A couple of days ago I found a site on YouTube that arrested my attention. SermonIndex.net contained portions from the sermons of six preachers whose ministry together spanned more than half a century in different locations. Whatever their geographic locations, their sermons had a common theme. With one voice, they contended that there was a […]
Putting on your shoes, reaching over the bed, damn, it’s a long way down there, putting on your shoes, what a dream. How simple a thought how impossible the dream, he looks at the shoes, the day is an anniversary. Twelve months since the accident, it seems like yesterday. The waiting is the worst part. He pulled the bell ten minutes earlier, still no response. It’s a busy unit. He stares at the shoes, thinking all the time, the petty issues we worry over, nothing really. The soup is cold, does it matter, the meat is over cooked, was the chef drinking again, the wry comments. He left the restaurant, his memory is fuzzy, it’s never the same after a great trauma. He tries to recall the events, but it gets to the point when it goes blank. He was three days in a coma.
The door opens, she opens her mouth, a cheery sound escapes. Ready for the day, any plans she says. He looks at the shoes, she catches his gaze, knows what he is thinking. One day, they are making great strides medically she says. Nineteen years of age, unable to move from the chest down, and you think it’s tough he says, thinking to himself.
Solomon sighed; there is a Spirit you can ignite inside you, but it requires effort, a step in the dark, but you have to trust. What was it Jesus said; you have to have faith, that’s where the power of Spirit lies. Once you did, you could ask for anything. Imagine the wonder, the feelings in the feet, pins and needles feeling, a grief to some, the greatest of reliefs to others.
The room is full of machines, she is lying on the bed, slowly in recovery from the shock, a shopping trip, she ends up at the hospital instead, the change in circumstance. Life changes so suddenly, she is unsure, strangers about her, a friend enters the room, she breathes a sigh of relief. There is a real conversation, what happened the friend says. She looks at the machines before continuing. I felt dizzy, and must have blacked out. Her friend sighs to herself, no slur in the speech, no stroke. The two friends look at each other; they have been partners for a long time, doing everything together. What would I do if anything happened you she says, the visitor. One change and we are all affected, are we selfish to think this way. One day your buoyant and going places, the next day your a stone in the wall, someone else is leaning on you. Experience is like that. All the pebbles, the days that seemed nothing, now lying there, she is glad to have an ordinary day, any day free from the machines. If she walks away on her own steam she will be satisfied.
Solomon heard news of a friend who had a sudden health change. The circle of friends had lost a cog, and while it is temporary, it’s still a hole in the circle. The roles we play in life, the harmless seeming moments, when a regular stranger stops by and enjoys the company, respite from a crazy world. How the Spirit needs a rest from the drama’s of the world and the failure of many of the religious to understand the basics of Spiritual needs. One day they would hopefully understand, amen.
It happens, the sudden changes, the appeal to God Most High, the call. Do we hear the cry of the emigrant, or did we turn our eyes away when we saw the poverty on the street, embarrassed to look in case it was a disease you could catch. One day, the question will be on all our lips, could we have done more.
You can have petty arguments that blow up into full scale revolutions, the harm you think your putting an end to, only to realize later the bigger hole you have built for yourself, thereby the merry go round of harm spins faster, the eye for an eye mentality that so many hold so dear, ends up destroying happiness and causing even more harm everywhere, the very goal you had when your started your emeute, as Victor Hugo would say, an end to it. Retaliate, how we hear those words, we have to avenge ourselves, we have to get even, we will lose face, how many wars were started with that mindset, nations and tribes emotionalized to the point of frenzy, while the voices of reason were drowned out.
Solomon sighed, it was refreshing to hear the comparative remarks of Donald Trump, who decided not to avenge the so called hurt caused in the Arabian Gulf, be it a blip, be it a bonfire started by a child, two tribes didn’t go to war, and reason was used, when the expected response didn’t occur. Emeute, struggles that can be solved without blood shed, you just have to listen.
Solomon was reading the literary classic of Victor Hugo, pages of rhythm, written 150 years ago, explaining how the world had to learn from it’s past. Many years later, after so many social changes, the core of the book, still holds. Hugo, Thanks for making the effort, amen. Having encountered the Spirit, Solomon had his own reasons for listening; we are under the Holy Radar, what a great feeling, amen.
The trouble is it never changes, the same things happen over and over, Amo is listening to his friend, they are enjoying a coffee at a favorite coffee shop. The two friends are mulling over the times, they are near their end, it’s a matter of time Amo says. His friend smiles, the two of them are not what they were, the limbs are worn, and the eyesight is fading, but they have been friends a long time. They are discussing the end of days, not theirs, that’s a given, its the new world to come that excites them. A lot of new voices are rising up, and there has been many signs, as written in the books of old. Could it be true Amo says, he is excited. The second plane landed on the water, and all survived, the names in the press have an ancient heritage to them, there are changes going on in places no one could have considered, and a TV character is now the president of the United States.
His friend smiles, his head leans left, a smartly dressed young woman passes, just out of his age range by fifty years, Amo leans left too, those were the days, then adds, that New Guy too, at least he’s got serious medical help. Another young woman passes, her head at an angle to the ground, bent over, she is reading her phone, how does she do that without falling over. Amo laughs, it’s good just being able to walk.
Solomon sat at another table, the conversation wagged his ears, he wasn’t spying, he was learning. A matter of time, Ezra said it, or was it the angel, when the time comes, the birthing process begins, a serious of signs, the soft warnings, then it gets closer. It reminded him of a spiral. A matter of time, why not invest in Spirit, he sighed. Given the changes going on, the human race could do with more credit in those hidden places, it’s a matter of time.
Hey gang! I found a very appealing and fascinating set of postcards from 1907 , featuring newlyweds off on their first adventure together : – their honeymoon. These cards were published by the Julius Bien & Co. Lithographic firm, which was in business between 1850-1915 in New York City. Bien himself was originally an immigrant […]
You can’t look at me that way, you can’t come into the house and treat me like a slave, where did you learn such things. Another scene, they enter the club, the girls are toe rags, flash the cash, do what you like, you can get to humiliate them, they are so high, what does it matter, another man’s daughter. The thought never hits you, just legs and a bush, and time to get excited, someones daughter, what planet are you on.
He twists in the bed, the thoughts run around his head, getting older, he can sense the future, what if, the big question on the minds of many, is their really a Messiah and a God, he is soaked in sweat, what the blazes are you thinking Roy, this is insane he says, talking himself through his personal nightmare. Who can say no to God, well, many have said no to good, he twists in the bed. They sleep in separate beds, have been a long time. I loved her then, then, well, I do love her now, he is not sure, what was he hiding from all his life. She loved him anyway, and if he wasn’t busy in the passion department he was always a great father. She never told him, she realized his quirky ways, fell in love with them, the sexual world was never her thrill, she was always a mother in the making, and compassion is her way, way she treats the world.
Solomon wondered how many folks were having the what if moment, the signs were all pointing up, and the old guard were being swept aside, a new understanding was gaining a hold, and the plans of the extremists were about to implode. A man in power wore all the faults of the human race, went through the entire fault spectrum, warts and all, and the opposition hadn’t laid a punch on him, seemed as if he was holding up the proverbial mirror. Solomon smiled, who could have wrote the script, a pope from the edge of the world, Islamic leaders driving change, and a very open society in the Irish republic, a far cry from the closed days of doom and gloom that used to be preached, and the women who left many shores in order to find freedom.
Understanding Compassion was a topic on the minds of many. The light of divine intervention was making it clear; we are tenants in someone else’s vineyard.