Wednesday, April 15, 2020

Aborton is an essential service... Worshipping the Creator of time and space- not so much

“Here in New Mexico, you can buy all the liquor you want, this is essential and worth the risks. You can buy marijuana, this is an essential service and the risks are tolerated. But the Eucharist—the summit of our Christian life, the sacrament of our salvation—this is not worth any risk, it’s too dangerous. We take risks to buy destructive things and call it essential while denying ourselves the true medicine. The BigMac and MillerLite, essential, the Body of Christ, not so much.” https://www.firstthings.com/web-exclusives/2020/04/a-responsible-bishop



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To my friends south of the border: America will never be “great again” so long as it continues to abort a million babies every year. My country, Canada, and Europe will never know true peace again for the same reason. The entire Western World continues to spill the blood of the innocent. I have been following news headlines around the world only to find that, while churches have closed, abortion facilities have remained open because they are considered an “essential service.” Yet, almost no one, including churchmen, is saying a word.
Your abominations remain within you.
It is curious how the Western World has raced to shutter their economies and place their populations under a near police-state—all to save the most vulnerable, namely the elderly. How is it that, just a few months ago, these same nations were encouraging the euthanization of the elderly because they are a “financial burden” to the health care system?
Your abominations remain within you.

This is a snip from the Canadian musician, Mark Mallett. His writing is amazing, his music is beautiful. The grace God has shed on him is undeniable.

I have enjoyed this site for many years, you will find amazing posts 5 and 10 years ago.
Peace, love, much music, amazing insights,  heartwarming stories.

Things have changed... Times are as always, calling us..
 now I urge you to go check it out.

The Now Word. .markmallett


Stop wasting time. It may be the most precious thing you currently have in your life....


 ((really, what do you have to lose? You've clicked on silly things like the shape of your belly or animal love or your gut health or ways to make money, or ways to be safe. All I'm asking is you click on this and spend 10 minutes perusing this particular man's gift of Grace.
What do you have to lose with 10 minutes? It could mean something. ...Read the rest of my blog, would I steer you wrong?

Don't you feel there's a storm coming?


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This is how Mark Mallets post , above, began..


I HAD just sat down to write about the “refuge of our times” and began with these words:
The Great Storm like a hurricane that has spread across all of humanity will not cease until it has accomplished its end: the purification of the world. As such, just as in the times of Noah, God is providing an ark for His people to safeguard them and preserve a “remnant.” With love and urgency, I beg my readers to waste no more time and begin climbing the steps into the refuge God has provided…
At that moment, an email came in. Now, I am paying attention to these things lately because—and I’m not exaggerating—for a straight month now, the Lord is confirming everything, within seconds sometimes, of what I’m writing or even thinking. Such was the case again. The email said:
Last night, I was putting some books away, including my bible. I opened the bible to a random page in order to put a bookmark in it to use for later. As I went to close it, I suddenly stopped. I felt prompted to read something on the pages I’d opened up to. I thought I might be imagining it, but there’s no harm in reading the bible, right? So, I stared at the open pages in front of me, wondering what it was I was supposed to be reading, when a chapter title jumped out at me:


Sunday, April 12, 2020

Easter Egg Beauties

Stunning... when you're on house arrest covid-19 and you have 12 hens a laying,. ..
(but for real easter beauty, go Here...Holy-Easter-poem



































Easter... Farm...poem

Grandmother Farm poem

She saw it clearly.
Everyone walked about manifesting themselves.
The sad sinners bouncing around
Miserable and spreading
Misery

All one was able to do was walk about,
[the city was a cesspool of blindness]
 each encounter alleviate
the delusion or pain to the extent one can ease it.
that it is allowed to be eased.
like washing a cut,
like wiping a mouth
As Jesus took Pilate as far as he could go… (and Peter and John ...and Mary...)
and with Herod said nothing, 
lest it redound to herod’s greater hell 
(which herod's life created.

Who, walking about, is filled with peace and sureness, joy and grace?   

Farm Grandmother

 easter poem mtodd
Redux
http://marysbeagooddogblog.blogspot.com/2014/04/farm-grandmother.html











More pictures of Jesus


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Holy Easter Poem



A poem for Holy Saturday:


Limbo
by Sr. Mary Ada, OSJ

The ancient greyness shifted
Suddenly and thinned
Like mist upon the moors
Before the wind.
An old, old prophet lifted
A shining face and said:
“He will be coming soon.
The Son of God is dead;
He died this afternoon.”

A murmurous excitement stirred
All souls.
They wondered if they dreamed –
Save one old man who seemed
Not even to have heard.

And Moses, standing,
Hushed them all to ask
If any had a welcome song prepared.
If not, would David take the task?
And if they cared
Could not the three young children sing
The Benedicite, the canticle of praise
They made when God kept them from perishing
In the fiery blaze?

A breath of spring surprised them,
Stilling Moses’ words.
No one could speak, remembering
The first fresh flowers,
The little singing birds.
Still others thought of fields new ploughed

Or apple trees
All blossom-boughed.
Or some, the way a dried bed fills
With water
Laughing down green hills.
The fisherfolk dreamed of the foam
On bright blue seas,
The one old man who had not stirred
Remembered home.

And there He was
Splendid as the morning sun and fair
As only God is fair.
And they, confused with joy,
Knelt to adore
Seeing that He wore
Five crimson stars
He never had before.

No canticle at all was sung
None toned a psalm, or raised a greeting song.
A silent man alone
Of all that throng found tongue –
Not any other
Close to His heart.
When the embrace was done,
Old Joseph said, 
“How is Your Mother,
How is Your Mother, Son?”


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