Out of the Woods...

A. Unabashed Pacifist:

I see nothing sacred in dying for one’s country. For the people we love, perhaps. Better, however, if we live for them. Country benefits more from the living as well.

B. Unabashed Christian:

Holy Child,

As we marvel at the star, send us your peace.
As we listen to angel choirs, send us your peace.
As we stand in wonder, send us your peace.
As we bow at your manger, send us your peace.
As we hear the cries of children, send us your peace.
Amen

C. Un-quoting Jesus:

“Mom, I had this dream of a white birthday. What does it mean?”

[Having been raised in southern California, I have never quite understood it, either. But He never said it.]

D. Blog: A Poem

A Walk in the Woods

A walk in the woods returns me to childhood camping,
with scenes of wondrous learning and dreaming.
These woods revive all my senses,
the physical five plus memory, both human and personal.
They take me home to the place
where homo sapiens learned how to be,
And bring me once more to Eden, where I name what I know
and wish for the names of what I don’t.

In the woods, walking is required;
no other means of transit takes me to places worth going.
Walking lets me see the monarch butterfly, hear the woodpecker,
taste the honeysuckle, touch the oak’s bark, smell clean earth
or wonder at anything worth sensing there.
When I walk in the woods, I know the trees and the forest –
any other approach just uses them.
This way, they refresh me with coolness, ancient wisdom,
and spirit-lifting leaves that become as pages from the book of life.
To walk in the woods lets me hear and feel myself
as part of what’s real and lasting and whole; I connect to my source and my destination.