Thursday, October 25, 2007

LIKE LAMBS TO THE SLAUGHTER


People are being led like sheep, to work more and more, to keep chasing material goods, and thereby enslaving themselves while their children suffer. Perhaps these natural disasters, and financial ones like the housing bust can somehow be turned into something good if they make people wake up to what is important and what is prudent.

Has anyone been to these psychiatric/therapy practices that work with children and adolescents? They are the most congested, busiest places on Earth.The misery is palpable. I had to visit one the other day for other reasons, and after surveying the overly-packed waiting room, I couldn't help but wonder how children have gotten so screwed up! For so many of them, their existence is punctuated by regular visits to psychiatrists for psychotropic medicine and therapists who are anything but therapeutic. The parents look frazzled and depressed. This is all so disgusting! How did this happen to us?

Sometimes I just want to go into the middle of the street and scream!! How dumb do people have to be to not know that a mother at home, a father who shepherds his family, kids who are disciplined but also allowed to run and play in the sunshine, and a family that honors God is the antidote to most of society's problems today??!!

I pray to God that the prices of these houses do come down so that young couples can afford to buy a house without having to sacrifice their family life. I really think that young adults are more ready to embrace a traditional lifestyle than most of the people in my age group, otherwise known as the nut jobs who currently run the world.

May God in His mercy, bring us back to sane living.

Sunday, October 21, 2007


Brief season of light
Flesh on the bones
You promise a bounty
great journeys and home

Though longitude set
Our latitude wide
Our courses we set
yet, ruled by the tide.

Float on into life
owning the world
then owned by the strife
life's insults be hurled.

Blinded by pain
yet wisdom can laugh
she elevates sorrow
then cuts it in half.

That other shoe
It will drop, be assured
laugh on while you can
and breathe the bright world.



One night I dreamed I was in a cave.
It was damp and smelled of wet stone.
I was just inside its opening, and outside, I saw
A cove and beach that was just before day.

I walked through the cave door and into early morning,
I could smell the ocean, hear the waves lapping
All very tranquil, all very serene.
No cars or jet noise or beach goers there.

Every cell in my body absorbed what I sensed
It was all such peace, then to the edge of my ear
a new sound came, not out of place, yet
quite surprising. Cloppety-clippity-clop, I turned

at the sound of a large horse pulling a wagon
down a gently sloping hill on a road I hadn't seen.
Being driven by a wide, muscled farm man.
He was smiling with suspenders and straw hat just right.

I looked down, and the road was cobblestone
Why was I new here, yet very much at home?
I followed this road which led from the beach
over a tiny bridge and into the town.

The town unfolded as Sun rose with dawn
Two young women in dresses homespun
shared pink looks, giggles suppressed
as two young men hovered round them like bees.





Well, I reasoned, I am not at the mall, as I noticed
girls' crisp, white caps, coiled hair, all demure.
The boys' broad fall pants and brown woolen jackets
And all around, the lack of buzz and modern sounds.

A non-electric world, but bright, face-to-face.
I wondered not where I was but when.
Then turning around, I was a child again, standing
in the house of my caregiver, my wizened old aunt.

She shooed me out the door, with knowing, twinkling
eyes.
"Now walk carefully through those city streets: she said
"And have lots of fun at school", wink, wink, oh, yes
I see. But now, the streets are gritty, worn, traffic-dense.

I scamper down them, skipping along with other children now.
We turn a noisy corner to find we have stepped into a cave
damp with spring water, smelling of stone.
My child-heart, the portal, into the bright world.