I have been waging a Sisyphean campaign to draw scrutiny to a large business deal.
One of the companies involved has clearly secular goals which are in frank opposition to the stated identity of the other.
The other bears the name of a good friend of mine. My best friend–
It troubles me that in recent years this second company seems to be more concerned with monetary transactions than honoring the name applied to its legal entity.
It is a good reminder for me–if I want to mark my life, my identity, my business, my things, with the name of my Beloved, well
I better make sure
They all really belong to Him
And we both know
He is my best friend, my boss, my king
Savior, Redeemer, Lord
God’s strong right arm.
Revelation 12:17 NIV
 Then the dragon was enraged at the woman and went off to wage war against the rest of her offspring—those who keep God’s commands and hold fast their testimony about Jesus.
Posted in child advocacy, God, maternal advocacy, real feminism |
Tagged Abortion, Catholicism, EMR, Epic, etymology, Jesus, Judy Faulkner, latin, names of Jesus, redemption, the Messiah |
The children hover above
The greenest grass
Their small, bare feet
flip back and forth rhythmically keeping them
Their father questions this decision
This ordinary use of levitation which can only be
Accomplished by the very young
But I insist I remember once being just such an unfettered soul
Defined by light
Strange how we can take words and reduce them to
shadows of their former selves
What casts a shadow
and the utter strength of light
Prayer comes from the Latin word
precarius which means, obtained by entreaty. I remember years ago looking at the way it came to us through the feudal system–subjects would pray to their lords and protectors for the things they needed to survive.
Sometimes prayer can seem less feudal than
futile. Is anyone listening? Will anyone come to save me? Those two questions can haunt the soul.
I believe in prayer. I believe it brings light and brings help.
The hardest time to tell someone to pray is when you yourself feel the most alone, the most abandoned.
God never leaves us or forsakes us.
Pray, beautiful one, pray.
The least of these in the language of childhood
Neither emperors nor governors nor bards
Gather the little ones
…least of these
Army of small
Wanderers in the world
They look for a Savior
Older Brother King
Calm the storm
Speak peace to the wind
And tell all bedtime stories
With hope at the beginning and the end
Of each hard letter
The least of these-
Roll the stone away
Jesus of Nazareth, King of the…