Totus Tuus, Maria.

themorningstars: Am I the only one who finds this business about how you shouldn’t give money to...

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 00:26:13 -0400

Am I the only one who finds this business about how you shouldn’t give money to beggars on the street because “they’ll just spend it on alcohol, you aren’t really helping them” kind of…patronizing?

I just don’t understand why it’s okay to turn a person into a statistic, to reduce him to a generalization about a population that he is a part of. Could he spend the money on alcohol? Sure, he could. But I’m wary of refusing to trust him with my money because of the things he could do with it. I don’t know him. I don’t know his story. He isn’t just “homeless,” anymore than I am just “someone with a home.” He is many, many things, and the only thing I really know when I see him on the street is that he’s asking for help, and when someone asks me for help, I’m inclined to give it.

I’m all for handing out food and “blessing bags” and all that good stuff, but I’m wary of handing those things out specifically because you’ve made the snap judgment that this person cannot be trusted with money. Are you sure that you are really so much more trustworthy and responsible? I’m just saying.

Photo

Thu, 18 Apr 2013 04:36:18 -0400

5 Things We Were Tricked Into Believing by Marketing Campaigns

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 03:50:00 -0400

from this Cracked article by Auriane Desombre & Eddie Rodriguez.

5 things (some not that harmful, some really freaking harmful) that we take for granted that we were manipulated into doing so that we’d be willing to give some companies our money.

The list:

Body odor is bad! Deodorant is necessary.
“The concept of using chemicals to plug up your armpit’s sweat-holes goes all the way back to … the early 20th century. That’s it.

Before that, shockingly, sweating was considered simply a thing that humans did. Sure, it could be inconvenient — on a hot day, women wore dress shields to sop up all the nastiness oozing from their pores and protect their clothing, while men simply wrung out their undershirts once in a while — but it wasn’t something that people really gave much thought to. …

Apparently, selling her new wonder product wasn’t her strong suit, either, because Murphey immediately ran into a serious roadblock — people had no idea why they were supposed to want something that stopped them from sweating. Like if they came out with a product today that slowed how fast your fingernails grew, the big reaction would be “Uh, is this really a problem that needs to be solved?”

(Note that this product was invented by a woman; greed is greed wherever it is.)
Genital herpes! (Well, not the disease, but the self-hating stigma behind it, even though they are essentially the same as oral cold sores.)
“Well, the disease has been around for freaking ever — 2,000 years, if we’re going by the first time someone scratched his balls and then decided to make note of it on official record — but the thing is that herpes, both oral and genital, was never really seen as anything more than a sore in an inconvenient place, no more embarrassing than a zit. Herpes was so insignificant that common medical textbooks of the day didn’t even mention it.

But then Burroughs Wellcome had a bright idea for how to market their drug for a disease nobody had heard of or cared about: They launched an ad campaign educating people about the difference between a normal cold sore and a “stigmatized genital infection,” which would make others treat you as if you had come down with a case of radioactive crotch.”
Shaving legs and armpits (of course)
“These advertisements didn’t explain why women should remove hair, they just offered them a product for doing so, therefore suggesting that a market for said product already existed. And women snapped that stuff up like candy — abrasive, irritating, skin-raking candy. Of course, one need only consider that most women to this day use much of the time spent scraping the flesh off of their legs actively cursing the fact that such a market exists to see that those old-timey advertisers were full of shit.”
Father’s Day
“It’s true that when a Spokane, Washington, woman named Sonora Dodd came up with Father’s Day back in 1908, she might have had good intentions. But her method of spreading the holiday was to go around to local merchants and get them to start setting up “Father’s Day” window displays promoting your typical manly staples such as neckties, hats, socks, and rye whiskey (probably). By 1921, the florists were on board.”
Grammatical rules for the word “like”
“”Winston tastes good like a cigarette should.” Notice anything wrong with that? Well, people in 1954 sure did, and they threw an absolute shit fit about it.

Newspapers condemned Winston’s slogan, The New Yorker published a poem deriding it, and Walter Cronkite refused to read it on the air. Not because he’d be promoting rolled-up lung rot, but because the slogan used the word “like” instead of “as.” …

But Winston didn’t give a shit about their grammar, or about the public outcry, or about a cranky Cronkite. They gave a shit about sales, and in that respect, their advertisements worked like a charm. The more people complained, the more Winston ran the ads, and the more people saw the ads and talked about them, the more they wanted those sweet, sweet Winston cancer sticks. Winston even put out playful commercials poking fun at the grammar controversy.

As for the word “like,” it also became more popular. And yeah, it continued to piss off English teachers everywhere. But the biggest slap in the face to stuffy grammarians came in 1961, when Merriam-Webster changed the definition of “like” to also make it a conjunction, and cited Winston’s usage in their reasoning.”

Obviously not all of these are bad; Father’s Day can be meaningful for many people and language/grammar often changes overtime for many different reasons.

Some can be very harmful, however (e.g., all the stigmas in #1-3), and as a general rule of thumb I just like to at least be AWARE when someone is doing something solely for the purpose of trying to get me to unnecessarily give them my money. lol.

interesting comments about interfaith couples

Sat, 13 Apr 2013 02:09:00 -0400

a comment from this article by Simcha Fischer; bolded some thought-provoking parts:

Like AC I did not marry the love of my life because of doctrinal differences, but in my case the reverse was true. He was Catholic I was (and am) not. And my perspective runs deeper that that; I am the product of an inter-faith (not merely inter-denominational) marriage. So I have a multi-generational perspective on how this works out. I know what it’s like to get confirmed when your own mother isn’t even baptized. I know what it’s like to face the question that your mother is one of the most moral, scrupulous and sacrificial people you know, she believes in God, and yet she doesn’t acknowledge Christ’s sacrifice. If she died, would she go to heaven? Yeah. I know a lot about interfaith marriages. I know how my parents made it work, and my dad loved my mom into getting baptized; and I know pretty precisely what my relationship with aforementioned Catholic would have needed to work.

Interdenominational and interfaith marriages are difficult for three reasons: the doctrinal, the cultural, and human sin.

1) Doctrinally, there isn’t much that can be done, especially with respect to the kids. In the church or out; say the creed, or don’t. The lines are clear. Salvation or at least a long purgatorial stint is at stake. Doctrinally aware adults all know it. Kid’s will figure it out. Navigating a home life where the kids say harsh (but often innocent) things to the out-side parent is going to be tough. It can be done, but it’s going to take a lot of emotional accommodation from the parent who has picked the church. And here is where the effects of doctrinal disagreement which cannot be ignored, can be mitigated.

If the Catholic parent insists on raising the kids Catholic (as they should), he/she is going to have to remember that the non-Catholic parent has started by making a huge emotional sacrifice. They may see no way around it, but this is still probably not their vision; it requires the sacrifice of part of their dreams to get the rest. If the Catholic parent wants to make the doctrine palatable, they have to be recognize that the non-Catholic has started by sacrificing and treat that sacrifice with the gratitude it deserves. Instead, the Catholics regard all of the mandatory church rules as their due. Since they can’t compromise, the other party needs to give in a hundred percent. Then they will compromise or negotiate on the optional. The attitude lacks generosity. It fails to take into account that your non-Catholic lover sees this as you doing what feels right to you, and never thinking about them. The Catholic needs to recognize that the non-Catholic’s sacrifices for the relationship are real, and possibly more deeply felt than they can imagine. You also might remember that you are getting the Eucharist and they aren’t. (To make this work, the Catholic party needs to be as generous as possible about anything non-negotiable. You got the most important thing.)

Which brings us to the cultural differences.

2) One can’t maneuver in the realm of doctrine; there is space in the cultural zone. And Catholics, unfortunately, are way worse in this area than the Protestants. Partly, this is because Catholics know that culture matters and that just because something isn’t strictly a sin doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. But, in the effort to create a “Catholic culture” the Protestant is constantly defined as “other.” Pious Catholic practices are defended as law when they are quite negotiable. Charity is totally lacking, and that whole Paul-ine thing about “weak consciences”? Yes, it explains a lot about Protestant attitudes toward the Blessed Virgin.

Catholics don’t try to figure out what within Protestant praxis animates the Protestant. They don’t try to incorporate that into a healthy broadening of Catholic culture. There were so, so many times that I thought—if I were a Polish Catholic with my traditions and he were an Irish Catholic with his, he would respect them. But since I’m a German Lutheran, he’s not even paying attention. Learn the hymns. Start a bible study. Drop the rosary. (These are just ideas and I actually like the rosary.) Try to live as a Protestant for just one week. (Starting after you complete your Sunday obligation, of course.) Figure the culture out by trying to live it, without your preferences for a day or two. Then, maybe, you can explain what your practices add. That’s what the two successful Lutheran-Catholic couples I know did.

3) Human sin. Catholics need to remember that even if the Catholic in the relationship has never once sniped at Protestants, or made broad generalizing statements about Protestants that are 90% untrue and totally inapplicable to individual situation, or made jokes about Protestants—some other Catholic has. Probably in the last week. The vast majority of Catholics have 0 ecumenical interest in Protestants, will blame the Protestant if there is friction in your relationship, and have a large stock of stereotypes about Protestants they have no real desire to unlearn. Such is life. The Church is big. I get that. But if the Catholic in the relationship doesn’t have the spine to occasionally confront those people (who are often priests), the non-Catholic will go through life feeling disrespected and marginal. This is hardest part.

Remember, no priest has probably ever asked your non-Catholic girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse if they needed anything or wanted an explanation. No Catholic has probably ever even acknowledged that they might have needs not being met by the Catholic practices that surrounds them. Remember that Protestant, non-Christian, and atheist are sometimes used interchangeably by Catholics—to faithful non-Catholic Christians, this hurts. Your non-Catholic spouse/significant other may be learning to regard the Catholic church as lots of meaningless rules designed to build up Catholic-identity. These are realities. You could be the person to break down those misconceptions (and this goes for all Catholics who are on friendly terms with a Protestant), but you have put yourself in the Protestant shoes first.

If you are in an inter-denominational marriage (or marriage headed relationship), it means you loved and respected someone enough to marry them. It doesn’t mean you pitied them. It doesn’t mean you condescended. The Catholic needs to remember that, and stand up for it. And remind the non-Catholic of that.

There were so, so many times my father had to stand up for my mother growing up. So many terrible things that otherwise sweet ladies at my church said, so many thoughtless things that pastors said, forgetting that not everyone present was in “the club.” She’s probably a Christian today because my father daily loved her, and sought to understand and explain, but never justified the clannishness of our church or his own (occasional) selfishness.

But the Catholic man who said he wanted to marry me didn’t have that kind of strength. I agreed to the Catholic wedding, raising the kids Catholic, working to put him through graduate school, NFP—everything. But after that, he decided that I wasn’t worth it, because I had failed to convert, which would make his life difficult. And one particularly bad day I dissolved into tears over something terrible someone else had said, and he said “I don’t have to put up with this.”

So that’s how an inter-faith marriage succeeded (three kids, all extremely devout Christians), and an inter-denominational marriage didn’t.

Inter-denominational marriages succeed when the other person is loved as a unique child of God, whom the Catholic would not exchange or part with for the world. And they fail when the non-Catholic is regarded as a lesser, but possibly reformable being, whose differences are a burden.

One of the comments

Sat, 30 Mar 2013 12:16:00 -0400

from that article.

I’m a rape victim. I work on trying to forgive my attacker (he’s been in prison for 14 years and will remain there for at least 11 more) and I’m not there yet. Thank God for Pope Francis and for all of the others who minister to prisoners; they’re doing what I cannot do myself. When Jesus said to visit the imprisoned, I’m sure he didn’t mean only the unjustly imprisoned, or the victims of circumstance, or the political prisoners. I’m pretty sure he meant all of them, even the worst criminals. Pray for the man who attacked me, and for all violent criminals. I try to pray for them myself, but the “prayer” turns into thoughts that I don’t need to have. Thanks for posting this.

And another one.

I lived a protected life. My parents were good, upstanding people. The worst abusers that have impacted my family, were all the victims of rape. These poor women struggle in their own private hell because of it, and this affected everyone around them. The poor wretches that abused them were like lightening rods for hell. I don’t lose hope about it though. Love is stronger than death, and it will prevail over the hell that we create on this earth. I too tremble when I consider what the gospel says: “to those whom have been given much, much is expected.” At the end, we will all have to give an accounting. We may be surprised over how our sins (“thank you God, that I am not like that sinner over there…”), and the sins of an abused criminal (“remember me Lord, when you come into your kingdom”)all stack up in the final “wash”.

You know who's going to juvenile prison?

Sat, 30 Mar 2013 12:10:00 -0400

Trent Mays and Ma’lik Richmond, the boys who repeatedly raped and degraded an unconscious girl in Steubenville last summer.

Unclean, by Simcha Fischer:

I spent a good part of yesterday reading up on this case, trying to wrap my mind around how the world must look to these teenage boys. I tried to imagine what it would do to a person to grow up without strong, caring parents — to come of age in an atmosphere where nobody tells you how to behave, where no one teaches courtesy or responsibility, and where everyone celebrates your strength and power, so that you feel like you can do no wrong. I wasn’t trying to make excuses for them; I was just trying to get a foothold in the point of view of a couple of boys who figured the coach would take care of it, whatever they did.

Nope, I couldn’t do it. I was sorry they didn’t have strong dads, or whatever. I was sorry they didn’t go to catechism, like my kids do. But I just kept coming back to the idea that they must have known that what they were doing was wrong. They must have known. They did know. They are responsible for their behavior. There is no excuse.

I still think this. But, seeing the photo above, I had to ask myself: what about the teenagers whose feet the pope will wash? Will they be specially chosen because they are … what, only half bad? Misunderstood rascals? Basically good kids who got mixed up with the wrong crowd? Maybe. But maybe — even likely — they were serving time because they had done something just as unthinkably, disgustingly wrong as Trent Mays and Ma’lik Richmond. They were in juvie, not prison, only because of their age. And the pope would be there, washing their feet.

I hadn’t thought about this. Definitely changes things.

Pushing Catholics Out the Door

Wed, 27 Mar 2013 14:59:41 -0400

Pushing Catholics Out the Door:

themorningstars:

crusadermaximus:

becket:

Yesterday became a big red battleground full of equal signs and crosses. I wasn’t a fan.

At the end of the day, it is not a matter of who can win an argument. It is about who cares that there are gay Catholics out there seeing what you are posting on Facebook and everywhere else, and they feel like all you are doing is telling them they’re not welcome in our Church. At all. And, if you’re not posting your clever quotes and creative memes for them, then what are you posting them for? Just to congratulate yourself for being right? And if you are posting for those that disagree with you, then ask yourself, is it honestly going to help them, or just remind them that you still think there is an us and a them?

(Click the link above to read the whole article)

Thought provoking read from the ever insightful Becket

Please read this.

“Right now, all I can think of is my friend who wanted to try and become Catholic again by Easter, but when Holy Week came, he feels like the Catholics from our parish came and pushed him back out the door. If he decides that’s where he is going to stay, that would make him a sheep separated from the flock. The question is, when you find him, are you going to be a shepherd or a wolf?”

imperfectwriting: norwegianblues: THE most underrated scene...

Sun, 17 Mar 2013 10:39:37 -0400

imperfectwriting:

norwegianblues:

THE most underrated scene in the entire movie. It was perfect. And do you know how often I see gif sets of it? This is the second one I’ve seen since the movie came out (It’s been over 5 months, now).

So let’s just pause for a moment from reblogging gifs of Tony’s sass, Loki’s sex appeal, or Bruce’s fluffiness and just appreciate this nameless, old, German guy and how, even though he knew he would probably die, he stood up to a tyrant to prove that the human race wouldn’t give up their freedom so easily.

Friendly reminder that it’s implied that he’s a Holocaust survivor.

victoryofjustice: theartofdisputatio: theartofdisputatio: r...

Sun, 17 Mar 2013 10:39:17 -0400

victoryofjustice:

theartofdisputatio:

theartofdisputatio:

rivercityirish:

Liam O Maonlai

Liam O’Maonlai “An raibh tú ar an gCarraig” (Were you at the rock). An old Irish Catholic persecution song. A Bhríd, scaoil tharam do bhrat.

Hauntingly, achingly beautiful.

I like to play this every so often. Reminds me not to take anything for granted.

This speaks to my soul.

"I remember a morning about 15 years ago. It was a particularly bad morning, after a particularly bad..."

Fri, 31 Aug 2012 14:14:55 -0400

“

I remember a morning about 15 years ago. It was a particularly bad morning, after a particularly bad night. We – my wife and I – had been caught in one of those cyclical rows that reignite every time you think they’ve come to an exhausted close, because the thing that’s wrong won’t be left alone, won’t stay out of sight if you try to turn away from it. Over and over, between midnight and six, when we finally gave up and got up, we’d helplessly looped from tears, and the aftermath of tears, back into scratch-your-eyes-out, scratch-each-other’s-skin-off quarrelling. Intimacy had turned toxic: we knew, as we went around and around it, almost exactly what the other one was going to say, and even what they were going to think, and it only made things worse. It felt as if we were reduced – but truthfully reduced, reduced in accordance with the truth of the situation – to a pair of intermeshing routines, cogs with sharp teeth turning each other. We got up, and she went to work. I went to a café and nursed my misery along with a cappuccino. I could not see any way out of sorrow that did not involve some obvious self-deception, some wishful lie about where we’d got to. And then the person serving in the café put on a cassette: Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto, the middle movement, the adagio.

If you don’t know it, it is a very patient piece of music. It too goes round and round, in its way, essentially playing the same tune again and again, on the clarinet alone and then with the orchestra, clarinet and then orchestra, lifting up the same unhurried lilt of solitary sound, and then backing it with a kind of messageless tenderness in deep waves, when the strings join in. It is not strained in any way. It does not sound as if the music is struggling to lift a weight it can only just manage. Yet at the same time, it is not music that denies anything. It offers a strong, absolutely calm rejoicing, but it does not pretend there is no sorrow. On the contrary, it sounds as if it comes from a world where sorrow is perfectly ordinary, but still there is more to be said.

I had heard it lots of times, but this time it felt to me like news. It said: everything you fear is true. And yet. And yet. Everything you have done wrong, you have really done wrong. And yet. And yet. The world is wider than you fear it is, wider than the repeating rigmaroles in your mind, and it has this in it, as truly as it contains your unhappiness. Shut up and listen, and let yourself count, just a little bit, on a calm that you do not have to be able to make for yourself, because here it is, freely offered. There is more going on here than what you deserve, or don’t deserve. There is this as well. And it played the tune again, with all the cares in the world.

”

- Francis Spufford, from this article in the Guardian this morning. (via featherfall)

"Eternity, eternity, when shall I come to you at last? … in eternity where we will love with a glance..."

Sat, 18 Aug 2012 10:28:16 -0400

“Eternity, eternity, when shall I come to you at last? … in eternity where we will love with a glance of the soul.”

- Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton (via fathershane)

Photo

Thu, 09 Aug 2012 23:05:10 -0400

blacksheepboy-: Okpo Land Okpo City, South Korea The park...

Thu, 09 Aug 2012 01:10:57 -0400

blacksheepboy-:

Okpo Land

Okpo City, South Korea

The park was shut down in 1999 due to many mysterious fatal accidents in the park. The last fatal accident that occurred before the park was shut down was when a young girl tragically fell to her death on one of the rides in the park. Immediately following the accident, the owner of the park disappeared and was never heard from again. Even though the park is extremely creepy and has an unsettling back-story, it doesn’t stop adventurers from exploring and venturing through the park.

zackisontumblr: I know somebody that is affected by this...

Fri, 27 Jul 2012 00:32:24 -0400

zackisontumblr:

I know somebody that is affected by this terrible event. If you could please reblog that’d be nice. Thanks :}

deliciouskaek: cactustreemotel: schmullesschweitzer: soycrates...

Wed, 25 Jul 2012 17:52:49 -0400

deliciouskaek:

cactustreemotel:

schmullesschweitzer:

soycrates:

itsokayimanihilist:

this game is bullshit, you have to go through a tutorial until level 18, and your stats start to go down after level 30 not to mention the romance mini-game is hard as fuck

THIS.

The whole “Eat”, “Sleep”, “Drink”, and “Happiness” meters make the game pretty difficult. I still haven’t figured out how the last one works. And there’s no online walkthrough for it. I even tried to mod my game, but it didn’t work!

boring as fuck and the PvP usually just gets you long ass respawn penalties or even banned

There are a lot of players complaining about the random stat generator. Saying some people start off with higher stats and are more privileged.
Not so sure bout that myself though, considering that my entire party started the game with low constitution, money, and intelligence. We’re all overpowered now.

Just gotta keep on grinding.

I find that ridiculous, frankly. The rinsing doesn’t get you anywhere in this game. Your character can’t play the “job” mini game without prior experience unlocking it first. But that’s the only way you can get the experience achievement!

What the fuck were the developers thinking when they made this game, I mean, nobody’s even heard from the developers, a lot of the time I doubt they even exist and this game was just a freak accident of nature.

Some of the skills are disproportionately easier to acquire than others. My character is at least like, level 100 in their “blogging” skill, but “social interaction”, which it seems like most of the fucking game revolves around, is at 2.

There’s also a glitch in my copy, I think, where my character always needs to use the rest(room) shrine. It could just be all the energy potions I need to take to get a temporary boost on my social interaction skill, but still.

And it’s only high res if your character started off with the 20/20 starter pack or has bought the lenses expansion pack.

(Also, the “no monthly fee” is a lie, most features are pay to play after you get over levels 14-16, and some of those features are needed to keep your character account from deactivating)

Also the in-game store is expensive as hell

I love everything about this place.

All of these points are valid, really, and I’m having a lot of the same problems. Which I bet wouldn’t happen if the rules didn’t change on me all the damn time, or were actually the same for everyone. :/

Anyway, question for other users: I’m having some sort of additional problem where my character can’t communicate without the use of moving images. Also, I seem to be stuck in some sort of loop in which she stares at a rectangular window for many game hours while laughing, raging, or weeping interchangeably, usually without warning, and seemingly uncontrollably.

I think it’s some kind of virus. How to get tech support?

cleverwittystatement: chocolatfonce: an0m0ly: Damage This is...

Wed, 25 Jul 2012 02:16:19 -0400

cleverwittystatement:

chocolatfonce:

an0m0ly:

Damage

This is not my usual post. But it’s something I had to share. As you read this, imagine how your reaction would differ if this story were being told by a woman, talking about how her husband treated her.

I have been separated from my wife for over a year, though we continue to share a house. We live on separate floors. We share the house because we need to parent our son together, and because we can’t afford to maintain two households.

I’d like to tell you a story, illustrating one reason why I am divorcing her. This is an example of the treatment I have received over the past fourteen years.

This evening, while she was drinking her wine, my estranged wife took exception to the fact that I wanted to talk about how tense she’s been. She said she didn’t want to talk about it.

I left the room (so as to comply with her request).

I went upstairs to use our tiny guest bathroom. She began to yell and throw things around the kitchen, then eventually charged up the stairs and into the bathroom, just as I was finishing and getting ready to leave. She confronted me there, holding her half-full wine glass in her hand. Her voice got louder, her gestures wilder.

She complained that I had upset her by wanting to talk when she had told me she didn’t want to talk. As I began to feel uncomfortable, I said, “You’re saying it’s my fault you can’t express your emotions responsibly like an adult?”

She said, “Yes!! It’s because you want to go off and take a vacation with your girlfriend!” Then she threw the contents of her glass in my face and smashed it against my bare chest.

The results are pictured here.

I stood there, with shattered glass at my feet, glass shards sticking in my skin, bleeding, for five minutes or so. I asked her to move so that I could leave. She waved the broken stem of the glass in the air and said, “Leave!! Who’s stopping you?”

I told her she was standing between me and the door. I felt threatened.

She laughed and said, “You’re 6 foot 3 and 250 pounds! You can’t feel threatened by me!”

I said, “You just broke a glass on my chest and cut me. You’re standing there with the stem in your hands. Yes. I feel threatened.”

She said, “No, you don’t.”

I asked her to move out of the way and let me pass. I didn’t want her to think I was pushing her or threatening her.

She held her ground, waved the broken stem and shouted, “Go on! Leave! I’m not stopping you!”

After I asked her repeatedly, she finally moved a bit and I left, carefully stepping over the broken glass.

I have posted this here as evidence, and to help those who may think that size and gender make a difference when abuse is concerned. People who, like my estranged, think some have permission to feel threatened and some don’t.

Abusers come in all sizes and genders.

She and I went to a half dozen therapists over the years. At each initial session, every therapist took a look at me, then at her (5’4” 150 lbs.). Then he or she would gravely ask my wife, “Do you feel safe?”

None ever thought to ask me.

Thanks for listening.

Reblogging again.

Always reblog

diligere: The devil prowled and he won this timetook a child within that was minetook him to a...

Wed, 11 Jul 2012 05:02:30 -0400

diligere:

The devil prowled and he won this time
took a child within that was mine
took him to a place cold and dark to lie still
and in his ear whispered away his will

He said, “This blood you’re bleeding, you bleed it alone,
this fight you’re fighting, you’re on your own.
There ain’t no Road, there ain’t no Race,
there ain’t no Faith and there ain’t no Grace.”

The devil gaped and swallowed him whole
Swirling in his stomach was my glimmering soul
He licked his lips, made sure none was left
around the dust from my feet he then carefully crept

He prowled one step swollen with me inside
Walked like an expecting shotgun bride
‘Till he saw a Man who stood in his way
And with arms outstretched He began to say,
“You will not leave with him today.”

The devil bared his teeth, but he drew back, afraid
And clutched the soul that within his belly laid
I stirred within, no longer still
The devil’s dinner had found some will

The Man drew a nail and pinned him down,
Cut me open and with the sound
Of a newborn cry, I was torn free
Covered in the blood of One who died for me

The Man drew me up and raised me high
And said, “Father, your children need not die;
I will lay my body down, and be raised that all might live
I will show them Your love, Abba, love I freely give.”

A light shone down, and the Man drew a smile.
He said, “I know He’s pleased. You’ve been waiting a while.
You’ve been through a lot, but a lot’s already through.
So just let me know if he ever comes back, I’ll come back for you.”

- JSJ

Photo

Fri, 06 Jul 2012 15:47:34 -0400

Photo

Fri, 06 Jul 2012 02:54:55 -0400

Photo

Mon, 02 Jul 2012 01:12:47 -0400