“Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comes
Wherein our Savior’s birth is celebrated
The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,
The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
No fairy takes nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow’d and so gracious is the time.”
Gulp. I just realized that I haven’t posted since November. Granted, I’ve had a lot happening in my life, but shouldn’t I be blogging the most at times like this? Instead I drew into my turtle shell. However, since this is Wordless Wednesday, I will skip the writing and catch up using photos!. Pictures of …
As usual, credit for everything below–except my answers, that is–goes to the wonderful gals over at RevGalBlogPals. And I owe them a hearty “thank you” for giving me a some much-needed writing inspiration! I should mention that I did have my neck surgery last week and the surgeon said the procedure went “swimmingly.” I find …
We all reach times when we suddenly feel that we have more to bear than we can handle. Thank goodness I’ve lived long enough to know this is fact, because for many years, I thought I was all alone, that I was the only one who ever felt inadequate, or selfish, or so overwhelmed that …
In happier news, the house is (mostly) decorated for Christmas! We finally got a pre-lit tree so poor George didn’t have to get tangled in the lights, swearing and cursing. Although watching him was one of the highlights of my holidays every year since we got married (nine years in October!!) I don’t think George …
I haven’t written here since September? To be honest, this entire semester has gone by in a blur. Really, I ought to say non-semester, since I’ve been on medical leave, yet again. This time, it’s mostly my neck. Apparently, my facet nerves are damaged and inflamed as a result of my car accident this summer, …
American Cemetery overlooking Omaha BeachColleville-sur-Mer, FranceOver 9,000 American soldiers who lost their lives in WWII are buried here ********************************************************* In Flanders Fields the poppies growBetween the crosses, row on rowThat mark our place; and in the skyThe larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amidst the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days agoWe loved, …
Our every encounter leads someone toward beatitude or away from it
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