Dear Friends, This is my first blog on this site. I will try to keep it brief. I have felt a calling inside me from a young age to fight injustice. I had a Muslim friend at school who was constantly being picked on because of the colour of his skin and his faith and the shop his parents owned was often vandalised. I also had a Catholic friend who attended the Cathloic High School. In Scotland there are generally two schools, one non-demoninational and the other Roman Catholic. ...
Today, as everyday, I am being mindful of gratitude, what I have to be grateful for. Basil. My tiny vegetable garden and the beautiful healthy patch of basil growing. Three different varieties. Checking on my garden this afternoon, I saw a baby rabbit scampered across the garden's planted rows, under the wooden fence and into the lot behind my home. This adorable bunny I've now seen twice, hasn't gone after anything I've planted. Here's the plant mix in case you're curious: Eggplant, pumpkin, watermelon, ...
Greetings godswappers, Hi there! Rumors of my death are hella exaggerated. It’s unfortunate that immediately after my little vacation I am unavailable to write due to the general necessities of life. I've been in a classroom where typing would be disruptive. I have done my best to keep tabs on the site and it's really awesome to see so many comments and people supporting the work. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!! I've been bouncing in my seat everyday when I go to see more. ...
Roberto died at High Valley, our center, after a long illness. During his last weeks, his friends Karen and David cared for him there, joined by his mother Luisa from Venezuela. Until her recent move to a nursing home, Karen and David shared a house with my mother-in-law Olga, also from Venezuela. Olga’s last years at home coincided with the years Roberto, a musician from New York, stayed at High Valley frequently. Whenever he visited, he played Venezuelan folksongs on his Cuatro for Olga. In her ...
We usually think of praying as something we do, a prayer as something we say or perhaps read, aloud or silently. But if a singer is one who sings, a writer one who writes, a dancer one who dances, and so forth, we could say that a prayer is one who prays. If we pray, we are prayers. The daughter of an Episcopal priest, I grew up with the sonorous, sometimes terrifying language of The 1928 Book of Common Prayer. From the General Confession this phrase has always stayed with me. “We ...
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