Category Archives: Uncategorized

Let it Be Done

As we celebrate the Feast of the Annunciation today, I recall making my first profession on this date many years ago. Thankful for my Benedictine Roots, and the many things they taught me. Many friends have posted beautiful classic artworks on the Annunciation, but I am especially enthralled with Children’s books. Julie Vivas’ illustrations to “The Nativity” are beyond exquisite!

and while I’m being a bit contrary, Chris Muglia’s song “Let it be done.” is so rich.

I think there are so many times in my own life, I have NO CLUE what God is doing. I can be frustrated and disappointed and cry, or freeze and break down, or be angry and stubborn. But my best bet is to take a deep sigh and say to God , “Let it be done.” however, that is not a “One and Done” either….. it is something we (I) must say over and over throughout our lives. I just pray that I may have the grace of God to listen, and be open to the message…. .even when it is not what I want to hear.


Mother….never forget you….. and Taco Salad

Today is a lovely day and the first day of Spring. And on this Friday evening in 1992 Mother slipped into the arms of her loving Savior. I have many friends who are celebrating the recent loss of loved ones. I empathize with you this day, and always as I feel the pain of not having Mom nearby. This year has been rather strange, as it matched up with the exact days of the week, so I have been recalling the whole last week of her life clearly. It always struck me so profoundly that my Sisters in Sacred Heart Monastery were celebrating the First Vespers for Benedict’s death, as family was with Mom.

Wednesday, Mass at SFC was offered for Mother and her Mother, whose Anniversary was also this week. The first reading was so powerful from Isaiah that day :
But Zion said, “The LORD has forsaken me;
my Lord has forgotten me.”
Can a mother forget her infant,
be without tenderness for the child of her womb?
Even should she forget,
I will never forget you.

Thank You Mother. I love you. Miss you.

Jill Maria Murdy's photo.
The same day,  my old friend Teresa Baxter sent me her recipe cards of Mother’s taco salad ( that I wrote out for her as a kid)

More John 3:16

This morning’s Gospel John 3: 14-21 has that infamous quote that we’ve been seeing at every major televised event since the 1970’s …… John 3: 16 “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”

While I’ve never been one to do that (I’d have to go to a sports event first, and they don’t look kindly on these signs at broadway shows and classical concerts) God and I have a longstanding joke, or affinity around this.

For many years now, at 3:16 AM or PM, I usually get some little jolt calling me to prayer. It might be waking in the night and needing to walk to the little room down the hall, or my cat waking up, and looking at the clock and seeing 3:16.

Similarly I may be driving or in a meeting, or any number of things, and all the sudden I glance at the clock, and there it is again, that 3: 16. Usually I smile and muse, and at least acknowledge God, or take a bit longer for prayer.

On stressful days, or in the midst of a confrontation, I’ve seen those numbers and realized “You are with me…. you have it all in control.” On the days I miss it, and glance down at 3:17 or 3:19, I feel like I have missed an important part of my day.

Of course I am not the only one who holds a claim to these times. The ancient monks prayed seven times a day. Perhaps this is my way of keeping one of the Little Hours. Those with a special devotion to Faustina often pray the 3:00 prayer.

The point is, we can pray anywhere, any time…. and don’t have to search to hard for inspiration. God is with us and ever so close!

Jill Maria Murdy's photo.

You Are Dust

Yesterday I played for three Ash Wednesday Services. Sometimes when you are so very close to the liturgy, you can get caught in the mechanics and logistics of making sure everything is set out correct and you didn’t forget anything; hoping the cantor gets it, having to pitch in for the sacristan who couldn’t make it, hoping the adjustment the sound crew made on the mics was correct, wondering why the numbers of people are different than last year, thinking about how much there is to do between Lent and Easter…. ya da yad…..

I have to say I was blessed with two moments of grace yesterday. During the evening liturgy, during the distribution of ashes, there was a minister very near the piano. We were doing Rory Cooney ‘s “Hold Us in Your Mercy: Penitential Litany” which is so perfect for that time. But instead of just hearing the two part call /response between the cantor/congregation, I heard it as a four part canon, as I could continually hear the woman distributing ashes saying “Remember, you are dust and to dust you shall return” and the “Amens.” It was such a rich cacophony of sound…… and a full blessing. Sometimes, hearing the minister can be distracting while playing, but this time I was able to fully enter into it.

Then when I got home from my long day, a young parent contacted me. Her son was so very excited that we had done one of my songs that day, and told his mom “Did you know Jill Maria Murdy WROTE it?” It was just such a sweet and gentle moment….and it revived my drooping spirits.

Winter blasts, earth cold and dormant,

Seeds lie planted deep within

Slowly life begins her myst’ry

Healing stillness, cleansing sin

Teach us how to wait in patience,

Trusting in your constant love,

We like wheat, once sown in darkness

Bursting through to light above.

Fearful still, we find resistance,

Stubbornly we won’t let go

Holding burdens ever closely,

Doubting we can ever grow

Coax us gently, draw us nearer

That we may be born again

Finding joy, eternal richness

Rising from the single grain.


If You Wish, You Can Make Me Clean

A leper came to Jesus and kneeling down begged him and said,
“If you wish, you can make me clean.”
Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand,
touched him, and said to him,
“I do will it. Be made clean.”

Sometimes when we hear things like today’s scriptures, which tell the OT story of the leper shouting “Unclean” and the Gospel story where Jesus heals the leper, it is easy to blow them off as something that happened a long time ago. I recently heard someone say “We need to update the bible so that people understand it.” Yet those stories are ever true today.

Who is it that we avoid like the leper or the plague? Do we turn our heads away from the homeless one on the street, or the obese man, or the woman with Down’s Syndrome? Do we steer clear of the person who obviously has some mental health issues? Or just the person who annoys the heck out of us? (For me, when I find myself shunning or avoiding someone, or passing judgement, it usually means there is something about them that I see in me and it bothers me. So when I want to turn away is really when I should go forward and embrace them.)

Or, how many of us are like the leper in dialogue with Jesus. Maybe we don’t have the “scab or pustule or blotch of leprosy” but if we are honest with ourselves, we all have something that we long to be freed from.. that we long to be made clean.

There are many demons. Every day on the news we hear of the growing heroin epidemic, depression and anxiety abound, many struggle with cancer or terrible illness, others with the memories of abuse, or the memory of something that they have done and they cannot forgive themselves. Others struggle to get out of debt, or to overcome other stigma and handicaps.

But if you go back to the story of the leper, there are a couple key things to note. We can’t just wish for our problems to go away and magically kick our heels. First, we have to name the issue. The leper goes to Jesus and begs for healing. The person with a tumor must go to the doctor and present them with all relevant facts. The one approaching a 12 step program has to admit they are powerless, veritably screaming out “I can’t do this on my own, I need help.” To do any of these things is humbling. It means naming a part of self that we may prefer to keep hidden, or that we’d prefer to be like an ostrich about, burying our own heads in the sand.

Then, there is another thing. Healing in the scriptures always require an action! Jesus says “Go show yourselves to the priests” later on in this scripture passage.

The person on a diet needs to change their thinking and their lifestyle about food and exercise. Messy house woman may need to just buckle down and clean, or know when it is time to ask help beyond that, and call in a professional organizer or or a friend to help pitch.

The woman with cancer needs to have the surgery, and follow through with the treatments. The one with health issues must take their medications and follow instructions. The man burdened by his infidelity may need to seek a clergy person or a counselor so that he does not become frozen in a place and a pattern for ever.

Lastly, I don’t think we can ever predict the timing or the outcome. For one person, a medication may take care of an issue. For another, alcohol may always prove to be a temptation….. this taking care of self is usually an ongoing process. And in some cases, like the story of Jesus with Mary and Martha at the death of Lazarus, there was simply nothing he could do. The man was already dead. Hard things happen. Bad things happen. But Jesus doesn’t offer some overworn platitude. He simple offers the gift of presence to the two, He is with them, and he weeps.

So often when one is sick or hurting that is all we can do. Shed a tear, share a mug of coffee…. give the precious gift of time.

I remember when Mother was dying, many would say “If there is anything you need let us know.” and they were sincere in there words, but they just didn’t know how to help or what to say. (I know I have been in that same quandry so many times I can’t even recall, as I’ve blurted out that or something similar….) But the thing I remember something else too…. the woman who just came to the house and made Mom a cup of coffee, and then went and got the vacuum out, and didn’t listen to any protests. She just did what needed being done.

As many approach Lent it may be a time to ask? What do I want to change? How do I need to be healed? How can I do this? BLess you, and may you have the courage to cry out for what you need!.

Corpus Christi

downloadCorpus Christi, the Body and Blood of Christ…. I love these Summer Solemnities, like today and last week’s Holy Trinity. For these liturgies, I always like to bring in a good dose of traditional hymnody, as well as balance it with some of the the newer compositions. So of course there was a bit of “Panis Angelicus” and “At that First Eucharist” Sometimes, when you are at four masses or five masses on a weekend, it is hard to stay to stay present and focused, but I really loved every one of the celebrations this weekend. It is so rich to sing, to play, to pray, to focus on the readings, and the Eucharist, the Body and Blood of Christ.

But how lovely to remember the koinonia, as we become the Body of Christ together. As I looked out I could see the woman who just lost her Dad this week, and the couple who had a baby on Monday and brought it to church today. While playing Tom Porters “Let Us Be Bread” I was mindful of Tom, and my many friends in North Dakota and Montana. As we sang “We Come to Your Feast” I was hearing some of Jan Michael Joncas‘s words anew, and finding the wisdom of a dear friend.

Tonight’s liturgy with the band we started with “One Bread, One Cup” and I was praying for Bobby Fisher who is recovering from a health procedure this week.

But there are also moments of humor sometimes. As we sang “Eat This Bread” I recall one summer at Notre Dame, when I was cantoring for the liturgy. I was a bit nervous, and grabbed the “people’s” book instead o a cantor book. So I started well but when I looked down to see the verses, they weren’t there! I did the first one from memory. The second one I sort of mix two together. Up in the loft, you could see Andrew McShane lifting up on the organ bench and looking in his mirror, wondering what I was up to.

We moved into the next verse, and I totally made it up. At this point, Andy realizes what is happening. I come up with one more on the spot, and he realizes, “danger, danger” so after the next refrain, he revs up the stops and takes it away on the organ. I was feeling badly about the whole thing, until after mass, when a couple people approach me, saying “Where did you get those additional verses? My parish does the same ones all the time.” God is good…. and a bit funny. I recalled so many school friends as I sang that hymn.

So tonight, on one of the hymns, I am concentrating pretty hard on the piano, and not singing . I wasn’t following the lyrics as closely as I usually do. I had no intentions of being irreverent or anything else, but I would swear I heard something about “One Body and Crust” instead of “Christ…” All I could think of, was, “yes, that is part of the loaf too, and there are certainly some folks we deal with that are a bit crusty, and I’ve been known to be a bit flaky myself.” In that nano second, my mind had flipped away from the liturgy, and then it came right back, and I was once again grateful to be part of the Body, and the many and different individuals who make it up.

I have another friend who speaks of “Big E’s and Little E’s” meaning Eucharistic moments, and eucharistic moments. I am so very touched by all of you who bring me to Christ…. in the liturgy, or over a cup of coffee, making music with friends, or hanging round a campfire. Those who teach us by example how to serve, and those who call me out of complacency and help me be a better person in spite of myself.

How Dry I Am

Ecclesiastes 1: 9 reminds us “There is nothing new under the sun”

I had to laugh at this in morning’s Mass which I planned 2nd communion was “We are Many Parts” Key of F (So So Do Re Mi) and two minutes later we did the closing hymn, “Take Up Your Cross” (WALY WALY) Key of G also (So Do Re Mi)

Translation for you non musical types: “The last two songs we sang at church today both began with the tune of “How Dry I AM” (Which is actually Irving Berlin Song and it is not about a bathroom door!)

But then upon further research, I found out it is a Methodist hymn called O Happy Day, That Fixed My Choice

“Do You Love Me” From Fiddler on Roof and one from West Side Story take the same intervals but manipulate the Rhythm ( Which Carey Landry then copies pretty much note for note for his OCP song “When You Seek Me” It is also the reggae song  “By the Rivers of Babylon”

Then I was on to classical tunes and the lively spot about 5 minutes into the 1812 overture is the first thing that comes to mind.
You know with so few notes in the western world, it is delightful and wonderful how they all interact, and can be used and tweaked and borrowed.

Well, anyways I’m not sure exactly what it is I’m coming home singing…

God bless you all this beautiful day!!!!

Ecclesiastes and the Lion King





Perhaps it sounds like a joke to start out a post with “What do sacred scripture and “The Lion King”have in common?”  but there really is an answer, and  a good reason for this post.  Well, at least I’d like to think so.   You could some it up by saying  “Turn, turn, turn”  or   “The Circle of Life.”

Let me explain further.

Many of us don’t know a lot of scripture.   But many others don’t know the scripture that they  DO know.  For example, if I said, “Can you quote me the third chapter of Ecclesiastes?”  you will probably respond “Can I whoee the whatza?”   or  “Sorry, I have no clue.” But if I flip on the 1965 hit “Turn, Turn, Turn” by the Byrds, chances are you will be able to sing it almost word for word.

This text is taken almost word for word from scriptures.     Here is the citation from the New American Bible.

There is an appointed time for everything,

and a time for every affair under the heavens.

A time to give birth, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to tear down, and a time to build.

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance.

A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them;

a time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces.

A time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to cast away.

A time to rend, and a time to sew;

a time to be silent, and a time to speak.

A time to love, and a time to hate;

a time of war, and a time of peace.


Because of the association with the song, many pastors shy away from it, and yet, this is a very universal scripture. It fits most of life’s situations one way or another, yet remains very personal, and helps one gain a healthy perspective on much of life.   I have seen it used at times of great joy, or people cling to it at times of sorrow.     For many it is a passage of strength.

I loved the movie version of  “the Lion King” to be sure, and was known to sing “Hakuna Mattata” etc.  In fact, back in the monastery, one of the Sisters lovingly called me “Pumba” But one of the most powerful experiences I have ever had in my life was the opening scene to the Broadway version of the Lion King.    I am sure that I was so moved, so happy, that I could have left at that point without even seeing the rest of the show.    The music and symbolism and everything converged in an extremely powerful manner.


Here are the lyrics   (Melody Elton John – Lyrics  Tim Rice)

From the day we arrive on the planet

And blinking, step into the sun

There’s more to see than can ever be seen

More to do than can ever be done


 There’s far too much to take in here

More to find than can ever be found

But the sun rolling high

Through the sapphire sky

Keeps great and small on the endless round


It’s the Circle of Life

And it moves us all

Through despair and hope

Through faith and love

Till we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the Circle

The Circle of Life


It’s the Circle of Life

And it moves us all

Through despair and hope

Through faith and love

Till we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the Circle

The Circle of Life


I know that in comparing and contrasting these two I’m not in original territory, as others have remarked on the similarities.    However what I AM aware of is just how much I’ve been experiencing that circle, that turning in my own life, and in the lives of those who are around me.

Within one twenty four hour period this week, I saw or heard about the following:

Experienced the much anticipated meeting of a friend’s young grandchild

Prayed for two people began radiation or chemotherapy for cancer

Heard a beautiful young woman began a new ministry as cantor

Watched a woman found the inner strength and self worth to leave an abusive relationship

Sobbed when the nineteen year old son of someone I went to college with was killed in a farm accident

Rejoiced as a cousin gave birth to beautiful twins

I was just struck yet again by how many events go on around us all the time, and how rapidly life moves and changes.  The circle goes awfully fast sometimes and once more, it is bigger than me and beyond my understanding.   It reminded me of one of my favorite quotes by T.S. Elliot “We had the experience but missed the meaning. ”      Don’t miss the meanings of the moments in your life.   Sometimes we have to live, and just figure it out all later along the way.




The passage is taken from Eliot’s  “The Four Quartets”    #3  “The Dry Salvages”

I’m adding it to the post for your perusal.


I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river

Is a strong brown god – sullen, untamed and intractable,

Patient to some degree, at first recognized as a frontier;

Useful, untrustworthy, as a conveyer of commerce;

Then only a problem confronting the builder of bridges.

The problem once solved, the brown god is almost forgotten

By the dwellers in cities – ever, however, implacable,

Keeping his seasons and rages, destroyer, reminder

Of what men choose to forget. Unhonoured, unpropitiated

By worshippers of the machine, but waiting, watching and waiting.

His rhythm was present in the nursery bedroom,

In the rank ailanthus of the April dooryard,

In the smell of grapes on the autumn table,

And the evening circle in the winter gaslight.


The river is within us, the sea is all about us;

The sea is the land’s edge also, the granite

Into which it reaches, the beaches where it tosses

Its hints of earlier and other creation:

The starfish, the horseshoe crab, the whale’s backbone;

The pools where it offers to our curiosity

The more delicate algae and the sea anemone.

It tosses up our losses, the torn seine,

The shattered lobsterpot, the broken oar

And the gear of foreign dead men. The sea has many voices,

Many gods and many voices.

The salt is on the briar rose,

The fog is in the fir trees.

The sea howl

And the sea yelp, are different voices

Often together heard: the whine in the rigging,

The menace and caress of wave that breaks on water,

The distant rote in the granite teeth,

And the wailing warning from the approaching headland

Are all sea voices, and the heaving groaner

Rounded homewards, and the seagull:

And under the oppression of the silent fog

The tolling bell

Measures time not our time, rung by the unhurried

Ground swell, a time

Older than the time of chronometers, older

Than time counted by anxious worried women

Lying awake, calculating the future,

Trying to unweave, unwind, unravel

And piece together the past and the future,

Between midnight and dawn, when the past is all deception,

The future futureless, before the morning watch

When time stops and time is never ending;

And the ground swell, that is and was from the beginning,


The bell.





Where is there an end to it, the soundless wailing,

The silent withering of autumn flowers

Dropping their petals and remaining motionless;

Where is there an end to the drifting wreckage,

The prayer of the bone on the beach, the unprayable

Prayer at the calamitous annunciation?


There is no end, but addition: the trailing

Consequence of further days and hours,

While emotion takes to itself the emotionless

Years of living among the breakage

Of what was believed in as the most reliable –

And therefore the fittest for renunciation.


There is the final addition, the failing

Pride or resentment at failing powers,

The unattached devotion which might pass for devotionless,

In a drifting boat with a slow leakage,

The silent listening to the undeniable

Clamour of the bell of the last annunciation.


Where is the end of them, the fishermen sailing

Into the wind’s tail, where the fog cowers?

We cannot think of a time that is oceanless

Or of an ocean not littered with wastage

Or of a future that is not liable

Like the past, to have no destination.


We have to think of them as forever bailing,

Setting and hauling, while the North East lowers

Over shallow banks unchanging and erosionless

Or drawing their money, drying sails at dockage;

Not as making a trip that will be unpayable

For a haul that will not bear examination.


There is no end of it, the voiceless wailing,

No end to the withering of withered flowers,

To the movement of pain that is painless and motionless,

To the drift of the sea and the drifting wreckage,

The bone’s prayer to Death its God. Only the hardly, barely prayable

Prayer of the one Annunciation.


It seems, as one becomes older,

That the past has another pattern, and ceases to be a mere sequence –

Or even development: the latter a partial fallacy

Encouraged by superficial notions of evolution,

Which becomes, in the popular mind, a means of disowning the past.

The moments of happiness – not the sense of well-being,

Fruition, fulfilment, security or affection,

Or even a very good dinner, but the sudden illumination –

We had the experience but missed the meaning,   (Emphasis Mine  JMM)

And approach to the meaning restores the experience

In a different form, beyond any meaning

We can assign to happiness. I have said before

That the past experience revived in the meaning

Is not the experience of one life only

But of many generations – not forgetting

Something that is probably quite ineffable:

The backward look behind the assurance

Of recorded history, the backward half-look

Over the shoulder, towards the primitive terror.

Now, we come to discover that the moments of agony

(Whether, or not, due to misunderstanding,

Having hopes for the wrong things or dreaded the wrong things,

Is not the question) are likewise permanent

With such permanence as time has. We appreciate this better

In the agony of others, nearly experienced,

Involving ourselves, than in our own.

For our own past is covered by the currents of action,

But the torment of others remains an experience

Unqualified, unworn by subsequent attrition.

People change, and smile: but the agony abides.

Time the destroyer is time the preserver,

Like the river with its cargo of dead negroes, cows and chicken coops,

The bitter apple and the bite in the apple.

And the ragged rock in the restless waters,

Waves wash over it, fogs conceal it;

On a halcyon day it is merely a monument,

In navigable weather it is always a seamark

To lay a course by: but in the sombre season

Or the sudden fury; is what it always was.





I sometimes wonder if that is what Krishna meant –

Among other things – or one way of putting the same thing:

That the future is a faded song, a Royal Rose or a lavender spray

Of wistful regret for those who are not yet here to regret,

Pressed between yellow leaves of a book that has never been opened.

And the way up is the way down, the way forward is the way back.

You cannot face it steadily, but this thing is sure,

That time is no healer: the patient is no longer here.

When the train starts, and the passengers are settled

To fruit, periodicals and business letters

(And those who saw them off have left the platform)

Their faces relax from grief into relief,

To the sleepy rhythm of a hundred hours.

Fare forward, travelers! not escaping from the past

Into different lives, or into any future;

You are not the same people who left the station

Or who will arrive at any terminus,

While the narrowing rails slide together behind you;

And on the deck of the drumming liner

Watching the furrow that widens behind you,

You shall not think ‘the past is finished”

Or ‘the future is before us”

At nightfall, in the rigging and the aerial

Is a voice descanting (though not to the ear,

The murmuring shell of time, and not in any language)

””””””””””””””””Fare forward, you who think that you are voyaging;

You are not those who saw the harbour

Receding, or those who will disembark,

Here between the hither and the farther shore

While time is withdrawn, consider the future

And the past with an equal mind.

At the moment which is not of action or inaction

You can receive this: “on whatever sphere of being

The mind of man may be intent

At the time of death” – that is the one action

(And the time of death is every moment)

Which shall fructify in the lives of others:

And do not think of the fruit of action.

Fare forward.

O voyagers, O seamen,

You who come to port, and you whose bodies

Will suffer the trial and judgement of the sea,

Or whatever event, this is your real destination.”””””””””

So Krishna, as when he admonished Arjuna

On the field of battle.

Not fare well,

But fare forward, voyagers.





Lady, whose shrine stands on the promontory,

Pray for all those who are in ships, those

Whose business has to do with fish, and

Those concerned with every lawful traffic

And those who conduct them.


Repeat a prayer also on behalf of

Women who have seen their sons or husbands

Setting forth, and not returning:

Figlia del tuo figlio,

Queen of Heaven.


Also pray for those who were in ships, and

Ended their voyage on the sand, in the sea’s lips

Or in the dath throat which will not reject them

Or wherever cannot reach them the sound of the sea bell’s

Perpetual angelus.


To communicate with Mars, converse with spirits,

To report the behaviour of the sea monster,

Describe the horoscope, haruspicate or scry,

Observe disease in signatures, evoke

Biography from the wrinkles of the palm

And tragedy from fingers; release omens

By sortilege, or tea leaves, riddle the inevitable

With playing cards, fiddle with pentagrams

Or barbituric acids, or dissect

The recurrent image into pre-conscious terrors –

To explore the womb, or tomb, or dreams; all these are usual

Pastimes and drugs, and features of the press:

And always will be, some of them especially

When there is distress of nations and perplexity

Whether on the shores of Asia, or in the Edgware Road.

Men’s curiosity searches past and future

And clings to that dimension. But to apprehend

The point of intersection of the timeless

With time, is an occupation for the saint –

No occupation either, but something given

And taken, in a lifetime’s death in love,

Ardour and selflessness and self-surrender.

For most of us, there is only the unattended

Moment, the moment in and out of time,

The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight,

The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning

Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply

That it is not heard at all, but you are the music

While the music lasts. These are only hints and guesses,

Hints followed by guesses; and the rest

Is prayer, observance, discipline, thought and action.

The hint half guessed, the gift half understood, is Incarnation.

Here the impossible union

Of spheres of existence is actual,

Here the past and future

Are conquered, and reconciled,

Where action were otherwise movement

Of that which is only moved

And has in it no source of movement –

Driven by daemonic, chthonic

Powers. And right action is freedom

From past and future also.

For most of us, this is the aim

Never here to be realised;

Who are only undefeated

Because we have gone on trying;

We, content at the last

If our temporal reversion nourish

(Not too far from the yew-tree)

The life of significant soil.

For the Love of Mosquitoes


I woke up this morning, and started to grumble because it seems overcast again. I made a pot of coffee and then started scratching my finger. I have a danged MOSQUITO BITE right by the knuckle on top of my third finger. It is annoying, but a reminder of what a wonderful evening I had yesterday.

Last night, I sat around a campfire with a group of people, and the topic was HOPE. We had a wonderful, in depth discussion on times when life has been good, or when it has felt hopeless, and how grateful we were for the gifts God had given us. Then I prayed with the scriptures of the day and they help one put it all in perspective. It is all in Christ.

From the beginning of Paul’s second letter to Corinthians

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the Father of compassion and the God of all encouragement,
who encourages us in our every affliction,
so that we may be able to encourage
those who are in any affliction
with the encouragement with which we ourselves are encouraged by God.

For as Christ’s sufferings overflow to us,
so through Christ does our encouragement also overflow.
If we are afflicted,
it is for your encouragement and salvation;
if we are encouraged,
it is for your encouragement,
which enables you to endure the same sufferings that we suffer.

Our hope for you is firm,
for we know that as you share in the sufferings,
you also share in the encouragement.

Followed by “Taste and See that the Lord is Good” for a Psalm and the Beatitudes for the gospel.


After our discussion last night, a friend and I pulled out the guitars, and a bunch stayed and we sang around the campfire for an hour and a half, enjoying the fire, the laughter, the camaraderie, the fresh air, summer, life. It was THEN that the stinking mosquito bit me.

And yet as itchy as it may be today it is my reminder that “our hope for you is firm, for we know that as you share in the sufferings you also share in the encouragement ” It is also a reminder of what a wonderful time I had last night, and to enjoy the day.


Good Morning!

Well,  Actually it is 2:02 PM

I tend to write long posts on my Facebook on regular basis, and I finally decided it might be interesting to turn it into a blog.   There are many times I am touched by nature, the daily scripture readings, or the words of my favorite new or old song.  I also have a bit of a quirky sense of humor, and can entertain myself  quite easily.

I hope and pray that you may find something here that works for you!    Blessings on your day and on your light.