I'm studying Mark 9:37 this week and came across the following prayer for children. Warning I had to reach for a tissue before I finished it. The words are not my own. But I thank Author Unknown for writing them:
A Prayer for the Children
We pray for the Children
who sneak popsicles before supper,
who erase holes in math workbooks,
who can never find their shoes.
And we pray for those
who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,
who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,
who never "counted potatoes,"
who are born in places where we wouldn't be caught dead,
who never go to the circus,
who live in an X-rated world.
We pray for children
who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.
And we pray for those
who never get dessert,
who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
who watch their parents watch them die,
who can't find any bread to steal,
who don't have any rooms to clean up,
whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,
whose monsters are real.
We pray for children
who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
who like ghost stories,
who shove dirty clothes under the bed,
who never rinse out the tub,
who get visits from the tooth fairy,
who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
who squirm in church and scream in the phone,
whose tears we sometimes laugh at and whose smiles can make us cry.
And we pray for those
whose nightmares come in the daytime,
who will eat anything,
who have never seen a dentist,
who aren't spoiled by anybody,
who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
who live and move, but have no being.
We pray for children
who want to be carried and for those who must,
who we never give up on and for those who don't get a second chance.
For those we smother and...
for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.
Amen. And Amen.
With a song in my heart,
SoulSongWriter
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Pilgrimage Continues
If life has taught me anything, it has taught me that the journey is always "to be continued". It has been one year since I returned from my first week at the monastery and I still struggle with a daily disciplined prayer life. It's so easy until I get busy. The busier I am, the more I need prayer. The more I need prayer, the less I find time to pray because I'm "too busy."
Knowing what I need with my "head" is not enough, I must quest with my "heart." So I return today to Psalm 46:10 "Be still and know that I am God." And I return to the first part of the prayer equation. BE STILL!
In a little over an hour I begin coaching youth, first Middle School, then High School Youth on taking a prayer pilgrimage. I will be honest with them. I will tell them that I have difficulty with it, but I will be able to encourage them because a pilgrimage is a continuing journey.
So, over the river and through the hills, I go. Until I find a rest area along the side of the road, and then for a few minutes I remember..."BE STILL!"
hAVE A bLEST dAY!
SoulSongWriter
Knowing what I need with my "head" is not enough, I must quest with my "heart." So I return today to Psalm 46:10 "Be still and know that I am God." And I return to the first part of the prayer equation. BE STILL!
In a little over an hour I begin coaching youth, first Middle School, then High School Youth on taking a prayer pilgrimage. I will be honest with them. I will tell them that I have difficulty with it, but I will be able to encourage them because a pilgrimage is a continuing journey.
So, over the river and through the hills, I go. Until I find a rest area along the side of the road, and then for a few minutes I remember..."BE STILL!"
hAVE A bLEST dAY!
SoulSongWriter
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Home Where It's Hot, But Still Home
Back in the mountains...
The air was cool and refreshing.
The well water was cool and refreshing.
Back home the air is HOT!
The water is warm.
The land is flat.
And I wonder??????
What's it like in Afghanistan?
What's it like in Iraq?
(Talk 'bout hot, gotta be hot there!)
When will our boys and girls get to come home?
Where the air's hot, the water's warm, the land is flat?
The 4th of July is coming.
God bless those who are so far from their home!!!!
Come home!
Come home soon!
HOME WHERE IT'S HOT, BUT STILL HOME!
sOULsONGwRITER
The air was cool and refreshing.
The well water was cool and refreshing.
Back home the air is HOT!
The water is warm.
The land is flat.
And I wonder??????
What's it like in Afghanistan?
What's it like in Iraq?
(Talk 'bout hot, gotta be hot there!)
When will our boys and girls get to come home?
Where the air's hot, the water's warm, the land is flat?
The 4th of July is coming.
God bless those who are so far from their home!!!!
Come home!
Come home soon!
HOME WHERE IT'S HOT, BUT STILL HOME!
sOULsONGwRITER
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Will America Ever Harmonize Again?
Have we grown so cynical as a people that it is impossible to carry on a conversation with disagreements and remain civil to each other? Must we demonize those with whom we disagree, or risk being demonized? President Barack Obama stood before the 2009 Notre Dame graduating class and spoke of our global polarization:
"We too often seek advantage over others. We cling to outworn prejudice and fear those who are unfamiliar. Too many of us view life only through the lens of immediate self-interest and crass materialism; in which the world is necessarily a zero-sum game. The strong too often dominate the weak, and too many of those with wealth and with power find all manner of justification for their own privilege in the face of poverty and injustice. And so, for all our technology and scientific advances, we see here in this country and around the globe violence and want and strife that would seem sadly familiar to those in ancient times."
Yet the news reporters only chose to focus upon the abortion protest. In case you missed Obama's words on the issue:
"Maybe we won't agree on abortion, but we can still agree that this heart-wrenching decision for any woman is not made casually; it has both moral and spiritual dimensions. So let us work together to reduce the number of women seeking abortions; let's reduce unintended pregnancies. Let's make adoption more available. Let's provide care and support for women who do carry their children to term. Let's honor the conscience of those who disagree with abortion, and draft a sensible conscience clause ..."
Finally he spoke of humility and doubt as virtuous:
"Remember, too, that the ultimate irony of faith is that it necessarily admits doubt. It's the belief in things not seen. It's beyond our capacity as human beings to know with certainty what God has planned for us or what [God] asks of us. And those of us who believe must trust that [God's] wisdom is greater than our own.
"And this doubt should not push us away from our faith. But it should humble us. It should temper our passions, cause us to be wary of too much self-righteousness. It should compel us to remain open and curious and eager to continue the spiritual and moral debate that began for so many of you within the walls of Notre Dame. And within our vast democracy, this doubt should remind us even as we cling to our faith to persuade through reason, through an appeal whenever we can to universal rather than parochial principles, and most of all through an abiding example of good works and charity and kindness and service that moves hearts and minds."
Mr. President is calling us to sing a new song! Will we? And will we harmonize?
With a song in my heart,
SoulSongWriter
"We too often seek advantage over others. We cling to outworn prejudice and fear those who are unfamiliar. Too many of us view life only through the lens of immediate self-interest and crass materialism; in which the world is necessarily a zero-sum game. The strong too often dominate the weak, and too many of those with wealth and with power find all manner of justification for their own privilege in the face of poverty and injustice. And so, for all our technology and scientific advances, we see here in this country and around the globe violence and want and strife that would seem sadly familiar to those in ancient times."
Yet the news reporters only chose to focus upon the abortion protest. In case you missed Obama's words on the issue:
"Maybe we won't agree on abortion, but we can still agree that this heart-wrenching decision for any woman is not made casually; it has both moral and spiritual dimensions. So let us work together to reduce the number of women seeking abortions; let's reduce unintended pregnancies. Let's make adoption more available. Let's provide care and support for women who do carry their children to term. Let's honor the conscience of those who disagree with abortion, and draft a sensible conscience clause ..."
Finally he spoke of humility and doubt as virtuous:
"Remember, too, that the ultimate irony of faith is that it necessarily admits doubt. It's the belief in things not seen. It's beyond our capacity as human beings to know with certainty what God has planned for us or what [God] asks of us. And those of us who believe must trust that [God's] wisdom is greater than our own.
"And this doubt should not push us away from our faith. But it should humble us. It should temper our passions, cause us to be wary of too much self-righteousness. It should compel us to remain open and curious and eager to continue the spiritual and moral debate that began for so many of you within the walls of Notre Dame. And within our vast democracy, this doubt should remind us even as we cling to our faith to persuade through reason, through an appeal whenever we can to universal rather than parochial principles, and most of all through an abiding example of good works and charity and kindness and service that moves hearts and minds."
Mr. President is calling us to sing a new song! Will we? And will we harmonize?
With a song in my heart,
SoulSongWriter
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Easter Mini Miracle
Holy Week and Easter Sunday 2009 – now a recent passing. I experienced my Easter panic and Easter mini-miracle over the last few days. I gathered my sermon notes and Easter offerings and rushed out the door Easter morning at 6:15 a.m. I grabbed the newspaper, tossed it into the garage and hopped in my car for the one minute commute to church. Easter Sonrise Service would begin at 6:40 a.m. It was cool and misty.
Upon arrival in my office I had my Easter Offering Envelope but our check for the weekly offering was nowhere to be found. No time for thorough search it’s time for Sonrise Service, then Easter Breakfast. Back in the office, the check was missing. I walked out on the now wet and puddly parking lot. The breeze was gentle from the East, it couldn’t have gone far. My precious wife searched the counter back home where I had scooped it all up. No check.
Monday came. I walked the whole parking lot, searched the grass all along our side of the busy street. No check to be found. Now a little worried I checked my account at the bank on line. Nothing unusual there. I worked on and finished my taxes.
Tuesday came. I rechecked the kitchen counter, my office, the church side of the street, then crossed and searched the grass and ditch across the busy road. I spotted trash in the culvert, but none of it looked like a check. It was gone. Checked the account online and found it in its usual order. I thought about closing the account and opening a new one. I know, what a hassle, but what if the one who found my check was of the criminal mind. Just dry it out from the rain. Everything you need to print your own checks was there. I would lose my identity and face financial ruin. I watch the news. I know how they work.
Wednesday, still stewing over my certain disaster, I stepped out the door to go to lunch. A potato chip bag caught my eye tumbling across the church lawn. There, I haven’t looked there around those bushes. My shoes sunk into the mud. How clumsy of me I thought. What’s that on the ground on the West side of the bushes? It looks like a crumpled tissue. I walked to it. There it was, the check, all wrinkled and mud covered, but dry. A piece of trash? NO! It was my own mini Easter miracle.
I won’t be changing my account now. It is OK, I might even say it runneth over. Why, Oh Why do I worry so?
With a song in my heart,
SoulSongWriter
Upon arrival in my office I had my Easter Offering Envelope but our check for the weekly offering was nowhere to be found. No time for thorough search it’s time for Sonrise Service, then Easter Breakfast. Back in the office, the check was missing. I walked out on the now wet and puddly parking lot. The breeze was gentle from the East, it couldn’t have gone far. My precious wife searched the counter back home where I had scooped it all up. No check.
Monday came. I walked the whole parking lot, searched the grass all along our side of the busy street. No check to be found. Now a little worried I checked my account at the bank on line. Nothing unusual there. I worked on and finished my taxes.
Tuesday came. I rechecked the kitchen counter, my office, the church side of the street, then crossed and searched the grass and ditch across the busy road. I spotted trash in the culvert, but none of it looked like a check. It was gone. Checked the account online and found it in its usual order. I thought about closing the account and opening a new one. I know, what a hassle, but what if the one who found my check was of the criminal mind. Just dry it out from the rain. Everything you need to print your own checks was there. I would lose my identity and face financial ruin. I watch the news. I know how they work.
Wednesday, still stewing over my certain disaster, I stepped out the door to go to lunch. A potato chip bag caught my eye tumbling across the church lawn. There, I haven’t looked there around those bushes. My shoes sunk into the mud. How clumsy of me I thought. What’s that on the ground on the West side of the bushes? It looks like a crumpled tissue. I walked to it. There it was, the check, all wrinkled and mud covered, but dry. A piece of trash? NO! It was my own mini Easter miracle.
I won’t be changing my account now. It is OK, I might even say it runneth over. Why, Oh Why do I worry so?
With a song in my heart,
SoulSongWriter
Monday, March 9, 2009
Farewell Paul Harvey
“Stand by for Newwws! …and now for the rest of the story.” Two lines from Paul Harvey. With his death last week came a flood of nostalgia. You wouldn’t think that a bunch of high school boys were Paul Harvey fans, but that’s the way it was for our lunch hour back in 1970-71. We were Sophomores at Capitol Hill, and no one was driving yet, so we grabbed our lunch at the fast line and headed for Garnand’s house, a five block jog. Off we went – me, Garnand, Terry, and Donnie. Donnie was the biggest and we new we were safe when he was with us. The last thing you wanted was to be caught by yourself.
We escaped the campus because it was the best way to stay out of trouble. Racism and fighting were at a rampant. It was “Remember the Titans” without the victories. Our high school football team went totally defeated for five years. We made the NBC today show when our losing streak hit 45. Lunch time was a likely time for a fight or two in the cafeteria or hallway leading to it. All we wanted was to avoid getting hurt, so we did what all the sane kids did, we left the campus. We didn’t want anything to do with switchblades, chains, and tire irons – the weapons of choice in those days.
We’d get to Garnand’s unwrap our sandwiches just time to here that familiar voice, “Stand by for Newwws!” Maybe it was his voice, and the daily ritual that kept our sanity. And every day I always had the same lunch: Barbecue Sandwich (never new what the meat was / didn’t care), Fritos, and a school cafeteria cinnamon roll(the best ever!), and no-bake chocolate oatmeal cookies. Maybe it was the cinnamon roll and chocolate that got us through.
Paul Harvey kept us in touch with the quirky news. We’d here about the stupid criminal mistakes, the unsung heroes, and of course – “the rest of the story”. Then right back for afternoon class. Occasionally I would hear that voice driving across town. I’d wonder where the guys are now. I’ve lost touch with the lunch bunch gang, didn’t even see them at the 30 year class reunion. But wherever they were, I’d hope they’d hear, “Stand by for Newwws!”
Farewell Paul Harvey!
with a song in my heart,
SoulSongWriter
We escaped the campus because it was the best way to stay out of trouble. Racism and fighting were at a rampant. It was “Remember the Titans” without the victories. Our high school football team went totally defeated for five years. We made the NBC today show when our losing streak hit 45. Lunch time was a likely time for a fight or two in the cafeteria or hallway leading to it. All we wanted was to avoid getting hurt, so we did what all the sane kids did, we left the campus. We didn’t want anything to do with switchblades, chains, and tire irons – the weapons of choice in those days.
We’d get to Garnand’s unwrap our sandwiches just time to here that familiar voice, “Stand by for Newwws!” Maybe it was his voice, and the daily ritual that kept our sanity. And every day I always had the same lunch: Barbecue Sandwich (never new what the meat was / didn’t care), Fritos, and a school cafeteria cinnamon roll(the best ever!), and no-bake chocolate oatmeal cookies. Maybe it was the cinnamon roll and chocolate that got us through.
Paul Harvey kept us in touch with the quirky news. We’d here about the stupid criminal mistakes, the unsung heroes, and of course – “the rest of the story”. Then right back for afternoon class. Occasionally I would hear that voice driving across town. I’d wonder where the guys are now. I’ve lost touch with the lunch bunch gang, didn’t even see them at the 30 year class reunion. But wherever they were, I’d hope they’d hear, “Stand by for Newwws!”
Farewell Paul Harvey!
with a song in my heart,
SoulSongWriter
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Looking for the Music
Two keyboards and there they sit silent, one in my office and one at home. I've tinkered just a few times since I've come back to work. Makes last Fall all the more special. I just cannot find the time for music. I miss it, truly I do. Mayhaps a break will come.
Music is there, even new music. One of the songwriters I met in Nashville is releasing a new country album, her debut album. She has had success with others singing her songs. Sara Evans sang Saints and Angels. Jessica Simpson sang Come On Over. Now she has recorded her own. If you like country, check it out at http://www.VictoriaBanks.net She's a fresh a voice and good country music.
At least there is always time to listen to the music. The season is changing. There's more music in the air. Listen. I can listen. Even if there's not time to play. I'll listen.
With a song in my heart,
SoulSongWriter
Music is there, even new music. One of the songwriters I met in Nashville is releasing a new country album, her debut album. She has had success with others singing her songs. Sara Evans sang Saints and Angels. Jessica Simpson sang Come On Over. Now she has recorded her own. If you like country, check it out at http://www.VictoriaBanks.net She's a fresh a voice and good country music.
At least there is always time to listen to the music. The season is changing. There's more music in the air. Listen. I can listen. Even if there's not time to play. I'll listen.
With a song in my heart,
SoulSongWriter
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Did I Miss Ash Wednesday?
Somehow, someway Ash Wednesday came and went and I did not give up anything for Lent this year. Excuse #1 No one requested an Ash Wednesday Service. Excuse #2 I did not inflict an Ash Wednesday Service upon the church. Excuse #3 I did not attend an Ash Wednesday Service.
As a matter of fact, I did not see any reminders it was Ash Wednesday nor did I see anyone with ashes on their forehead until late last night, a little before 10:00 p.m. when I tuned into the OSU vs Colorado basketball game. There on the television screen was a player from Colorado with the mark of the Ashes.
Did I miss Ash Wednesday? Forgive me for I am a sinner, but truthfully, I did not experience the feeling of missing as in "missing out" on anything. I really didn't want to give up anything for Lent this particular year. The Doctor has already limited me to just one Dr. Pepper per day, and told me to limit my chocolate intake. Furthermore, he told me to buy a Nintendo Wii and the Wii Fit and get to playing it, because I might accidentally exercise in the process.
On the other hand, I would like to give up the feeling of HECTIC pace of life. I would like to find the SERENITY I found while on Sabbatical and not wait 5 years for the next Sabbatical. So I have given myself the gift of resuming the prayer schedule the Monastics gave to me last Fall. I'm positive that a dose of daily Contemplation will help me.
So, I'm going to take up a few moments of silence and solitude three times a day during Lent. I'm fine with the monastic name for these prayer times, Morning Vigil, Midday Prayer, and Evening Vespers. So if you see me walking down the street or out around the church, simply know that I'm not just walking for exercise, but I've decided to take a prayer walk.
With a song in my Heart,
SoulSongWriter
As a matter of fact, I did not see any reminders it was Ash Wednesday nor did I see anyone with ashes on their forehead until late last night, a little before 10:00 p.m. when I tuned into the OSU vs Colorado basketball game. There on the television screen was a player from Colorado with the mark of the Ashes.
Did I miss Ash Wednesday? Forgive me for I am a sinner, but truthfully, I did not experience the feeling of missing as in "missing out" on anything. I really didn't want to give up anything for Lent this particular year. The Doctor has already limited me to just one Dr. Pepper per day, and told me to limit my chocolate intake. Furthermore, he told me to buy a Nintendo Wii and the Wii Fit and get to playing it, because I might accidentally exercise in the process.
On the other hand, I would like to give up the feeling of HECTIC pace of life. I would like to find the SERENITY I found while on Sabbatical and not wait 5 years for the next Sabbatical. So I have given myself the gift of resuming the prayer schedule the Monastics gave to me last Fall. I'm positive that a dose of daily Contemplation will help me.
So, I'm going to take up a few moments of silence and solitude three times a day during Lent. I'm fine with the monastic name for these prayer times, Morning Vigil, Midday Prayer, and Evening Vespers. So if you see me walking down the street or out around the church, simply know that I'm not just walking for exercise, but I've decided to take a prayer walk.
With a song in my Heart,
SoulSongWriter
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
DOUBT?!
Doubt?!?!
In my youth I remember reading an essay suggesting a new punctuation mark, a mark that combined the “?” with the “!”. The idea struck a resonance with me as a teenager that continues to this very day for such a mark communicates for me the nature of doubt… ?!?!?!?!?!?
It brings a certain symmetry to life’s doubts?! It could even be expressed, “!?” I had not thought much about doubt until a recent movie. On a trip to the City (I doubt “Doubt” will be shown in Enid) my wife and I agreed on a very rare date at the movies. We saw “Doubt”. Here’s what the press release says about it:
DOUBT
Synopsis
John Patrick Shanley brings his play DOUBT to the screen, in a story about the quest for truth, the forces of change, and the devastating consequences of blind justice in an age defined by moral conviction.
It’s 1964, St. Nicholas in the Bronx. A vibrant, charismatic priest, Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman), is trying to upend the school’s strict customs, which have long been fiercely guarded by Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep), the iron-gloved Principal who believes in the power of fear and discipline. The winds of political change are sweeping through the community, and, indeed, the school has just accepted its first black student, Donald Miller. But when Sister James (Amy Adams), a hopeful innocent, shares with Sister Aloysius her guilt-inducing suspicion that Father Flynn is paying too much personal attention to Donald, Sister Aloysius is galvanized to begin a crusade to both unearth the truth and expunge Flynn from the school. Now, without a shred of proof or evidence except her moral certainty, Sister Aloysius locks into a battle of wills with Father Flynn, a battle that threatens to tear apart the church and school with devastating consequences.
DOUBT was written for the screen and directed by John Patrick Shanley. The film stars Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams and Viola Davis. The film is produced by Scott Rudin and Mark Roybal, with Celia Costas as Executive Producer. Director of Photography is Roger Deakins, ASC, BSC; Production Designer is David Gropman; Editor is Dylan Tichenor, ACE; Costume Designer is Ann Roth; Music is by Howard Shore; Casting is by Ellen Chenoweth; Sound Mixing is by Danny Michael, CAS, Lee Dichter, CAS and Ron Bochar, CAS; Sound Editing is by Ron Bochar.
If you are still thinking about a movie a few weeks after viewing it, I would suggest it has made an impression!?!? Such it is with “Doubt”. I joked about having my doubts when we entered the theatre. I continue to have my doubt, and always will. The only certainty I find is that life is fluid. Perhaps that’s why water is so prevalently mentioned in Scripture.
With a song in my heart,
SoulSongWriter
In my youth I remember reading an essay suggesting a new punctuation mark, a mark that combined the “?” with the “!”. The idea struck a resonance with me as a teenager that continues to this very day for such a mark communicates for me the nature of doubt… ?!?!?!?!?!?
It brings a certain symmetry to life’s doubts?! It could even be expressed, “!?” I had not thought much about doubt until a recent movie. On a trip to the City (I doubt “Doubt” will be shown in Enid) my wife and I agreed on a very rare date at the movies. We saw “Doubt”. Here’s what the press release says about it:
DOUBT
Synopsis
John Patrick Shanley brings his play DOUBT to the screen, in a story about the quest for truth, the forces of change, and the devastating consequences of blind justice in an age defined by moral conviction.
It’s 1964, St. Nicholas in the Bronx. A vibrant, charismatic priest, Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman), is trying to upend the school’s strict customs, which have long been fiercely guarded by Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep), the iron-gloved Principal who believes in the power of fear and discipline. The winds of political change are sweeping through the community, and, indeed, the school has just accepted its first black student, Donald Miller. But when Sister James (Amy Adams), a hopeful innocent, shares with Sister Aloysius her guilt-inducing suspicion that Father Flynn is paying too much personal attention to Donald, Sister Aloysius is galvanized to begin a crusade to both unearth the truth and expunge Flynn from the school. Now, without a shred of proof or evidence except her moral certainty, Sister Aloysius locks into a battle of wills with Father Flynn, a battle that threatens to tear apart the church and school with devastating consequences.
DOUBT was written for the screen and directed by John Patrick Shanley. The film stars Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams and Viola Davis. The film is produced by Scott Rudin and Mark Roybal, with Celia Costas as Executive Producer. Director of Photography is Roger Deakins, ASC, BSC; Production Designer is David Gropman; Editor is Dylan Tichenor, ACE; Costume Designer is Ann Roth; Music is by Howard Shore; Casting is by Ellen Chenoweth; Sound Mixing is by Danny Michael, CAS, Lee Dichter, CAS and Ron Bochar, CAS; Sound Editing is by Ron Bochar.
If you are still thinking about a movie a few weeks after viewing it, I would suggest it has made an impression!?!? Such it is with “Doubt”. I joked about having my doubts when we entered the theatre. I continue to have my doubt, and always will. The only certainty I find is that life is fluid. Perhaps that’s why water is so prevalently mentioned in Scripture.
With a song in my heart,
SoulSongWriter
Monday, January 5, 2009
Time Compressed
Am I the only person that feels like I must have been living in fast forward for the last month? How is it that time has become so compressed? It seems like Thanksgiving was just last week, and here we are in the New Year. No wonder I have trouble writing 2009.
A friend who has lived longer and is much wiser than me, once explained it to me this way. When you are a youngster, say aged 11, you have only experienced eleven Christmases, and most likely only remember seven of them. When you are 52, you have experienced 52 Christmases, when 76 - 76, and so on. Since you have lived through more, the perspective is different about time. The longer you live, the quicker the seasons, even years come and go.
I find a conspiracy theory much more plausible. The time has simply been stolen from me. I'd be glad to explain it more, but I'm out of time. Besides, I still have Christmas Cards to mail.
with a song in my heart,
SoulSong Writer
A friend who has lived longer and is much wiser than me, once explained it to me this way. When you are a youngster, say aged 11, you have only experienced eleven Christmases, and most likely only remember seven of them. When you are 52, you have experienced 52 Christmases, when 76 - 76, and so on. Since you have lived through more, the perspective is different about time. The longer you live, the quicker the seasons, even years come and go.
I find a conspiracy theory much more plausible. The time has simply been stolen from me. I'd be glad to explain it more, but I'm out of time. Besides, I still have Christmas Cards to mail.
with a song in my heart,
SoulSong Writer
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