Showing posts from November, 2011


The quivering age rings of doubt;
The fuzzy aura of social norm;
Of grandmother’s fables
On how good comes;
Of past hurts and yearnings
Wrenching head and heart
Periodically upward.
Now collect and condense into
A single point of certainty
And gladsome focus.
Christ has come.
Christ has served,
And brought the good report.
Blood and death have served their purpose.
His Father…Our Father.
Is love.
Entirely to be trusted.
And oh, how the good comes!


Lunch-Time Analysts

Sometimes the conversation gets quite animated in our Lunch Room at the factory. Today as in a couple of other occasions the subject was the current sit-down "Occupy protests" in front of the various financial centres of the Western world.

Groups of disgruntled dissidents have placed themselves in a rather poorly articulated statement against big business, big markets and insensitive government. Their posters, soap boxes and music seem to say, "Where is the little guy's break on taxes, on a decent job, on a workable chance at good education or good health care and social aid? Why should the so-called democratic process do so little to hear the voice of the masses between elections? These systems are broken! Our elected representatives have forgotten us. The real king-pins are the multi-national corporations, and they are just plain wicked!"

Although one can sympathize with their pain and perplexity, it is likely that continued stale-mate on the lawns will result …

Incredible Journey

Call her "Joyce". I met her while visiting a chapel service at the Senior's Home. Well preserved. Beautiful skin. Firm, controlled posture and movements. Standing with others in conversation after the service, smiling and apparently enjoying the day.

At one point she piped up to me, "I know Dad and the kids are really going to enjoy what I tell them about all of this."

(Dad and the kids? Am I missing something here?)

Deb, the part-time chaplain, just looked at me and shook her head. Alzheimers. Lost in the loops of the past.

"Joyce" became interested in our little Monday night reading and discussion group. I would often find her seated at table in the dining room on her floor with friend "Pauline", smoothing down the corners of a magazine, or patting her upper legs with both hands in nervous habit. But the face remained poised and youthful. "Pauline" had taken up the practice of bossing her around, but clearly enjoyed the company. Not …