I needed to hear this tonight.
Here's a beautiful tribute to Dads, to family, and to standing tall.
I needed to hear this tonight.
The article below appeared in The Epoch Times this past week. Enjoy!
You’re going through some troubles right now. You’re looking beaten down and battered. Some of my friends and family members, most of them much younger than I, are wondering whether the American Dream, which was always more about freedom than about material success, though the two go hand in hand, is coming to an end.
Below are some posts that may help keep the candle burning.
Here's an article I wrote for The Epoch Times: https://www.theepochtimes.com/grace-notes-cooperation-and-kindness_3354494.html
Please clip and paste.
Kindness, like coronavirus, is contagious.
In Memoriam: Kristine Gillet (September 9, 1952- May 17, 2004), beloved wife and mother
Tonight the moon brings back the night my nights
Alone were swept from me. Some thread of fate--
God’s hand? The wheel? The stars? A meteorite?--
That night bound you and me to us. Our freight
Of words bore weights that words were meant to bear.
Each smile conveyed a code, each coded glance
Encrypted secrets only we could share.
An angel said, “Give the guy a chance!”
A drunken sidewalk Gabriel whose arms
Gave comfort to that chill prophetic night.
He gave no hint, nor did the stars, that charms
May fade, that roses bloom but also bite.
I do not care. By moon I stay foresworn:
That night we met was worth ten thousand storms.
Not long after my wife died in 2004 at age 52, a friend walked into my bookstore, and we struck up a conversation. Nearby, my 9-year-old boy, our youngest of four children, sat reading a book. My friend and I spoke for several minutes, and then she gestured to my son.
“I guess you’ll have to be Mom and Dad to him now,” she said.
When we were driving home that evening, I asked my son if he’d overheard my friend’s comment. He nodded.
“I want you to understand something,” I said. “I can never be Mom and Dad to you. I promise you I’ll be as good a dad as I can be, but I can’t take the place of your mother. Her love for you was different than mine. Hers was a mother’s love for you. I’ll love you just the way I always have, and I’ll take care of you, but I’m your dad and I can’t replace your mom. I want you always to remember all the ways she loved you.”
Harsh? Perhaps. But I wanted the kid to know his mom was special
A great book. Some thoughts at the end about the Blitz and our pandemic.
A verse written 14 years ago. May all find shelter in this time of distress.
The mechanisms of the brain can break
When catastrophic loss pierces mind with grief;
No word nor touch may this hard cut unmake:
Grief’s dirk strikes deep, a wound beyond relief.
Some curse their lot, some weep, some pray, some mar
Their furtive sleep in hopes that carnal cures
Convince their bleeding gash to turn to scar--
All such devices trick, beguile, lure.
Now I, though lanced by grief, confess this May
Has rounded me with healing convent walls;
Here mockingbird and robin plainsongs sing;
This path is church with fragrant, blossomed halls.
When winter’s icy blade next makes me prey,
I beg, sweet Christ, to recollect this day.
An early Mother's Day greetings to all moms everywhere.