Our fathers, Our husbands, Our God

I love you, little one. I will protect you. I will cherish you. I will always do what is good for you.

I love you, beloved one. I will protect you. I will cherish you. I will always do what is good for you.

I love you, dearest one. I will protect you. I will cherish you. I will always do what is good for you.

Funny poem I found in an old Friend magazine:

Service is helping.

It's doing things right.

When someone's in need,

We'll give them a bite--

A bite of the gospel.

A bite of some bread.

Either way,

I'll be blessed when I'm dead.

Marion M., age 10, Alaska

John 20 Terri Harvey

Why do I hasten down the road this after-Sabbath day,

the dust disturbed by my hurried footfalls?

My heart was broken with His on that darkening day,

and I was buried in sorrow through that night and day and night-

a joyless Sabbath, wondering at my faithless fears.

I saw Him heal and feed and pray; I felt the tears of testimony warm, then dry upon my cheeks.

I thought I knew.

But now my steps slow and falter among the rocks and thorns of this garden slope. Why do I climb? What do I seek? How dare I dare?

I will go and do as my heart has led me, with jar and cloth, and hope that I may find access to Him.

Confusion. Have I arrived? Is this the place? Discarded swords. Unbalanced rock ajar. Folded linen bleached blindingly white. But where...

Gone. All gone. Tragically gone.

Head down to calm my panic, forcing breath.

A voice?

“Woman, why weepest thou? What seekest thou?”

Poor kind gardener. How can I begin to open the gate of my heart? How could you, meek soul, abide the depth of what I have seen and heard and felt?

And yet I long for you to rescue me – to take this balm and bind the wound. I beg with clouded eyes.

“Mary.” A distant voice before. Now the familiar whisper of compassion. Dare I lift my eyes to meet his? Hoping hope restores my faith.

The final call to me is by pure Spirit – the purest breath of all.

At last I hear. I see. I feel. I answer:

Master ! 

Finnegan begin again

I think i'll post a blog again. I need to keep a journal. I want to share things I've read or learned so I can throw away the paper source. And sure - I might even TELL you things you wouldn't let me get away with verbally. Besides, you all will need some good material for my obituary someday. I'm old. And you'd better make it good - I WILL be there. (creepy)