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Spring When the sun loves, deeply, and with feeling, it penetrates the barren landscape and ignites the spirit wanting to emerge — in that instant, revealing verdant fields covered in flowers, big and small, growing toward the light… broadcasting a symphony of colors. Maria Morera Johnson
When God Makes Bread To make bread one needs: • A mixing bowl • The ingredients • A mixing spoon • And finally fire (heat) The bowl must be appropriate for the bread. It must be strong enough to hold the mixture, Not too large, not too dainty. Comfortable enough to cradle in the arm. […]
Springtime in Washington Ah, springtime has arrived in Washington, D.C. The National Cherry Blossom Festival is under way. The cherry trees, 3,700 of them given to America by the Japanese in 1912, are in full bloom. One incident involving the trees reminds me why Americans are so wary of Washington. In the spring of 1999, […]
Look Home Retired thoughts enjoy their own delights, As beauty doth in self-beholding eye ; Man’s mind a mirror is of heavenly sights, A brief wherein all marvels summed lie, Of fairest forms and sweetest shapes the store, Most graceful all, yet thought may grace them more. The mind a creature is, yet can create, […]
Good Friday On this day a cross was shed. The price was paid. The ransom satisfied, The debt was removed. Hung He had for those long hours, In silence and in suffering. The pain severe Enough (so as) to bring agony to the witnesses. He held His cries ‘Till the bitter end, When He pleaded […]
Fourteenth Station Good Friday I am here, watching the hole, Filled with a rock and still There is danger, stupid anger. I heard him speak once; He was very good. Like a god. Maybe he was a god. Maybe he was God. So we killed God and buried him in a hole. He’s in the […]
Grocery Night Thursday night was grocery shopping night and the best night of the week. Right after dinner, my father and I would board our 1972 Plymouth Fury station wagon and head to the Del Farm grocery store. It was located in a small plaza one mile from our suburban home. Like all grocery stores […]
Thirteenth Station Good Friday He’s dead? Already? I was sure he would remain, A living human stain, Hanging up there, he should have been good For another few hours of gory food. I cannot believe this news. You are sure? You saw it too? Really? Fine. Do what you will. Take him down. Let him […]
Twelfth Station Good Friday Father, forgive them, they know not what they do. I’m not saying they aren’t culpable, But they don’t know better. They choose this evil, but they don’t know why. Working through them? Lord, I understand. So forgive them their part, Lord, if they are willing. Not my will, though, but Thine. […]
Income Tax 101 Ah, the income tax preparation season is upon us. You’re probably wondering why you have to spend a couple of weekends barricaded in a room, sorting through receipts in the faint hope of complying with our confusing income tax laws. The income tax first came to America in 1861. Americans paid it […]
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Eleventh Station Good Friday “My friends, you are my closest ones. You alone I can trust. You are my closest companions, James, here, you have some dust Stuck to your shirt, There, cleaned off the dirt. My three friends, Peter, James, and John, Are closer to me than the rising sun. I tell you this, […]
Tenth Station Good Friday My pretty bird, sing for me. My, what beautiful feathers, What beautiful fetters. I’ll take them off you, And your feathers too. My bird, my worm, dove turned to dirt. Aww, you cry. I’ll wipe your face. The back of my hand cleans that disgrace. Foolish man, you are nothing now. […]
Ninth Station Good Friday Why doesn’t he stay there? It’s good for him, the old dusty air. Kings of Kings have trodden here, Holding dear Sacred relics of God and Man, Keeping them hidden, doing what they can to help God. No, this man won’t enjoy the dirt. He will not rest, His loins are […]
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Eighth Station Good Friday Mother, who’s that man? Why is he sighing? Mother, who’s that lady? Why is she crying? Mother, who’s that man? Why is he bleeding? Mother, who are these ladies? Why are they weeping? Why are you weeping? Mother? Mommy? Matthew B. Rose
“To follow you we were content, and grateful for the way we went.”
Seventh Station Good Friday I can see Him now, coming up this way, Murmuring words no man can say. Worming his way along the path, He trusted all, all for their worth Broken, bleeding, he heard their pleading A mother in love, a Father above, Spittle flying, Love is dying. I hear crying. O My […]
