Where’s The Treats…

We have to feed them, they will be expecting to get fed, otherwise they won’t come. Jesus sighs, what kind of world is this, if I was after a crowd I would have come with a singing voice, DARN, this is a lesson in eternal life not self gratification. Jesus looks up at the sky, well He says, what am I supposed to do now. His Father sighs, He’s my son, always looking for the signs.

A bread truck is on the road nearby, a lazy council worker failed to fill in a pot hole, the truck hits the rim of the tire hard against it, it bursts the Tyre. The driver gets out, shit, He has a load of fresh bread in the truck, his mobile is out of power, and he is in the middle of hill country. He decides to check out the countryside. The union does not allow drivers to do anything dangerous, such as refit a tire, it’s not in the union manual, that’s the other unions job.

The driver passes the driveway of what seems like a farm, he approaches. Knocks on the door of the shack. Jesus emerges, bunch of papers in hand. Your the Bread man says Jesus with a smile. Solomon sighed. He recalled the story of a visit to old Amo, an old friend who moved up. With God, nothing is impossible, you just have to believe, amen.

To All the women who struggled, had to put up with it, this is Saint Brigid’s day..

Solomon sighed, he wondered where the sense of nurture was found in most lives; the answer came easy, he thought of the mothers of this world, and all that they sought, a peace filled world for their children, fairness, and respect. It is not a lot to ask for, but considering the huge numbers of women burned at the stake, and how the role of the feminine was dragged through the proverbial sewer, unless you were lucky enough, to have been chosen by the King, and those with similar fortunes.

Solomon wondered; how did we thrash so many great gifts, why did we listen to those mantra’s, there is nothing you can do; what influence was trying to instill this into so many heads. Saint Brigid would have given them short shrift. A no nonsense lady, amen, blessed with the Spirit from above….

One Point Three Million….

That’s a lot of kidneys, eyes, livers, stomachs, thigh bones, where did they put it all, and what religion did they follow anyway!. Well, we are all influenced as they say. The pastor leading the group of children through the tour of the Death Camp, hesitated, he didn’t have an answer to the young girls question. Could he say for sure, they were ours, or was it their’s. Solomon was reflecting on the power of forgiveness, and wondered if any lessons had been learned. There were still those within the church, trying to stifle argument and learning, their ways embedded in the past. He imagined the thoughts in all the young heads, wondering if they joined the dots; What they were looking at was, the remains of extremism mixed with religious fundamentalism gone awry, aided by the growth of new technology.

Maybe if there had been more women in the upper hierarchy of the church, more compassion would exist, something the victims would never be able to find out. Solomon saw efforts to direct his thoughts, that were man made. Regardless, what had to be said, would be said, amen. In the papers, the media was hawking stories of those with influence, who had gone astray. If you were poor they didn’t intervene, unless you did something so gross, that it would be of interest to a large audience. Six million in the furnaces, 50 million overall, trying to hang individuals, seemed out of sync, amen.

 

When you encounter the Holy Spirit, there is no hiding place. Solomon sighed, time to admit the mistakes and hopefully learn.

Hole in the Ground…

You don’t expect me to dig that he said, His Father was pointing to the spade, hurry up. A plot had been marked out, he was being asked to dig a drain. Machinery can do that he sighed, shovel in hand, he found the spade easier to dig it, it cut through the soil easier, whatever. If he wanted to use the car, he had to dig the hole, so he saw it. Half an hour, a little progress, this is going to take an eternity, his fingers were not used to such work, they were beginning to blister, what would they be like by dinner time. He kept on checking his watch, mobile phones did not exist in those times. I could ring the landscape company ho thought, and hire one of those little machines. And his father would be off all the afternoon, he imagined the surprise on his father’s face, to see the job completed before the due time, think of the credits he’d earn.

Many years later, they gather for the anniversary celebration of his Fathers passing. He is there with his brothers and sisters, friends, they reminisces, tales are told. His wife is with him, their children too. He was always a teacher, Father, said his sister. He nods to his wife; she is after a bout of depression, she was in that state of loss for a few months, he wondered how they got through it all. Then he thought of his father, that hole in the ground, patience.

Passing on the Spirit

How can you heal inside, those resentments you told so tight inside you, they are like rocks you cling to when in doubt, well that’s something true you think. Anger, to have a good reason for it, gives you the green light to feel like you do. So you get over the anger, eventually, that rock is no longer there to cling to, there has to be something else, you start looking inside yourself, your life instead of the faults others parade before you. We spend our life seeking relief from the world, planning our next break, looking into the future, aiming at some date into the future.

She listens to the old man, he has a weather beaten face, is out in the weather a lot, but his words have a resonance. You had the freedom of the world once, there was no where you couldn’t go, and you went everywhere, then the impossible happened, you became ill, the juggernaut stopped, leaving you in the middle of nowhere, how will you cope. Clinging to anger only drains you, makes you only more resentful, especially when you are feeling the emotions.

Can’t move too freely once, you are listening now, the fast paced life no longer practical. You begin to notice the life around you. How can this man your talking with be happy you think, there are none of the signs you associate with success. Still, you are listening.

We are all Spirit he says. You look at the shine in his eyes, there is something in there. The last time you saw that expression, you were looking into the eyes of a loved one. Just passing on the Spirit he says. You thought you stopped for a coffee, but what you got, was a lesson, on how we pass on y

our Spirit, well, this old man sure did remind you of other times.

INN Keeping with the Spirit…

 

She pulls her bag, the shoppers pass by, she is not covered in smiles, quite the opposite. She wants to get home, she is safe there. Just feeling safe, there is a lot for her to worry about, her friends have gone their ways, she rarely hears from them, booze and anxiety causes separation, its’ a busy world. God will help me, she prays a lot, Her Faith is based on her deeds; she has given a lot and not asked for much in return. Her bag clinks, it’s a lonely time, she wants her time out, the past can be hard to bare. She toiled with the oppressed, gave more than most, now her Spirit weeps, she is in need of a revival.

Inn Keeping with the Spirit, sighed Solomon, and difficulty with the birth, the lack of space, the need to find a shelter, for the young life inside her to survive, or for the Spirit inside her to revive. Many stories are told, the beautiful Jesus, the wealthy visitors with the gifts for the new King, the threat against the new Spirit. There are many ways to interpret Christmas, but in keeping with the Spirit, finding a suitable space for the Spirit to revive, could be the answer to all our problems, just as the story suggests, amen.

A tribute to a long passed friend, who was there for many, but fell foul of the demons, be blessed, amen.

Dreaming Black Friday

 

books are banned, look this way, they are not us, the rules we are imbibed with, it’s as if our thoughts are decided for us, there is a sale, we all look, is there any place where we can find peace. Dreaming, what we recall, do we see the life out there, and more importantly, there is more to you than you think. As for white this and that, what is a color anyway. It’s Christmas time, the memory of the Birth of Jesus, the refugee, on the move, the local tyranny, the Roman empire, trying to impose control. Now it’s the Friday to shop your life away, the big stores prepared, the small shop a poor relation, well, they don’t sell it, but at least they are local. How we sell our lives, and our community away, to satisfy a short term need, is this what we did to the environment.

Jesus taught us, we are Gods, all of us, but you have to create space inside, a clean up in other words. Solomon was trying to get his head around this Friday thing, all those minds with bargains on the mind, what a way to treat your life. If it was pink Tuesday, well, what does it matter, amen.