Get Up!

The preacher woman has put the fear of God in them, the accusers retreat from the hall, they see the moving Spirit, they know she represents God, they all step back, their earlier enthusiasm curbed, once they encounter the power of the all mighty One True God, they had never seen the like. She calls them towards her healing hands, where she will lay them down, the crowd is excited, they have been praying, genuinely calling out loud, Save us they pray, save them she did. The newspapers across the United States were full of the wonders, a preacher woman becomes the most famous woman in America, the years, the 1920’s.

The healing Spirit, the gift she was bestowed with, was not a gift as far as the excess’s of human kind were concerned, more a hindrance, you mean they believe, what a problem they thought; she was not a member of the religious mainstream.

Many years later, Solomon hit the same sea

m, came upon the healing Spirit, had the visit of the Great Spirit, and had used it as his special surprise ever since. Seriously, did anyone think they could scheme against the Great Spirit and escape their destiny, no one did.

The old man is tired, his years are closing in, he has disappointments reminding him, there was more he could have done, he is getting the reminders of eternity, as the dots of old memory join up, why didn’t I notice he sighs, his eyes teary. The door opens, and the old sallow skin changes in color, the eyes brighten up, as love enters the room. Isn’t that so easy to do?

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Older Persons

Oh Golly, he looks at the desk, he has to get up, in his hand the calendar, how do i fit them in, it’s impossible, he wonders about it, the new year, looks at the calendar, can’t fit it in their either, when was the birthday, realizes he missed it cause he can’t even remember it, so long since they

celebrated one, oh what a chore, visiting the older ones at such a busy time of year. His Father sits by the bed, the air is sterile clean, smells hospital, instead, it’s one of those ultra clean hygiene marketed nursing homes for the very nearly fully aged, the last resting place before the big departure at they say, where you fletter your last days among the weakest, where you hear the late night screams of the tormented. His Father is close on eighty five, has been in the facility three years, two years more than expected. The financing of it, the mortgage on his sons house and the small pension he draws from his days in the public service.

It’s high maintenance, the running costs going up annually, demand for retiree spaces is huge, the elderly generation living longer, the rest of the generations only now realizing it, they will be elderly one day too, the cost of all these programs, re opening the old arguments for euthanasia.

Solomon was listening to the woes of an old friend. He didn’t want to install his Mother in an old folks home, her ability to move about severely curtailed by a degraded hip, that doctors can only treat with pain medicine. Older persons, they cost a lot to maintain, 2,000 a week, 1500 a week, depending.  Solomon listened to the figures, was shocked, it would be cheaper to stay in a good hotel. His own thoughts of retirement, whatever surprise the boss had for him, had worked for ever.

Seriously

Once upon a time there was a woman, who ability to heal outshone all the stars of the New Hollywood, remarkably, she was the worlds first female evangelist. The testimonies, readily available in the archives of all the major U.S. dailies, recall healing on a Jesus scale. Medical evidence exists, the facts are real, and this was the revival movement at it’s infancy. The belief was, that the second coming of Jesus was imminent, and a revival in faith was instituted. The temple where she held her gatherings, in Los Angeles, evidenced so much healing, it made clear the words of Jesus, i will send the Holy Spirit, he will be your helper. Less than eighty years ago, this was all going on. Famously, via the words of Augustine, it was claimed centuries before that the era of miracles and healing was over. However, having encountered Great Spirit myself, I often wondered where the Holy Spirit had gone, it has to live in the heart, how we encourage that Spirit is my favorite hobby.

In a nutshell, what we fill our heads with becomes a traffic jam as sure as junk food becomes a health problem. We might get away with it in the beginning, but it always catches up with you. On a side note, a person who claimed to know me well, claimed, he was lying of course, well I was on my way to the “office”, when he pulls up, he has the actors pose, distraught, upset, reads my concern, I listen, he adds a few tears, has a story, he needs money, he has cheated me before. Would you lend him a couple of dollars, I did. He assumes the Holy Spirit is no cheese to worry about, how will the story end?

One day is all we need, to prepare the right prayer, may God Most High in mercy, pour out the healing spirit, and fill us with the right frame of mind today and everyday. For those who want to research the evangelist mentioned above, her name is Aimee Semple Mcpherson. Her son, is Rolf Mcpherson.

Aimee Mcpherson

A woman is filled with the Spirit, an energy that comes from afar, it has the power to heal, word spreads everywhere, Her name is Sister Aimee McPherson, she lived in the early parts of the 1920’s, started the revival movement, a woman, and this at a time when women had few rights, just imagine it. They came to her in droves, they even built the great Theater in Los Angeles, what was the history of this woman, and more importantly, where did that Spirit go. If it was around once it will be around again.

Solomon was reading the story of the pioneering spirit, who filled meeting halls and temples to over flowing capacity, while delivering the healing help, what happened to this great energy. It was an insight to to today, when preachers had lost that initial zeal, tied down by too many burdening rules, as if the impressionists themselves were under threat as they painted their great masterpieces. Who was Aimee McPherson.

 

 

Is that enough!

Advice, all he heard was advice, advice, from his teachers, from his parents, just about everyone, wanted to give him advice. His parents, who argued daily, advising him, teachers who wanted to see the back of him, advising him, as if he hadn’t enough, he was getting more advice, advice on what to do, advice on how to escape, his upbringing. Had enough, he had enough, the doctor wants to put me on medication, medication, for what, for being honest. The day he tried to throw his father off the balcony, he meant it, he had enough.

Ten years later he waits for the therapist, his fourth in six months, for more advice. Waiting he picks up a magazine, the good parent guide book, he looks at it, dismiss’s it, ten years too late. His young years were lost, his parents being hippies, didn’t approve of Christmas. Imagine it, they smiling at him, their friends, discussing the great philosophers, the wisdom of old, the way Rousseau wanted children to have real life experience when young, like visiting prisons, hospitals, these things they could discuss, as for Christmas, it was a capitalist plot to relieve you of your money. That was the argument they used, we are different, we are not like the other lot. Saved them from giving up the booze or rearing us. Perhaps Rousseau might be impressed with the real education we endured. I just want to enjoy Christmas like all the other children, is that enough?.

Solomon sighed, why couldn’t all the religious tribes enjoy the season, and put the interests of their children’s future first. Allowing them to make friends was the start, is that enough.

If you take four of these a day, they should begin to affect you in about a week, if you feel squeamish that is normal, if you get sick i wouldn’t worry, but if it continues for a day or more, come see me. Same time next week smiles the doctor, I have had enough, amen.

Me

He loves himself so much he puts himself on answerphone and listens to himself, while imposing a reality on himself that is so far removed from reality to make it real, well, they say he is crazy, how about you. The sound of his own voice soothes, so he records himself all day, then late at night he replays the whole thing again. Amazingly, people donate half a weekly wage packet to hear him sing, and they do it regularly, who am I?

It was late after Christmas dinner, they had been playing charades for over an hour, and it was beginning to get to much, even for, Me. Blame the turkey me sighed, there was something strange about it. Strange, birds eat creepy crawlies, we eat birds, strange that we don’t like creepy crawlies. Solomon sighed, he was doing the thinking. Imagine it, all those angry demons, imagine all those factory reared birds, imagine the match of all matches, matching demon spirits with those about to be decapitated for our Christmas dinner, imagine that. Disposal was a problem, even in the time of Jesus, amen.

Malala~by Paul Lenzi — OUR POETRY CORNER

Malala Malala Yousafzai (For Malala Yousafzai) five times shot by medieval misogyny bullets of brittle belief aimed by ancient assassins at innocent dreams fifty million young girls take to second-class beds every third world night but this one slender flower empowered by sisterhood shared at the roots flush with uncommon courage caught […]

via Malala~by Paul Lenzi — OUR POETRY CORNER