SANDALS ON THE BEACH

Two sets of adult footprints parallel each other on the soft, sandy Hilton Head Shoreline.

Headed west, they jog together stride for stride.

is there an intended destination?

Sandal markings are known to us by the signature ECCO logo.

These markings appear daily.

Conversational sounds? None.

Who are these visitors leaving fain traces while on their timeless journey?

 

Ensuring a wordless presence can be a means of sharing with others. Perhaps silence is a

secretive repository within which are hidden personal reflections.  Every day the incoming ocean tide

overwhelms the dunes. Quietly, predictably, the swift undercurrent sweeps  the prints away and into

the waiting arms of the Atlantic Ocean.

Do they disappear forever? What specifically happens to the imprints’ sounds at the millisecond of a

moment when they are created? To what place in the great unknown are the sounds

carried by universal messengers? Perhaps audio vibrations remain captured and huddle forever in a yet undiscovered, brightly

lit corner of the universe?  

Likewise, we formulate compassionate ideas in the beachhead of our soul. energized by our deep seated desire to

help others, these concepts gradually transition from vague thoughts to unspoken plans to serve. remaining dormant inside

our minds for an undetermined gestation period, unrevealed utterances find a pathway into our consciousness. Rising from our inner

soul, a composition of thoughts is formulated into poetry which is ours to share.

Do you choose to verbalize and then implement your thoughts and ideas with others? Or are you a Silent Traveler who jogs alone

into the horizon? God gave us the capacity to formulate creative ideas which can be shared with others?

Will you share?

A Stranger in our Midst

His nervous, ill timed laughter intersperses the telling of seemingly endless stories about his personal life. Seemingly oblivious to the accepted protocol of providing others in the group an opportunity to participate in a discussion,  he carries on a personal dialogue.  Being a visitor to this circle of well learned scholars, I watch with curiosity as everyone sits patiently as the unrelenting  storyteller consistently dominates the conversation.  Out of kindness? Respect? Temerity? 

 Having a remarkable reservoir of knowledge including the capacity to quote authors, Aristotelian theories, and religious passages, time after time he astounds everyone within ear shot with the depth and breadth of information.  A nervous giggle introduces and follows each narrative.  After expounding on a topic, he immediately slinks deeply into a chair. It’s as if he wants to disappear and be one with the cushions.   The reclining does not appear to be caused by a type of apology or regret for what he said.  It’s as if his mind and body are exhausted and require rejuvenation. This cycle of scholarly lecture followed by silent pauses and retreat repeats itself throughout the evening. 

 When the “discussion” part of the evening concludes, people mill about sipping coffee and tasting  the home made  pastry of the day.  Our scholarly friend strategically positions himself on the periphery.  Quiet, subdued, he rarely engages in conversation.  This dominant participant in the structured part of the evening now retreats. Head down, feet shuffling, the attitude of now wanting to quickly leave the company of others is very apparent.  Spent and tired, now is the time exit stage left. His eyes have a distant, far away look which is perhaps the story of a man who has been in these uncomfortable circumstances before. 

 Interestingly, the group neither embraces or ignores him.  The free wheeling discussion is open to all who want to participate. There is no apparent pressure to be glib, funny, learned.  Just be a “normal” guy interacting with this  group of scholars is the low level of accepted  social expectation. Being on the outside of the sociogram  is ok.

 Leaving the group, he avoids shaking hands.   No  comments about “ see you next time”, or “ I enjoyed the evening” are forthcoming.  A quiet, unassuming exit takes place.  The obvious social omissions are noticed by others. Without comment, apparently this is the way he usually leaves the group. Down the porch steps he trundles alone into the cold, winter night. 

 Perhaps this sequence of events  is emblematic how many of us act in situations which are initially comfortable and then transition into those which make our armpits sweat.  At the conclusion of an event,  we retreat to our physical and psychological  residences where we can be alone and safe.

 This remarkable group of intellects has  created an atmosphere worthy of God’s acceptance.  Everyone, no how different from the norms of society, are welcome and accepted.  Caring and respectful, the mannerisms associated with someone whose behavior and ideologies constantly reside outside of the norm, are accepted with tender warmth.  No mockery or bullying occurs.

Character assassination is absent.

 Diversity at its best in the way God wants us to accept one another.

 

 

The Silent Leaf

 

 

 Two trees are planted in our simple yard.  They are positioned prominently as remembrances to our deceased mothers.  Knowing we are on the downside of our lives, it is hoped that these trees will display the beauty  of God for generations to come. Yes, it was our way of sharing memorials of beloved mothers.We see this as a  simple and meaningful gesture.  Plant the trees, nurture them in the early years, and nature takes over.

 For any species to survive in the Great Plains is a miracle.  For two trees to battle and endure the harsh climes is amazing. Twenty four months ago, we stared out the kitchen window admiring the latest  6” of overnight snow fall.  As always, the sturdy backyard tree survived the snow, ice, and 40 mph winds blowing south from the Canadian provinces. Mid winter and the soybean fields are now acres of dormant brown splotches. Falling burnt orange needles from the stand of  blue spruce  trees creates a protective bed for rabbits, squirrels, to hide during the arrival of inevitable  blizzards.

As usual, Mother nature awakens us from the dreaminess of  superficial  observations.  A furled, fatigued singular leaf catches our attention.  It remains attached to a narrow limb  on Grandma Gress’ otherwise barren maple tree.  Strong! The leaf hangs on with a determination reminiscent of Grandma.What is the message? Each wintry morning, steaming Colombian coffee in hand, we  gather at the window to see if our friend remains.  Yes, December, January, February it is still attached.

 What is the message? Is there a message?

We struggle to interpret what are  Grandma Gress and God saying? Is she  reminding us about her lifetime of strength, perseverance, indomitable religious faith.? She played such a major role in establishing our life values. Regrettably, on a gray  March morning we jointly notice that the leaf has disappeared. Our friend has slipped away silently into the darkness of a frigid winter night.  Sadness envelopes our hearts.  Will the leaf return?

 This winter has seen 19 days of unrelenting snow in the first 23 days of December.  Temperatures are 6 or more degrees below normal.  Snow storms seem endless.  Beautiful white mounds become a curse when we daily grit our teeth and feel the brunt of early morning arctic cold. We apprehensively part the lace curtains and check to see if the driveway and deck are again covered with more of the white fluffy stuff.  The surrounding forests and fields are again void of leaves and green color.

 God takes us by the hands and leads us to the kitchen window to enjoy the beauty of His snow covered landscape. There it is again, a singular leaf clinging onto  the same tree.  An identical twin of the furled brown leaf from 2 years ago, it beckons for our attention.  Again!Like its predecessor, this fragile gift of nature survives the impossible forces of harsh winter storms. The leaf faces us each time we look out the window.  Is it smiling at us? Is this real or a product of our imaginations? A blessing?  Fervent prayers for healing and perseverance have been heard and answered by God again and again as we have endured medical and other challenges in the 24 months since first being greeted by our leafy visitor. The leaf seems to reach out and encourages us to continue to  pray, to have faith. 

A freak of nature? Accidental, just a coincidence?  We believe those with little faith may have a difficult time explaining away this remarkable happenstance. It is time for us to pray, to listen, to meditate.  We have been blessed.  May we welcome the spirit that rides with the leaf back into our lives and tell us what is wanted.  Now is the time for us to  sacrifice.  We remain convinced that this is more than a coincidence!

Solitude – A single leaf by Christopher Flees.  Used with permission.

 

 

 

 

GOD’S COUNTRY

GOD’S COUNTRY

 

Snow covered narrow two lane roads are perilously paved where loggers once traveled.  A patch of black ice can suddenly appear .as long armed pine trees overarch the darkened pavement.  Circling, higher and higher into the mountain range we tentatively drive 25 mph. Knuckles turn white with anxiety as there are no guardrails, reflectors, painted white stripes on the shoulders.  An errant misjudgment and over the side tumbles our snow tired equipped Honda. Our onboard navigation system grapples to keep up with the intersecting roads which appear suddenly from abandoned farms/

 

Narrow glimpses of mountain peeks emerge through the ever  fogging windshield. The car’s manual promised that fogging problems had been eliminated!  So close, yet so far, we wishfully think that we are getting closer to the summit. Touchable? Not quite.. Reachable with an hour or two of cautious driving, perhaps. The V-6 engine groans from being restrained for hours. Design engineers apparently hadn’t taken formidable challenges into their calculations. The Blue Ridge Parkway is not comparable to this terrain.

 

Well, our calculations are overly optimistic.. Hours later and the snowy peaks still beckon in the distance. With the sun sliding  behind the horizon we can no longer see the snow covered highway’s shoulders.  Rest stops are not part of the landscape. Reaching the summit to see God’s grandeur on display appears within reach.  Appearances can be deceiving.  Another lesson in being patience is being learned. Around midnight we arrive safely.

.

Early morning in “God’s Country”, the  lifting  of a misty fog  valley reveals a long abandoned.  washed out logging path and tangled tree limbs suffering under the strain of wet  snow and sleet storms.  The eastern slopes are impassable. An infamous tornado ravaged the hillside in 1958.  Was it nature’s revenge for man’s   incursion to this sanctuary?  The locals believe this to be  the truth.

 

Western slopes provide a bountiful home  for wild turkey, white tailed deer, black bear dens and ever present beaver clans.  The wonderment of creation , with nature adapting, surviving, and prospering against many ever changing circumstances.

 

The Nordic  type beard glistening in the sun:, salted colored  hair blowing this way and that, the aging   patriarch smiles as he stands on the cut out power line trail in Perry County. Pondering, remembering, his memory tape replaying images of earlier times. Humming, the visitor faces southward near a beaver dam  where he bagged his 1^st antlered buck  as a peach fuzzed teenager. His blood pressure is placid as personal history reveals  a wonderful  return to life  forming  roots.  Memories of frozen faces enduring horizontally blowing snow storms,  numbing cold hands and feet in sub zero temperatures as his eyes pealed across the barren woodlot waiting for a trophy deer.  Deer camp taught him the  braggadocio  arts of talking big, learning to drink beer and play seven card stud  poker. The tail of his hunting shirt was cut off by the elders after he shot at and missed a deer in the dense brush.  How proudly the faded tartan shirt hangs on the cabin kitchen wall overlooking the poker table.

 

Abandoned, scrubby looking two story farm houses  remain.  Crippled corn cribs lean towards the mountainside showing grim evidence of forgotten prosperity. Early morning icy fog rises  from the valley floor revealing recent deer tracks. A doe and her family traveled here during the long winter night.  Sporadic yellow urine spots dot the winter snow.  Deer rubs are numerous .as rutting season has recently ended.  The herd appears to be healthy and numerous.

 

The past is sacred. Nature has her own language and traditions. We are obligated to preserve what has been given to us. Hours later,   the winter sun descends behind the skyline  as dusk approaches.  Austrian wood knobbed walking stick in hand, we track the trail as it leads downwards to the rushing brook which we located while lost many years ago.   Ice is beginning to form. Ah yes, nighttime deer beds abound. They are waiting for us intruders to exit their home turf follow and follow the stream to our cabin for a night of crackling fire and talk of family history.

 

An inspiring hike into the past is complete. A future calling, beckoning,  undiscovered.  Nature is patient, waiting for the next generation of caretakers to arrive and leave the woodland unchanged. We share her optimism that the best of the past is persevered and will be handed onto the next generation.

 

God’s Country?  Yes the locals are so right.  He has created and maintained this beautiful landscape.  Let us let nature sleep and enjoy her beauty in revered silence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WEAVING LIFE’S DECISIONS

WEAVING LIFE’S DECISIONS

 

 

Words dance off the keyboard as the writer ismesmerized  by the sounds of the Mississippi Delta.Lyrics replete  with the guttural pain of struggle, survival,and life’s ongoing tensions.This music is timeless, ageless, enveloped in a culture of plantation horrors which are only now appreciated by most everyone. The music is a gripping symphony of the struggle for human survival.

 Searching for individual peace and universal calm across time and cultures, the Blues provide an oral history of this journey common among the indentured servants of then and now.For many, today we have the free will to plan our future.Our individual journey into the future is guided by the decisions we make, one after the other. Today’s options are intertwined and dependent upon past choices.

 Life’s choices are woven together much as the artistry displayed in a tribal Isfahan carpet. Success is derived by  following the proven loom and hand design patterns which guide  the construction of the intricacies of this masterful art work. The basis for the woolen wall hanging unravels only when inferior techniques are used. The inner core weakens causing he deteriorated tapestry’s shards to gradually fall to the museum  floor. So it is with life.  Our cultures and values guide us in the decades long completion of our personal tapestry. Each of us, in the image of God, is a work of art.  We attempt to avoid a thoughtless change in our life’s journey which could unravel all that we have woven and accomplished.

Similarly, we have the power to form new life patterns while redefining ourselves.  It is possible to disregard, or at the least to modify the designs of how we have made decisions.  The roots of our comfort/discomfort, and sense of personal peace/disruption ultimately reside within us.  Unlike the helpless plantation slaves of pre- Civil war times, we have the freedom to choose many aspects of our personal journey. 

With freedom comes the twin joys of responsibility and accountability! These are two powerful, essential elements of FREE choice. Consciously deciding to be responsible and accountable for our actions enables us to weave a life of peace and calm. We choose to live up to the axiom   “we reap what we sow”.  Using our faith, much as a weaver follows a tribal tapestry pattern, we are provided with a road map for life to help us make decisions consistent with the model set by the Good Shepherd.

DON’T WORRY – BE HAPPY

 

DON’T WORRY BE HAPPY

 

 Overwrought frenzied sports fans worry to the extreme. Victory is a cause celeb. Pharmacies report that over the counter stress medications skyrocket during the World Series, NFL playoffs, Stanley Cup finals. Of course, pain inhibitors such as Johnny Walker and Jameson are likewise much in demand during these stressful times.Stomach churnings continue unabated throughout the playoffs even though the game’s final results are beyond the control of rabid, diehard fans.  Conversely, in the event of a victory, delirious city wide celebrations are seen as an entitlement and are intended to dispel any and all types of life’s worrisome concerns.

 

 Worrying can be an avoidance tactic.  It can be an attempt to avoid anticipated, potential threats from a wide horizon of concerns.  The dour, pessimistic, drum beating, bomb throwing nay sayers are experts at worrying.  Hunched shoulders, furrowed brows, shuffling sandals telegraph body language signals which saye “ I am a committed worrier”.Some see themselves as responsible to carry the weight of the world for everyone, everywhere, all the time.  No problem, issue, circumstance is too small or immense to be added to their compendium of life’s troubles.  Like beasts of burden, they diligently carry their perceived load with them 24/7.

 

 Dromedaries crisscrossing hot, moonscape like deserts from Saudi Arabia to Iraq do so with a definite purpose. They have a goal, a destination which, when reached,  ultimately relieves them of pain and discomfiture. This parallel is absent with our worrying brothers and sisters.

 

 Feel like the Scrooge of this generation? Overburdened? Underappreciated? Alone and adrift in an ocean of confusion while being fearful of what tragedy waits in the darkness of the storm to crash over our personal seawall?  There is hope.

 

 Six inches of snow cover the frozen surface of northern lakes spreading a Norman Rockwell like palette of glistening white stars. The environs are quiet, slumbering, and reflective of God’s presence. The crunch of our snow boots trekking across the tundra faintly interrupts the silence. Want to commune with the deity? This is as close as it gets.  He stands smiling, waiting directly in our path. Yes, waiting.  The silence of this holy moment turns us into intense listeners. Listening for what? Undefined, mystical, supernatural, this unexplainable symphony of silence envelops us as we hesitantly consider venturing deeper into the unknown of nature’s living room.

 

 Simultaneously a solitary, freezing black crow clutches onto the upper limb of a leafless oak which towers above us and leans forward over the lake’s embankment.  Is the crow’s presence a coincidence? Facing the shrouded winter sun the bird and tree share a life long symbiotic relationship.  They sustain each other throughout nature’s ever revolving seasons. The crow calls, pauses then listens for a reply.  Calls again, listening as his gravely voice ricochets off the frozen lake. Lift off! Acceleration occurs rapidly  over the lake. The image is  a minute black  speck flying on a frozen white canvas. This bird, with a lineage spanning generations delivers a survival message to us of eternal, continuous optimism. Are we listening or do these beckoning sounds fall to the frozen earth unheard, disregarded as we trek onward?

 

Through the crow, nature has encouraging us to reflect deeper into our inner selves.. Transparent clues show us the way to dismiss worrying and how to thrive with an air of optimism. Do we listen, in attentive silence, to the soul of God when it’s just Him and us in the wooded terrain adjoining the lake? A rare opportunity awaits us. Let us take a risk  by unburdening  our worrisome ways and let Him take our troubles. Each is resolved in His time, in His way.

 

 A magic five letter word is suspended in the cold arctic air chaffing at our exposed face – TRUST.  Do we have the courage to listen and, like the crow before us, embrace this powerful problem solving elixir?

 

 

 

 

WALK WITH THE LORD

Wikipedia says “ trust is believing the person whom you trust to do what you expect”. Such a simple sounding word –trust- only 5 letters. One syllable.

Trust is a  foundation for life which can be built in a lifetime and or destroyed in an instant.

 

Trust levels become part of our being from the moment of birth.

Some of God’s children are welcomed by their parents into this world. They are cherished, cuddled, and protected.  Trust is seen by parents as more important than material goods, money, or status.

 

Other children unfortunately are neglected.  Parent(s) see their own pleasure and/or career success as taking precedence over God’s gift . Children in some homes lie in their own waste: go hungry: and are ignored. This absence of care is the result  of parents placing a quota of conditional love on their relationship with the child. There are requirements, benchmarks, attitudes all established by the parents as conditions for the child to be loved.  How can a child trust someone who sets up rules and regulations for a parent to love them?  Essentially the parent is saying – don’t interfere with my life.  You are a nuisance.

 

Without trust there is no mutual love..  Trust is very complex.  Being comfortable to take risks with another person   is one example. .  Whether it is sharing a very personal experience, engaging in a trust fall, or risking relationships by sharing secrets which could destroy us, we are saying “ I trust and love you” when we take risks.  Our eyes meet.  We know a sense of simpatico is present. 

 

Similarly, we avoid sharing and being candid with others  when our trust -o- meter’s gauge points to  empty. The warning light on the dashboard is  blinking. A feeling of unease permeates these situations.  How will the other person react to what we are going to say?   Or what will they do with the information we are sharing? Eye contact is avoided. Perhaps our stomach churns with palms sweating. Our  reactions are circumspect, nervous, untrusting. 

 

When the ill winds of lack of trust blows in our face, we have an opportunity to change a relationship.  By enabling God to talk WITH  us about our need to be  honest, compassionate and a committed listener, we can take the 1^st steps to gently, and candidly construct a communications bridge.  Have you crossed  the Tappen Zee bridge?

 

The inclination to walk away, shut the door on others, or engage in “fight or flight” can  be self destructive.  Nothing is gained. Additionally, our compatriot probably also knows we aren’t a trusting person.  Knowing that we paint him into a defensive corner, the conversations are superficial or of little value. 

 

Who reaches out and extends the metaphorical hand of compromise?  The person who initiates rapprochement is the stronger.  Walking across the bridge is more difficult than sullenly sitting on the beach waiting for the tide to change. Will you be the negotiator or the pacifist?

 

Learning to recognize  our internal capacity to trust and to love is a lifelong journey. A walk which is  filled with colorful  sunsets.. Thunderclouds and the fog of misunderstandings may envelop and confuse us as well. A significant part of this challenging adventure is about taking the risk to open our outstretched palms  to trustingly invite others to find out who we really are.

 

Sharing how we truthfully feel about a person or situation can be a difficult climb up the mountainside. Journey’s accompanied by a friend are safer than being alone on the ice covered south wall of a cragged mountain.  Handing each other ropes, pick axes, words of encouragement help us get to the summit.  Take the risk of letting the Lord lead you.  Permit Him to take you by the hand as you look into the eyes of the person you want to trust.  Silently pray for the capacity to trust and love.   Remember – two are better than one.  This methodology is effective with one caveat – you must Trust and Love the Lord.

 

 

 

THE THIRD DIMENSION

THE THIRD  DIMENSION

 

 

 

Nike walking shoes carry the urban trekker from prairie grass

Into the edges of the emerging woodlot.

The paranormal  combination of hardwoods, evergreens and palms

again amazes and confuses him..  as does much of mystical nature.

 

In this recent pre dusk  walk  the diamond shaped sun spots dance off the

leaves of tiny red maple trees.  The tree lot light is a psychedelic combination

of yellow and peach. This eerie third dimensional presence remains.

He cautiously, warily keeps his eyes peeled skyward and tip toes ahead.

 

Stomach churning in anticipation,  beads of newly created sweat on his brow,

he slowly steps  forward, one cautious step at a time.

Local thrushes in residence chirp  knowingly with each other.

 

Is this woodlot  a world unto its self? A result of the original creation?

 

The light briefly appears from the north.  Not east or west? The  north?

Has the earth deviated from its axis?  Wrens  swirl about disoriented, confused.

Some flying into the trunks of trees and then dropping to the forest floor.

Yet our traveler is at peace.  A calmness  mystically envelopes his inner self.

Beads of sweat on his brow dry and disappear. Worries quietly

exit from his psyche.

 

What is this power that effects birds and animals but not our human friend?

Are we indeed one with nature?  What if that is no longer true?

Mind stretching – this questions a basic tenant of life on earth.

 

What if there are multiple creators?  What if our ecosystems are both interdependent and independent?  What if humans are not the superior beings on earth? Who else roams this planet?

 

The questions give him pause. Peering into the mirror of creation is good for the soul. Or so he hopes.

 

The light follows then leads our intrepid hiker.  Where will it take him?

Is there another strange ecosystem broaching the swamp we are approaching?

Is this a voluntary walk?  An act of free will?

 

Furtively searching for a known frame of reference he wonders if the northern light is real. Perhaps it is  a creation the harried and disillusioned mind.

A dream facing us when we are awake? A dream to be deciphered.

 

The temptation to explain away the phenomena as imaginary,

Illusionary, or the product of derangement  overcome our determination to block out all thought and conjecture. When we quantitatively  evaluate forces of creation which are outside our established tradition, beliefs and cultures we are forced to examine ourselves in a new

light.  Is this  illusionary? 

 

Thoughts, ideas, concepts cling to our psyche forever.  They

are  part of our eternal being.  Be courageous, take the risk,  permit

the  light in the forest to lead you to the heretofore  unknown world

of  the third dimension.

 

God is the great I Am.  Be not afraid.

 

 

 

 

 

THANK YOU LORD FOR OUR CHILDREN

 

Parenting is the alpha and omega: the beginning and the end,

the giver and receiver of life’s most precious gifts.

Our adult children are our children for as long as we live.

We are granted time  on this earth to  share the joy of  their  becoming their own persons.

 

Our children have  patiently waited for us to accept whom they have become:

to see the world through their  eyes,  accept their lifestyles.  For many

decades they have endured the sometime insurmountable challenges

we have put in their paths  to tolerate who we are, what we

believe, how we worship, where we decide to live.

Now it is their time.

 

The clock on the wall inexorably moves forward.

 

Roles are reversed.  Our children are now  the givers of life.

They lovingly grant us permission to share their  life as the curtain begins to close on

ours.  Enthusiastically, they share who they are and where life is taking

them.  Tenderly, and without words, a message of love is transmitted between parent

and child.  W e are asked  to believe in them, applaud

their successes, and to accept who they are. To join in prayer. They reach out, hug us, say

“ I love you” .  Looking into their eyes, we see the wonderful gift that God has created.

Who knows when the next time is our last good bye?

 

Yes, it is our time to listen.

May we thank the Lord for having the privilege to be parents. May HE carry our

children in His arms until the end of time.

 

HELPING OTHERS IN 2013

HELPING OTHERS IN 2013

Self centered, self rewarding, self promotion ..etc..

Several phrases to describe that most concentric of end of year

Activities – The New Years Resolution.

We all know the drill:

Lose weight,

Go to the gym regularly,

Get to work on time

Each and everyone is a worthwhile goal… and resolutions that we take seriously.

These goals are in concert with our New Year’s parties – designed to make us feel

good.

We are celebrating the coming of another change in the calendar.

The uplifting spirit that comes with our success at attaining our goals is both

temporary and thin as a colorless veneer.

Why?

Two reasons – 1^st the goals are  designed to give us self satisfaction : good idea –

but self satisfaction is only temporary – we buy a new car – then find we want a

replacement..  when the glass is full we seek

another source of joy and satisfaction…  always moving on …

A spiritually based Christian  axiom is that we gain more benefit when we provide

love and care to others than to ourselves.  For example, our inner satisfaction is a

deep, quiet reward when we see the sense of hope we have helped to create in the

eyes of a needy, lost person.  Without any thought of

personal reward we have helped a brother .

This unselfish act creates  ever growing compound interest in our own inner soul –

and like Mother Theresa – we help whom ever is in need without regard to those

with business or political connections who may pay us back for our kindness.

Yes, let’s make resolutions for 2013.  Resolutions to give of our time and talents to

help others before paying attention to ourselves.

God Bless!