Learning to listen to the songs of the angels, was a great lesson at my previous job.

Perhaps it is only through the whistles of the hornets nests that they jam, but I had never heard the angel's jam as they did in insurances. At church, it is a simple song of rejoicing and delight. Insurance pillars are another place that the angels seemed very concerned and deliberate. I don't exactly know why, although I can surmise some of the reasons. That is not my interest in discussing them, today. It was the light show that was breathtaking, that I saw the other night. What a great and beautiful meeting of the angels in the sky. I was grateful to have been included or enlightened to their meeting.

It looked as though the angels get the privilege to dispense certain special abilities in the lightning. It looked like it was their web, like a spider's web. They take the principalities and put a lasso around them and make them subject to the Lord of All. This will never do, we must have this principality overcome that wicked thought pattern and take it captive. Has the church been praying about this or that wicked practice, overwhelming them in their days? The Church has prayed and so we will send that on the barge to the places where prayer is wont. Some of the battles of the spirit are flaming in the sky above us, as we contend in prayer, corporate prayer. What claims are in heaven have to do with whether the conditions are prayed for. Is the language dealing with problems in their culture? Are the children being tolerated or welcomed? Is mercy a forethought or an afterthought? How many children are learning of God's grace and mercy, before the hardening of the conscience? How many are slipping through the cracks? The claims of heaven are more specific and more eternal than those on the earth. Ours is the prayer and the activity part. It seems the angel's take the claims to heaven and dispatch the eternal consequences and the light show seemed to be a meeting, where they burned garbage and recycled what they could. It was beautiful, just the same.

This morning there was a narrow group of clouds rolling by...

They weren't full of water by any means. They didn't seem to even have air inside them. They trounced or staggered toward the sunrise, like an inebriated band after a long night of partying. None of them were paired off and so they went home to sleep off the cares. I don't know if they really partied last night, those clouds. Clouds have a way of always looking a bit tipsy. It might have been my lack of caffeine that tilted my judgment about these beauteous wonders of the Huntersville skyline, or it might just be my vivid imagination at work again. It was bound to be an on again off again cloudy interactive day.

The night clouds are making a ruckus, perhaps castigating their inebriated young-uns for their last night's romp, I imagine. Anyway, Helen whispered to me, Sing the "Blind man song" so I did. We giggled that she knows the blind man song to me and I know that the blind man song doesn't have blind man in it, it is just the wrong way that I sing it. I just can't help, falling in love with you. Blind men stay, It's not blind men, it's wise men stay, only fools rush in. As soon as I said it, I started laughing that Helen and I would be singing that song together. She can see stuff, she never could and I can't see things that I should see. That is why we are friends. Well after we laughed for a while about whether it was blind or wise to be wise or blind, we ended the song and we knew that we weren't singing it to each-other, but for eachother to converse on the dark concourse of life, between time and eternity. The things tha-t entertain earthlings so much is funny to those enjoying the completion of their course. I can't find my backhand, I tell Helen. She is singing to me to help me find it. Maybe if I laugh it will come back to me.