
Inside his shirt he held it close to his heart
When he heard a song - an enchanting work of art
The melody was captivating, full of sorrow -
The cries of a soul for whom there’s no tomorrow
An unknown fear gripped the young man’s heart
Dark crevasses of life to him were an unknown part
So full of life and hope, inevitability he never had to face
The source of the irresistible sound he wished to trace
He looked behind the dense brushes hiding the water
On seeing a wondrous swan his agitated mind grew calmer
He stood there mesmerized, the scene not comprehending
And a chill he felt from the bottom of his spine ascending
Why does something as beautiful as this must end?
Against a dark premonition himself he could not defend
The song told him everything that was, and ever will be
As he stood there listening, in his mind’s eye he could see
The birth of dreams and hopes, the path and the finish,
The igniting spark, the flame and the death of every wish
The swan sang his last and was swallowed by the lake
Slowly the young man from his vision did wake
He felt the dove in his shirt frantically flutter
He gently held it high and let it go, not a word did he utter
Innocence cannot build his nest in a bosom laden
And burdened with knowledge so dark and craven
The young man continued his journey to meet his darling
A long shadow followed him in his footsteps crawling
Across the lake on yonder side, hidden by the morning fog
An old man, frail and haggard, sat quietly on a bone-white log
He heard the swan too, and watched it get swallowed by the deep
But at this lonely funeral his half closed eyes did not weep
He felt it in his bones, and knew the end was near
So the swan song filled his feeble mind with fear
Since he was a young man he searched for the answer
The question being: What comes when to death we do surrender?
He looked to the sky but in vain, he begged but to no avail
The heavens did not open; his body and spirit were broken
When with the last notes of the swan song resounding
Asking for a sign, he saw a dove above the clouds climbing
On his crooked legs he stood as straight as he could
Raising his hands he pleaded, “Take me, if you would”
The solemn swan song became a victorious celebration,
A joyous symphony of the never ending glory of creation
The frail old body fell back onto the bone-white log
Never again to emerge from that otherworldly fog
But a peaceful smile on the old man’s face remained
Having his long-lost innocence of youth finally regained
Your love to me I am on fire.
My desire of the heart it feels.
Your words I hear your voice among them.
I reach out to touch but can not feel.
My empitness of life the void of image I see.
A beauty before my grace I fall to my knees.
My tears they drench in sorrow.
The belove I hold near my heart in dreams.
But only in hopes of tomorrows do I love.
But my every desire to touch and hold you close.
It is my dream to love once more deep in my soul.
But never be alone in darkness and always be love in heart.
My beloved wife
It was the crows calling that gave the final warning on this mid October morning.
Just as the mist began falling upon the hills in a strange manner that was almost unnerving.
This morn shall be my final calling as my soul begins souring high above the clouds on this mid October morning.
Signalled by the single rose placed upon my coffin.
Not a healthy rose but one that's wilting, It's red petals fading and it's leaves browning.
It was placed upon my coffin by a loan woman who stands morning on this bitter October morning.
She turns towards home and begins walking, towards my old manor house that now stands rotting.
She passes the spot in the garden where she hid the knife the other morning, just before the police came calling.
Alerted by the chamber maid screaming upon discovering by body laying bleeding.
Murder was the diagnosis, probably by a burglar was the prognosis.
The window was broken and my jewellery was stolen.
They didn't bother to ask about the missing kitchen knife, it was all falling into place for my dearly beloved wife.
As she approached she questions what she saw, large boards placed upon the entrance door.
Upon the door a sign held by a single rusty nail, it read this property is now for sale.
Due to deceased occupants an auction will now take place, in gods grace she calls out from behind her veil of lace.
This can't be true, I felt the morning dew seep through into my newly bought shoe, she pauses for breath as she begins to think things through.
Now the truth begins dawning that it was her soul and not her body that left the hill this morning.
We are now two souls exploring, one up and one down on this bitter October morning.
Sitting past his chamber door, once was a man who was adored. Every night and every day he had a girl, for whom they stayed.
After all his love and all his lies, he met a girl who caught his eyes. She went by Bunny for name is not known. He implored her to stay at his place she called cave.
"Oh, my sweet Bunny" claimed the man, "forgive me for being the fool i am". Gazing upon her picture from days not long ago, stood a rabbit at his door. "Flee White Rabbit!" screamed the man, "For i loathe a presence such as yours!".
The Rabbit thumped twice, as it looked at the man, with no expression as it only can. "I loathe a presence such as yours!, leave my house i implore you at once!" barked the man, as the rabbit once more thumped again expressionless as ever.
"Enough!" exclaimed the man while he kicked the rabbit out his door, hopping away with a limp on its leg. " I begged you rabbit to let me be, for not i who took your mobility!", so stopped the rabbit in his way only to look back and thump some more.
"Taunt me no more rabbit, for i am through. you will thump nor live past noon!". said the man as he angrily got his car. Chasing down the rabbit as it hopped away. Raging throughout the streets, only to come to a dead end with the rabbit in his sights.
"Finally", said the man, "your life will perish at my hands" the rabbit thumping as the mans heart races only to charge into the wall. Out of the midst comes the rabbit limping to be grabbed by the ears from the man half dead. "Is there nothing you can do, but try to taunt me i dare of you!" screamed the man
As his blurred vision turned to reality, only to witness the white rabbits identity. "My love?" Bunny whispered face all bruised and right leg twisted. "Its not your fault, only if i had given you medicine, so you can tell from right and wrong"
She fights for her last gasp as her life is taken while the white rabbit fades from existence. Her hair slips from his hands, "Oh God, I'm a murderer!" he cries "beseech me god, for i am insane!".
A Black Rabbit with dark red eyes appears on the hood of his car. Thumping so rapidly as the man clenches his heart, to only give a breath of cold. As his lifeless body lays the rabbit again hops away.
A well of crystal clear water, untainted potentiality
Dug deep in the ground by a house of motionless morality
Refined, dainty dwellers of the house were abounding
But howling winds of doubt on the door came a pounding
The winds brought dark clouds of fear and foreboding
Faith, hope, truthfulness and fidelity have begun eroding
Whence the warlike, wailing winds came there is no telling
But once the whispers began, of them there was no quelling
The master of the house was enticed and by fear persuaded
His judgment faded and the cosmic for the telluric he traded
Promised he was nothing, perhaps mere elemental existence
But with blind persistence he thirsted for his own subsistence
“Drown your past, smother your pride, and stifle your dignity,
The price for your precious prize will be a mark of infamy”
One by one the master sacrificed and slaughtered his brood
Lifeless, they were all thrown in the well after being subdued
The water once crystal clear turned murky, opaque and dim
Existence to the master was granted, but life became grim
He stands by the well, peering into the bottomless, abysmal pit
Forever thinking to undo this unhallowed story he`d writ
The inner vision becomes blind
When cobwebs clutter the mind
With every thought of doubt
A new thread weaves about
You can no longer see
The true sight of reality
Your faith begins to slim
You can only see the grim
The self imposed web
Deceives your life ahead
You are in a tangled mess
Full of weary with no rest
The only way to get out
Is to let go of the doubt
Yes easier said than done
Negative views hit everyone
Be strong and take a stand
Believe in the good at hand
That God will see you through
No matter what you have to do
Take each step in life with ease
As you live with inner peace
Clear away the cobweb trend
It will all work out in the end
Florence McMillian (Flo)
Social Worker came
Said, received a call about me
Reported someone harassing me
Answered, worry not, “I’m fine”
[Eternal] God’s taking care of me.
Couple of days
Police detective came, Katie
Took a copy of Cris picture
Even his son’s picture
Brought 2 Social Workers
I took a test, told them the truth
She said, “Oh…He got scammed”
Told them not to worry,” I’m fine”
Said depending with test result
They’ll contact me
Never heard from them ‘til now
Told them “Father Christ got my back”
Inspired by a close friend to remind me to keep holding on to hope as I pass it along.
Focus on the Good
To keep your focus
Only on the good
Doesn't come as easy
As it seems it would
All the daily hectic-ness
With those ups and downs
Brings the woe and worry
That tries to chase you down
It is like being trapped
In a wilderness of weeds
Ever growing wild and tall
For as far the eye can see
Then you see a little flower
In the weeds bursting through
Or was it the few kind words
You heard spoken directly to you
The fruit of the Heavenly Spirit
Full of love, happiness and joy
Lives within us to give to others
For your goodness to self employ
When that flower or bit of kindness
Runs into more conflict somewhere
Be sure to look before it fades away
For another beautiful bloom to appear
When you see even a little sparkle
Clear away the debris to let it shine
Turn away from the discontentment
Keep only goodness in your mind
For us to inherit His kingdom
One thing the Bible does say
We should focus on the good
Before we find the pathway
Florence McMillian (Flo)
He sought the sacred fire for so long
One day it manifested through a song
The flame was small and gentle, as he ran with it
The dark, deserted streets were beautifully lit
He took it home, spoke not a word
Then came the silent whisper, “Ye must be undeterred”
He took an old wooden clock, broke the hands of time
Fed them to the fire as church bells did chime
The flames grew stronger, sustenance they craved
Whatever he had he gave, till he was slowly enslaved
He loved the fire, and it consumed all but his desire
He was willingly caught in this miraculous mire
His books and clothes, his possessions were next
They fed the flames as the world stood perplexed
He knew no father, mother nor needed no friend
He lived for the fire and longed for the end
“You must be weightless if you wish to ascend”
So he burned his dreams and sorrows to transcend
He became empty and hollow inside, a shell of a man,
He felt lighter and lighter and his flight he began
His past and his future still lived in his blood
Quickly he slit his wrists and gave them all up
There he was, drained and hollow, sitting by the fire
With nothing left to do but to expire
He embraced the flames; the heat propelled him higher,
And together they danced forever in a ball of beautiful fire.
So if you meet a salamander on a cold, dark night
Know it`ll teach you about the fire, if you treat it right
The apostles entrusted the “Sacred deposit” of the faith
Contained in Sacred scripture and Tradition
To the whole Church
By adhering to this heritage
The entire holy people
United to its pastors
Remains always faithful to the teaching of the apostles
To the breaking of bread
So, in maintaining
Professing the faith that has been handed on
There should be a remarkable harmony between the bishops
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears
A diminishing Rose Bush
With every pedal plucked, beauty is fading away
Losing its essence of greatness
As we proceed to deplete its history
Life flows away,
I remain standing above
Stems are bare and exposed
Vulnerable to the world and its nature
I give woes
I give worries
I give troubles
These are my possibilities
Then the death of a rose and destruction
Bare my green,
My DNA shows traces of the best soils
Traced back to my mother’s land
Surrounded by fellow planted gold
Some will never know
Doing well isn’t doing well
We can’t bloom unless we unfold
Reproduce the best again
Stop dying daily for less than a win
There’s nothing we can’t do
That we’ve done once again
The next season will bring new pedals
I will never grow pass go anymore
Next year, beauty will flourish
Next season remains to nourish
Each season we should cherished
In our best moments
Each year is the best one of your life.
I feel that I have found a home in this cyberspace
with full of hearts and ideas in a special place
I wonder of all the people in the world to make me smile
with antics that help me grow in every mile
I do want to say to all of the people with respect
because of all of you my mind is not in a wreck
I would lie if I did not get ideas from all of you
without you my poems would not come true
I bless everyone with care
with kindness and without dis-pare
I hold my hands high and put them together
with this I bless you with good weather
I do read some of the poems that people put out
sometimes I feel with out a doubt
I feel the pain in the poems that some has revealed
with hopes that they can read with their mind not sealed
I smile a bunch with every word
it is like a music in my head making a cord
I do want you all to know that you have made my day
to be a better day in every different array
I cherish my time with all the people in my heart
the words flow in my mind is just but a start
I'm happy with everyone in PoetrySoup.com
with hardship that came this cyberspace makes me calm
I cannot choose five cause if I do I don't think it's right
just to tell you that is just my own insight
I thank all for helping me grow with all the poems that are shown
with faith and humor, with views of kindness this site has grown
If I had to say or dedicate my poems to who
would be the first five who reads my poems with a point of view
The roaring brook did shine upon the wet
rocks, as does the sun and the moon on the
new fallen snow.
I walk alone, alone having only one thought
in mind. Some God must have made all this
Listen, listen, to the sounds.
The brook, the car, the bird, the airplane,
the wind, all have their own sound breaking
into the stillness. But still not fazing it.
If the sun and the moon can say it any better,
let them. I heard their cry in a snow flakes,
eye. The same stillness. Only more.
If I were Lord over all that came, all that is past
and all that is to come, I would say Amen
again and again with only stillness in my glee.
There seems to be a well of stillness, ever
flowing into the sea of life, from whence there
is no escape. I am a part, you are a part.
There is a heaven or hell into which we have
all died. A blessed stillness, a barrier that
divides God from man. A stillness, with Love
and reverence for it. For before it, is God.
My Devil’s stronger,
He feeds on my tears and
Lives in my fears.
My Devil’s hideous,
He pulls me into darkness and
Keeps himself harmless.
My Devil’s fierce,
The result of procrastination
Who surrounds with frustrations.
My Devil’s dirty,
He kills and bathes with blood
For all he brings is dark evil flood.
But my devil doesn’t know
What it is like after he’s gone
For I have a shoulder to lean on.
But my devil doesn’t feel
That who it is,
The one to steal his day-dreamed ease.
But my devil doesn’t fear,
Because he doesn’t believe
That there’s something that’ll get me heaved.
But my devil will never regret,
For what he has done
Until the day he’ll be gone.
And the day will someday come,
When my lord will punish the ungrateful
And the day will someday come,
When my devil will be badly broken.
And the day will someday come
When my lord will get him spoken.
And the day will someday come,
When my devil will be banished and vanished from my world.
And the day when that will happen,
My life will be no less than gold.
And it’ll no longer will be devil who’ll keep me behold…
The Beauty Within
When a heart is kind
Goodness seeps into your mind
Peacefulness flows all about
As the inner beauty turns inside out
When the kindness of the heart is given
Energy flows with life worth living
All living life comes from the Lord
His inner beauty keeps us in accord
That glorious beauty of nature
Shows God’s kind heart so pure
The beauty is an unspoken love
That comes from our Lord above
When we begin to focus
On God’s beauty all around us
A sense of peace will slowly start
As you feel the goodness of God’s heart
It is all the glory of the Lord’s
Gracious beauty of His innards
Kindness begets kindness like a friend
Pouring out all the beauty from within
Not everyone can see inner beauty
As we all look at others differently
Only within the eyes of the beholder
Will the true beauty begin to smolder
A person is not seen by their outer shell
That’s how I see it as far as I can tell
A bitter heart that deceives like a crook
Appears ugly no matter how great you look
Let your heart be kind and always shine
Your inner beauty all of the time!
Florence McMillian (Flo)
God Is Real/Miracles Happen
By Nate Spears
God is real, and miracles happen
Despite of his struggles
The middle class poet kept on writing his chapters
Times were tough
But he didn’t give up
His bills were overdue
No water, no power
He used GOD as his source; and
kept on writing his chapters
Then came a knock
He opened his door, but no one was there
There was a note left behind, along with a white feather on his mat
A rent paid receipt
Plus full payment of his utilities
He closed the door quickly, and went back in the house to his desk
The pages in his book was flipped
to a ending page he couldn’t miss
A inspirational piece was left behind that he didn’t write
It read this:
For your time and effort given
to lead and inspire, this is the final chapter in your book that I so desire.
I restored your power, to give you energy to write.
I gave you water again, for the tears shed on your writes.
I provided funding for your rent, for the priceless messages your poems present.
Those sheets of paper have inspired many lives in need to vent.
I read the final chapter, and started to cry
I glanced out the window at a river of joy nearby
A rainbow appeared in the sky
Under covering my darkness
There lies a ray of light
No matter how deep life pounds
No matter how hard things get
If you believe you can overcome
Just keep up the fight
The battle is already won
Sacred Scripture is the speech of Eternal God
As it is put down in writing
Under the breath of the Eternal Holy Spirit
Holy tradition transmits in its entirety the Word of Eternal God
Entrusted to the apostles by Father Christ, the Lord
Enlightened by the Spirit of truth
They may faithfully preserve
And spread it abroad by their preaching
Church, to whom the transmission
Interpretation of Revelation is entrusted
Does not derive her Both Scripture and Tradition
Must be accepted and honored
Equal sentiments of devotion
When I‘ll get over with this,
With this suffocation,
I want you my Creator,
To make it a memorable day.
Be it unlike a usual day,
though their hearts would still beat,
sun would rise and set,
life would be just as it was before,
so Let me write down something at least,
my shroud be unlike some others,
Even I would've aged, powder me,
THE END should end beautifully.
Don’t widen your eyes,
I’m a simple person with simple unfulfilled Desires,
That meant life, accept that,
Be careful because I was too a bastion like you.
When I’m done with the later offerings,
I 'll know,
I will be listening __
For all the answers that I have awaited for so long.
closely, in the dust, in the air,
Out there, I‘ll be watching , vehemently.
Mother Mary appeared 18 times
Young woman Bernadette Soubirous
Announcing: “I am the Immaculate Conception”
Mother Mary helped Bernadette
Discover a hidden spring of grotto
That Spring was soon to become
Fountain of faith, hope
Healing for millions of pilgrims
Lourdes, truly a place of healing
Church recognizes 66 miraculous cures there
Thousands more have been reported
Lourdes a place they found peace
In coming to understand
Accept Eternal God’s will for them
To all who are sick in body and spirit
The Lord brings hope
Comfort through Our Lady of Lourdes
The tradition in question comes from the apostles
Hands on when they received from Jesus’ teaching examples
What they learned from the Eternal Holy Spirit
First generation of Christian did not have a written New Testament
It demonstrates the process of living tradition
Tradition is to be distinguished from the various theological
Liturgical or devotional traditions
Born in the local churches over time
These are particular forms
Adapted to different places
In which the great Tradition is expressed in the light of Tradition
The traditions can be retained
Even abandoned under the guidance of the Church’s magisterium
Is to invite all into your life, regardless of
sexual orientation, race, creed, nationality
It is as to say sorry for not having done so
before but like so many unable to know the
Love in all.
When we are able to put all our cards on the
table, an ace is still an ace, a spade is still
In life’s experience we’ve know the value of
our weakness, the merits of our victories and
shadows of our faith.
We’ve known God as the devil. In better days
we will sing a more triumphant song to the
A mighty fortress is our God…In our own
strength confide…no mortal ills prevailing…
God’s Love is never falling.
It is in Christ we belong.
The task of giving an authentic interpretation of the Word of Eternal God
Has been entrusted to the living
Teaching office of the Church alone
Its authority in this matter exercised in the name of Jesus Christ
It means that the task of interpretation has been entrusted
To the bishops in communion in successor of St. Peter
The bishop of Rome
This Magisterium is not superior to the Word of Eternal God
But it is its friends
It teaches only that has been handed to it
At the divine command with the help of Eternal Holy Spirit
It listens to this devotedly
Guards it with dedication
Expounds it faithfully
All it proposes for belief as being divinely revealed
Drawn from this single deposit of faith
Mindful of Father Christ’s words to His apostles
“He who hears you, hears me”
The faithful receive with docility the teachings
Derives that their pastors give them in different forms
On that long train ahead
On that long train ahead, I am always the caboose.
The long train ahead reaches, out into infinity’s heaven.
The Holy Spirit often like an engineer, guiding its destination.
The locomotive makes the most noise, gets credit for the job well done.
The cars in the middle so coupled, mingle with one another so tracked.
The caboose at the end of the train coasting forward, knowing no ending.
On that long train ahead the caboose not seen will be there, the conductors
“All aboard” knows.
John H. Hardison..
I re-dedicate this poem to my sweet friend, Stephen Pettye, who is full of power and strength as he travels this lifetime in a number one status to reach the goals of his full inner growth. This poem is to help clear his path along the way:
Take those piled up worries
And let your troubles go
They always go back and forth
In our minds to and fro
On a clear day
With no clouds in the sky
Cast you worries away
Leaving no questions to ask why
Giving more time to count blessings
And be thankful for what you’ve got
It feels so gloriously wonderful
To truly and completely worry not
Just clear your mind
Away from all thought
And enjoy the great feelings
That fill the space you’ve caught
There are messages to read
When the clouds are out
That’s when we’re given
Something to think about
On a clear cloud free day
Leave all worries behind
Well that’s what I do
To clear my mind
Yes, it feels good
To be worry free
And to leave it all
With the one Almighty
So when the sky is clear
I will always worry not
And thank our dear Lord
For all the blessings I’ve got
Florence McMillian (Flo)
Morning came as whispers in my ear slowly says echoing I love you
The embrace and let go of the warmth of the sun and sheet move it was a cue
The voice echoing that whispers in my ears again says do you hear that?
The gurgle of the coffee, and the smell of caffeine in the air sat
A determine voice still echoing says it is time for you to get up my love
As I open my eyes I look outside as I see one dove
Cooing me, and it's bright white feathers has gotten my attention
As I looked around my dream of my love disappears as it put me into depression
A sadness crackled into my heart, and a discerning look came to
I wake up every morning hearing her voice in the summer morning dew
The little hand lay open in his mother's palm;
Large tears washed streaks of white across two dirty cheeks.
His soft, dark eyes were wide with innocence and pain,
And small, trembling lips found it difficult to speak.
She held him close and wiped the spot of blood away
And applied to the injury a bit of balm.
"Now, don't cry; a carpenter often hurts his hands.
All will be well. Shall Mama sing to you a psalm?"
The child's sobs hushed; all around the house grew still
Save for the sound of Joseph's tools against the wood.
"Sing the shepherd's psalm, Mama; sing of the way through
Death's shadowed valley and the Shepherd who is good."
Mary pressed his rosy cheek closer to her breast;
Her eyes welled up with stinging tears; her face grew pale.
She held the little injured hand and knew not why
She trembled so at the imprint of one small nail.