Now we see through a glass darkly

Now we see through a glass darkly
Helen Keller and her mother exemplified in the Miracle Worker

Saturday, June 24, 2017

{Coming events cast a shadow?} I saw clouds that looked like this in the sky a couple of years ago. I said to myself They are still fighting, those two, Roosevelt and Taft.

Today, I found out that Planned Parenthood was founded in 1916. 10/16/1916 was their inception on paper. I had read about their door to door campaign in Cheaper by the dozen and was curious about the political dynamics of the time. We had just come out of our own serious political chasm, of sorts, namely Hillary vs. Trump campaign and the tremors of political upheaval are still being felt. I do wonder if CS Lewis saw these dynamics and was narrating them in Lion Witch Wardrobe, or just pontificating from the hill. It seems the former to me. Dozen was written/published in 1948 and Wardrobe published 1950.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Imaginations of Jochabed!

Spare me, by your mercy, sings Jochabed as she weaves the great basket for her tiny gift.  Spare me Lord the suffering.  Give me grace I pray.  Let my child live through this awful day.  Spare me Lord, By your grace for You are merciful and Kind.  I can never know why your hand is heavy upon us, but spare and give my child a chance to live and serve you.
Does the grave praise your power.  Does the death declare your name.  Does the distant sad Sheol give the glory we proclaim.  We are here to love and serve you, even in a distant land. We are begging God, your holy love would stay the wicked hands. debt of love I owe. Dear Lord I give myself away, it's all that I can do” Bathing Egyptian women--- sounds of weeping women from the distance.
Woman 1---It is so sad that they are weeping so much.
Woman 2---The will of the gods was supreme.  I don't know how they can still be worshipping their God when it is clear that they are subservient to us.  Pharaoh is supreme and they still hold onto their ways of distinctiveness.  Their loss is sad, but their rebellion must be dealt with.  Pharaoh is our highest power. 
Princess---I hear a baby crying
Silence-----

They all pan out.  They all search through the reeds and look high and low for the place where the noise is coming from.  Miriam is behind a bush and making more baby noises from the distances.

Princess finds the baby carrier in the reeds and opens it to find not a crying baby, but a cooing and happy little fellow and she takes him out.



Let us read the letter from our great and high exalted one:
The women gathered at the river and they had a letter from the Pharoah that said. "My high exalted women, you who have won the privilege from the gods to be a part of the royal household, know that my grace and joy is to know that you are happy to be the ones who I trust to serve me. I will see the beauty and the glory of the things that you do and the joy that you accomplish the work. There are some sounds that are coming into your ears of wailing of the underlings. Unfavorable servants have had to be disposed of recently for our own reasons to maintain order and respect for our way of life and they are still in a grief. They have been told that they have one more day to control themselves and if they continue the loud sounds from their homes we will have to continue purging their people group, down to the last one, if need be. I ask your respectful patience and that you not allow their unreasonable sounds to darken your activities. We are doing all we can to keep your hearts lifted above the likes of the disparaging ones. Know that we are cleaning the kingdom and sometimes these things must be done. I expect your reasonable adherence to the rules of court and facial expression and emotional deportment. I wouldn't want any of you to be poisoned by the things you have heard and seen. My Pharoah daughter will keep me in contact with the behaviors and those who may have become dulled in spirit by the sounds and repercussions will be swift and thorough. I trust you understand my meaning. Your adored Pharoah!

Monday, June 12, 2017

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Grandma's Happy Easter Hug!

Granny, You look like a big beautiful Easter Egg. His little arms were reaching around my calves and hugging me so tight that I almost fell over onto him. I love you, sonny, but you are going to knock your granny over, if you don't let my calves go. I love you Granny! I was beaming at the wonder of our enjoyment. I walked him over to my chair and we sat down and I started to tell him how I got that big lump on my shoulder. It was a day that I could tell him. When I was young, I was on the volleyball team and I had a fierce underhand serve. One day, Mr. T said you are going to take a chance and serve overhand. I remember hitting the ball as hard as I possibly could. The ball looped up in the air and didn't even make it to the first line girls, much less to the net. I remember saying to myself, I will never be able to serve overhand. We lost the scrimmage that day against the lesser players and it was all because I couldn't even get one serve over the net. We had grown accustomed to depending on my serve for some many points. Even as a Freshman, I could get that underhand serve where I wanted it. Mr. T seemed puzzled and quiet that whole practice session. He said, I am not going to accept this. We are going to work together and get your serve to work. I am sure it will help your tennis serve, as well. We spent the rest of practice hitting serves against the wall of the gym. It was a muscle that I hadn't even known that I had. I just felt like a weakling. I kept hitting it and hitting it and it took about 2 sessions for the ball to trickle slightly over the net. That was the first trickle in a scrimmage. Then there was trying it in a real game. Oh no! I was determined to keep my trusty dusty underhand serve, for confidence sake. Mr. T made me willing to let go of my confidence in my identity as a safe and consistent server for the power and wonder that became my identity when I developed my real serve. By my senior year and even now. I could look at a spot and hit it without as much effort as it was in the beginning. All of those many serves strengthened my shoulder muscles, but also strained it. That muscle was my identity for many years. The girl with the unreturnable serve. Many girls would prefer to duck than to try to hit it and I can't count how many aces I had under my belt. All of this great enjoyment has a price to be paid and this lump reminds me of a wall that I was helped over, by a man with a vision of an overhead serve that I couldn't see and didn't even want. The power of his vision gave me something I would never have had, if he hadn't pushed me past my petulance. God bless Mr T and I am grateful that my injury is not the same testimony as my dads testimony of his arm injuries! God can turn around the darkness and bring it to victory. When somebody sees over the wall of impossibility.

Monday, March 6, 2017

I sat at the fire with my binoculars...






So many questions flooded my mind, from fearful ones about lions and bears to more comforting ones about the animals that I could see.  I had decided that, if there were fierce maneaters stalking me, they'd have shown themselves already and I went about entertaining myself with the views of the peaceful tranquility that surrounded me.  Very soon, this felt as though it were my own home.  Conversation seemed easy with small sparrows and whippoorwills, as though they could understand me.  Perhaps they all did.  All at once my eyes lighted upon a large and hidden nest of some sort.
      The marshy area had a constant water sound and the chirps and wildlife sounds were interesting and calming.   This silenced me, for some reason.  Chattiness was drowning out the real subject of my exploration.   A swift loud crunchy sound attracted my attention that there were some busy beavers, looked like 6 of them,  working on some construction project in the farthest corner of my eyeshot.  Certain that my talking was annoying to them, hushed me even further.
       I, very carefully checked every step as I tried to get closer to that nest in the distance.  It was about a stone's throw away, but one never knows if there are soft-spots or holes in the marshy area that I was in.  Everything looked gray in the distance.   As I came closer,  I heard some very sharp bird sound that was alarming.  I retreated immediately.  The beauty of a happy Crane couple, staring at me in alarm, convinced me to do my investigating through my binoculars.  Both birds came up swiftly and cawing profusely convinced me that it was time to pack it in.
       I put out my fire and took a drew a swift sketch of the nest and ran back to camp.






Saturday, February 25, 2017

Dancing in the woods

Spring break was always a time for mom and me to go camping in the woods. We would hike for miles and miles and live off of the paltry provisions, we’d carry and anything that we could catch. We would set a camp each night and then set off for a greater wilderness wandering at daybreak. I did so love the smell of the wild and mom’s pipe, which were my delightful enjoyments, along with the pictures that we both kept of sketched wildlife that we would do.

This morning mom was tired from hiking and her knees were aching a bit, so she decided to stay close to camp for the day and collect her thoughts. Shorty was going to pick us up in his plane the next day, so I was eager to set off for a last explore before we went back to the city. Mom said if you are not back here at 5 pm. I will call Shorty tonight and we may never, ever come back, Do you hear me? This was my first, but certainly wouldn't be my last lone explore. Mom and I synchronized watches and it was 6:05 am and I remember every single cloud that was in the sky. They were large, white and puffy and seemed to rejoice with me that I was going to be freely enjoying their entertainment for the next several hours. I knew how to mark my path, so that I would know my way back. The first tree marks that I made were entirely too close together. I was imagining getting very lost, some paces from the camp. I counted my every step and wrote the number on my markings, meticulously. At 7 I felt that I had gone as far as I wanted, for the day and made a campfire and sat on a rock at the side of the river with my binoculars. I took out my sketch pad and my pocket knife and my sling, just in case there were any threatening animals approaching.

The morning dew was drying in the sun, but the shady places were still too wet to have an easy time setting my fire. I collected much dry brush as I could find, but it was quite a while before I got a real fire going. I am afraid that all of the wildlife that I was trying to sketch were scared away by my clumsy setting of a fire at that time of the morning. I set up my hook and reel and I was really hungry and hoping that I might catch a bite here and there before too long.
A sigh of reality and freedom had overtaken any real fear of what might have happened out there.

jayne c walker's

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_________________________________________________________________________________________________<>Robins Don't LeanBluejays Don't Beg

For the Birds?

For the Birds?
click on the picture to for an Evvie story.

Sparrow's Spring nest

Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow were caught, by me yesterday, shopping together for a new home. They flitted and flirted, just outside my window. Talking and discussing and lovingly disagreeing, if not arguing the benefits and the pitfalls of living at our house.
Mrs. Sparrow was very impressed with the 2 "ready made" nests hung outside our window. Mr. Sparrow hadn't even thought of them as "ready-made" nests. He used them for the provision of building materials for the private home that he had in mind in a surprise and hidden place. He doesn't like the openness, at all, of our porch. It's much too populated. When Mr. Sparrow gets it into his mind to give his sweet chicky a peck, he wants the freedom to do it without a bunch of younguns peeking over the nest to see what comes next.
Mrs. Sparrow was impressed that the porch was fully protected from hailstones. We all know what happened to a great many of last years' nests in that surprise hailstorm we had. Male birds seem to have a very short memory for storms. They have only one thing in mind in the nest building season... 03/09