Cherokee Legend- told 2 ways

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. "A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy.
"It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego." He continued, "The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"
The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

Here is the same story, but it is called "Grandfather Tells" which is also known as "The Wolves Within"

An old Grandfather said to his grandson, who came to him with anger at a friend who had done him an injustice, "Let me tell you a story.
I too, at times, have felt a great hate for those that have taken so much, with no sorrow for what they do.
But hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It is like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die. I have struggled with these feelings many times." He continued, "It is as if there are two wolves inside me. One is good and does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him, and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way.
But the other wolf, ah! He is full of anger. The littlest thing will set him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change nothing.
Sometimes, it is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit."
The boy looked intently into his Grandfather's eyes and asked, "Which one wins, Grandfather?"
“The one I feed.” Replied the Grandfather.

"Go Light the World (Carry Your Candle)"

There is a candle in every soul

Some brightly burning,

some dark and cold

There is a Spirit who brings fire

Ignites a candle and makes His home

Carry your candle, run to the darkness

Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn

Hold out your candle for all to see it

Take your candle, and go light your world

Take your candle, and go light your world

Frustrated brother, see how he's tried to

Light his own candle some other way

See now your sister, she's been robbed and lied to

Still holds a candle without a flame

Carry your candle, run to the darkness

Seek out the lonely, the tired and worn

Hold out your candle for all to see it

Take your candle, and go light your world

Take your candle, and go light your world

We are a family whose hearts are blazing

So let's raise our candles and light up the sky

Praying to our Father, in the name of Jesus

Make us a beacon in darkest times

Carry your candle, run to the darkness

Seek out the helpless, deceived and poor

Hold out your candle for all to see it

Take your candle, and go light your world

Carry your candle, run to the darkness

Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn

Hold out your candle for all to see it

Take your candle, and go light your world

Take your candle, and go light your world

The flowers are blooming on my back porch.

Be careful what you wish for.................

I moved Bob and Robert out of my bedroom into the living room - in front of the sliding glass door. When I am home and weather permitting - I move them outside between the palm fronds in my overgrown garden - where they communicate directly with their free brethren - flying in for the wild bird seed.

B&R appear to really like being outside- except for a few days ago - when it was blistering hot out- they were on the bottom of the cage- wings spread and panting within 20 minutes. Oops.

But, most of the time they yell at the other birds who gather around their cage - and continue the yelling and screeching and tweeting and twerping and cooing and SCREAMING even inside.

As in, I can't hear the T.V. and Toby goes over and stares at the cage wondering 'WTH' - or whatever dogs wonder when their ear drums are being played like a crazed Tommy Lee on - well, whatever makes Tommy Lee crazy.

But, I wanted this didn't I? Yes, I did. And it's really kinda cool. Wonder what the neighbors think.

What's in my almost empty fridge:

3 Brown Russet Potatoes
5 Eggs
1/2 jar of Smuckers sugar free Boysenberry jam
1/2 pound of coffee beans

Wow. I see a pattern here.....................
If I had some bread and butter and maybe an onion - that would make a killer breakfast!

Time to go grocery shopping.

Hangin' with the mutt

Got home today from work - and for the first time in 16 years, Tobias The Mutt was not there to greet me.

He wasn't on the couch - hoggin' the remote, wasn't in the bedroom on my bed- or his - and he didn't come when I called him.

I finally found him- sitting outside on our first gloriously hot day- basking in the sun- warming up those old bones of his.

And it hit me .......I shall not be as philosophical as Shane- (in the post before this)- when Toby's walk on this earth is done.

Toby came into our family on a tremendously stormy day. My son and I drove out to Lancaster to pick him up- as a tiny puppy. He fit in the palm of my son's hand (OK, my kid has big hands, but still...) and up until the day my Mom moved in with us- he was my dog.

Then he was all hers. He went from Tobias to Toby and was Mom's constant companion.

After Mom passed away, Toby remained in her room for 2 weeks, sitting in her chair - just waiting for her to come home. I had to pick him up and carry him outside and hand feed him.

Finally, after those long weeks, he realized she wasn't going to come home, and he huffed and puffed his way down the long hallway to my room.

I could hear him coming. He leaped up on my bed- made a HUGE show of TRYING to get comfortable - and after 6 years years he's gotten there.

My children are afraid he will out live me- and one of them will have to take him in.

The meaning of Life: Dogs

Dog's Purpose (from a 6-year old).

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolf hound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.

Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, 'I know why.'

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.

He said, 'People are born so that they can learn how to live a good Life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?' The Six-year-old continued, 'Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long.'

Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly.

Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn things like: When loved ones come home, always run to greet them and never pass up the opportunity to go for a joy ride.

Happy Easter!

Off to the Pantages to see 'Mama Mia' with a good friend!

Can't wait - I've seen the movie- but, never the play!

My My! How can I resist it!

Granma's Hands - 5 generations

Look closely at this lovely photo of 5 generations of women. The baby girl's hand is touching her Great-Grandma's hand - while her Mommy's pinky touches hers - and the circle is complete- each woman touching fingertips; Sisters, Mom's and Grandma. Beautiful.
This appeals to me so much as I have always been fascinated by my daughter's hands. Strong, beautiful, talented and loving whether she's using them to tie back her daughters' hair, balancing a check book - or diving and darting them through the air as she tells a funny story - fascinating and lovley as the woman who owns them.

Grandma's Hands:

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK.
She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. 'Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,' she said in a clear strong voice.
'I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,' I explained to her.
'Have you ever looked at your hands,' she asked. 'I mean really looked at your hands?'
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.
Grandma smiled and related this story: 'Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years.
These hands, though wrinkled shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.
'They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.
'They have been dirty, scraped and raw , swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son.
Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.
'They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.
They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.
'These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home.
And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of God.'
I will never look at my hands the same again.
But I remember God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home.
When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

When my Mother passed away 6 years ago April 15th, one of the last times I touched her - was to take her wedding rings off her hand. They were her most cherished possession and I was entrusted to hold them - until my daughter takes them off mine. And my Sweet Baby Girl's beautiful hands will reach back 3 generations and wear her Gramma's rings.
Again, how lovely.

New Location for All Saints Church

Our church is moving! I found these photos on 'Joann's Blog". Joann is All Saints' priest, Father Rich's wife- and keeper of the blog news and photos and 4,672 other things church and non- church related.

I am (or was) 89 miles from the old church (a building I was never fond of- so dark in there) this one is a little farther up the road. But, I stop at my son's home and I drive up with him and his family - and anything that keeps me in close proximity to my grandkids for a longer period of time- is OK by me!

These photos are the first I have seen of our new space - and so far..........I'm loving it!

Look at all that LIGHT! So in keeping with our Bishop's teaching - this is GOOD NEWS folks! Find joy and have fun with it!

And I would add: Shed some light on it!

Palm Sunday. 2009

Matthew 21:9

Both the crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed him kept shouting, "Hosanna to the Son of David! How blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!"

To scratch or not to scratch.............

Science has come to few conclusions about the biology of itching. The itch reflex likely shares some of the same neural mechanisms and pathways as the pain reflex, but they're obviously not the same thing. A nasty cut will make you pull your hand back, while a mosquito bite provokes an itch.So why does scratching seem to help, at least temporarily? According to a 2003 New York Times piece, the general theory is that scratching provides a "counterirritation" that distracts the brain from the original itch.Others believe scratching releases pain-reducing endorphins. The pain neurons become temporarily overwhelmed, which masks the itching sensation.But anyone who's dealt with a bad batch of poison ivy knows scratching can often lead to more itching, which leads to more scratching, leading to all manner of pain, discomfort, and misery. We know this, and yet we continue to scratch because we are weak.In short -- leaves of three, let them be. Treat sun-damaged or dry skin with the appropriate ointments. Mosquito bites can be treated with topical antihistamines. And try not to scratch.

This was bugging me so I had to look it up.