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Showing posts from April, 2025

Grief

Sometimes the news comes quick. Sometimes the news comes slow. No matter how or when it comes, grief travels in the wake of the news. Grief is heavy, weighty, a burden, especially when it involves someone deeply loved. Grief is not meant to be carried alone. It’s too heavy and may last a while—and that’s ok. That’s what family and friends are for, to share the load. Jesus stood outside the tomb of his friend and wept but He did not weep alone. It was a deep, human moment. “ Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted ” (Matt 5:4). If anyone knows how we feel in grief, it’s Him. But His grief did not linger long, as at the mention of his name, Lazarus came forth. We are not meant to dwell in grief, but should leave room enough for it. Let it run its course. Like the song says, “ Every Storm Runs Out Of Rain .” Another song says, “ The storm We will dance as it breaks The storm It will give as it takes And all of our pain is washed away Don't cry or be afraid Some things...

Oh, To Be A Kid Again

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Somebody’s Home

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 Just can’t come to the door right now At the gate, but missed the gun I can't start, but I'm not done Fortune never smiled at me It left me on my own Someone cracked the hour glass Shattered time and scattered past Set in stone, you can't un-cast The die once thrown And I'm in here with the blinds all drawn I can hear you but I can't respond Though the lights are on, just don't give up 'cause somebody's home Somebody's home Your eyes betray your sympathy But your eyes can't see inside of me Maybe there's nothing to see I guess we'll never know And I'm in here with the blinds all drawn I can hear you but I can't respond Though the lights are on, just don't give up 'cause somebody's home Somebody's home All the things I never said All still here inside my head All the plans you had for me All that will never be Oh, but don't give up on me I see more than you think I see Can anyone hear me, oh? And I'm in her...

Have an Inspirational Resurrection Day!

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 One of my favorite songs, right here

“Written in Early Spring” by William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

  I HEARD a thousand blended notes   While in a grove I sate reclined,  In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts  Bring sad thoughts to the mind.  To her fair works did Nature link  The human soul that through me ran;  And much it grieved my heart to think  What Man has made of Man.  Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,  The periwinkle trail’d its wreaths;  And ’tis my faith that every flower  Enjoys the air it breathes.  The birds around me hopp’d and play’d,  Their thoughts I cannot measure,—  But the least motion which they made  It seem’d a thrill of pleasure.  The budding twigs spread out their fan  To catch the breezy air;  And I must think, do all I can,  That there was pleasure there.  If this belief from heaven be sent,  If such be Nature’s holy plan,  Have I not reason to lament  What Man has made of Man?