An Appalachian Country Rag-- By Faith Alone
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(Country Reckoning)
A Country Rag

By Faith Alone

Sola fide

Thou shalt love your neighbor as yourself, Leviticus 19:18, Click graphic for In God We Trust

(Midi below: Handel's Alleluia)


"Just four years earlier, a cerebral hemorrhage had paralyzed [George Frederick Handel]'s entire right side rendering his hand and leg useless. While doctors held out little hope for recovery, Handel traveled to Aix-la-Chapelle to soak in the healing baths. With nine-hour soaks in the scalding waters, strength began to course back into his atrophied muscles. In a burst of both creativity and ability to use his hand, Handel penned a number of tour operas. Honors were once again bestowed upon him. When Queen Caroline, Handel's chief patroness, died, Handel was once again driven to poverty. As a bitter winter began to descend upon England, theatres cancelled performances sinking him into deeper debt.... Hopelessly he returned to his shabby dwelling. As he entered, he saw a package on his desk. Upon tearing off the wrapping he found a simple note, 'A Sacred Oratorio.' Handel began to read the attached letter from a second-rate poet named Charles Jennens. In the note Jennens expressed his desire that Handel begin work immediately on the attached oratorio, adding: 'The Lord gave the Word.'... Handel could feel inspiration returning. A symphony in his mind spun wondrous melodies one after another; he began writing.... To Handel 'Messiah' was the hope of the world.... Opening night, the response of the first audience was unadulterated joy! Upon returning to London, both society's and Handel's anticipation were peaked. During the opening performance, following the King, the audience stood to their feet at the beginning of the 'Hallelujah Chorus'; this practice continues today. Handel's Messiah was performed each year until his death with all proceeds going to the Foundling Hospital. In his will he bequeathed all royalties to the same charity...." -- CD liner notes for Messiah performed by Bratislava Philharmonic and Choir in their Concert Hall

One of our newest winter solstice celebrations is Kwanzaa, "... a holiday created in 1966 by Dr. Maulana Karenga to celebrate African-American family, community and culture. The holiday is celebrated over a seven-day period, from December 26 through January 1, and is based on the first African harvest celebrations. The name Kwanzaa comes from the Swahili phrase 'matunda ya kwanza,' meaning 'first fruits.' Kwanzaa highlights the traditional African values of family, community responsibility, commerce, and self-improvement, and was created as a way to reaffirm the African-American people, their ancestors and culture. The celebration centers around seven principles called Nguzo Saba, which emphasize the unity of Black families. The seven principles include: Umoja (unity), Kujichagulia (self-determination), Ujima (collective work and responsibility), Ujamaa (cooperative economics), Nia (purpose), Kuumba (creativity), Imani (faith)." -- Herald & Tribune, 11/24/09

Nada te turbe (God alone is enough)
Let nothing upset you,
let nothing startle you.
All things pass;
God does not change.
Patience wins
all it seeks.
Whoever has God
lacks nothing:
God alone is enough.
-- Saint Teresa of Avila

The Flaming Hart
(translation by Richard Crawshaw, 1648)

... Live in these conquering leaves; live all the same,
And walke through all tongues one triumphant flame.
Live here great heart; and Love, and dye, and kill,
And bleed, and wound, and yield, and conquer still.
Let this imortall Life, where e'er it comes,
Walke in a crowd of Loves, and Martyrdomes.
Let Mystick Deaths waite on't; and wise soules bee,
The love-slaine-witnesses, of this life of Thee.
O sweet incendiary!  shew here thy art,
Upon this carcasse of a hard, cold, hart,
Let all thy scatter'd shafts of light, that play
Among the leaves of thy larg Books of day,
Combin'd against this Brest at once break in
And take away from me my self & sin,
This gratious Robbery shall they bounty be;
And my best fortunes such fair spoiles of me.
O thou undanted daughter of desires!
By all thy dowr of Lights & Fires;
By all the eagle in thee, all the dove;
By all thy lives and deaths of love;
By thy larg draughts of intellectuall day,
And by thy thirsts of love more large then they;
By all thy brim-fill'd Bowles of feirce desire
By thy last Morning's draught of liquid fire;
By the full kingdome of that finall kisse
That seiz'd thy parting Soul, & seal'd thee his;
By all the heav'ns thou hast in him
(Fair sister of the Seraphim!)
By all of Him we have in Thee;
Leave nothing of my Self in me.
Let me so read thy life, that I
Unto all life of mine may dy.   
-- Saint Teresa of Avila
"While the visions are today the most famous part of her spiritual experience, she considered them inferior to the quiet sense of union with God that she was to achieve later in life. The visions were disorienting and an embarrassment, although she did her best to hide them from her sisters. They were also dangerous. It was not unusual for visionaries to wind up at the stake. Teresa's autobiography was already being examined by the Inquisition for signs of heresy; and as a woman and the descendant of Jews, she was especially suspect. Increasingly, those around Teresa tried to disassociate themselves from her. At the same time, Teresa felt drawn to a more strict life of poverty and self-denial." -- Drexel University commentary

Mirandy Musings

by Mirandy

One year ago today I said my first little speech over THE NATIONAL FARM AND HOME HOUR. I had been on local Radio for some time but that was my first chance to speak my mind clear from one ocean to the other. I was so scared I raced like a horse headed for the barn, but as time went on I was able to slow down a little and the fact that at the end of the year I am still with you means that many of you have sanctioned my Remarks.
Radio is not the one-sided thing it may seem. You -- the Listeners -- are the Better-half, and I count this the happiest year of my life in that I have been able to make thousands of friends all over our broad and beautiful land. I know you are friends because you have written and said so in many heart-warming letters. So many have asked for my little talks and suggested that I have them printed out in a book that I finally took your advice -- and here they are -- the cream anyway, the rest looked pretty thin since they have had time to set.
I hope you-all enjoy them a little. I hope some copies will be read by our boys and girls in Far Off Lands. If any of you want to read from them at your Grange or Club, I will be proud to have you, but would appreciate it if you will mention that you heard it on the NATIONAL FARM AND HOME HOUR, which program together with THE BLUE NETWORK gave me permission to have them printed in book form.
As to the question is Persimmon Holler real -- Do I live in the Ozarks -- Do I have a family and farm, and all just as I say? It is all real but I don't live there NOW. I still raise children, chickens, and garden, but do it on a California lot. However, nothing is ever lost as long as have our memory, so it is no trick at all for me to close my eyes and be right back Home.
I love the Good Earth and the people who live close to her are my kind of people, so I feel very proud that among the important information from the United States Department of Agriculture, the fine music and other things, they daily spare a little time for me on the NATIONAL FARM AND HOME HOUR.
God love you all, and fare-ye-well,
MIRANDY, Preface to Breezes from Persimmon Holler, 1943

"Be It Ever So Humble"

Be it ever so Humble" Howdy, folks: -- 'Course you all know the old song, "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home." But -- for the duration I reckon it ought to go, "No place But home."

In the long run I'll bound you this Gas Rationing will turn out to have been a blessing in disguise. Why shucks! -- since we are fighting for our Homes, it ain't a bad Idee for folks to stay in 'em long enough to get acquainted with the old place ... and besides it's an awful good way to Save Money. If you don't go nowheres you can't spend much and you don't have to have nothing to wear.

There is a heap of pleasures to be had right under our own Vine and Fig-Tree, or setting in front of our own Fireplace -- but so many people is like a old breechy cow, bound to jump the fence for grass no greener than what she's got to home. They think they got to be on the Run all the time -- just got the habit of going, but a habit ain't sump'n a body can't change. 'Specially when they have to.

Of course I'm old-fashioned, but there ain't Nothing I enjoy better than setting around the Fire-Place on a cold winter nite... But then we really have a fire -- we have such a fire you don't hardly need to light the lamp. I love to set and do my Patching whilst the youngens get their school-lessons or pop corn and crack nuts on the hearth.

I recollect when I was little how we-all used to card wool in the winter evenings. My Maw never done any spinning -- my Granny used to spin and weave -- but we would card wool for comforts and we used to sell it too. Sometimes one of us would read-out-loud or we would all get to singing and law! how we enjoyed it.

As far as I'm concerned I am enjoying staying to home now long enough to get a heap of Things Done that I had been laying-by to do for I don't know how long. Get the backing on a few quilts and my Cooking-Receipts, and the Poems that I've been saving, and such as that -- sorted out. And I'll bet a heap of women are getting their men-folks at Jobs they been a-putting off for years. I'll bound you there will be mroe closets get shelves in 'em -- porches get painted, window-lights be put in and door-latches fixed. But, maybe I'm putting Idees into you women's heads!

Some folks is felling kinder put-out over having to stay to Home on account of no gas.... when the Soldier Boys at the army camps, or over yonder in foreign lands are counting the Hours and the Days and asking nothing more in life than to get Home. One of our neighbor boys wrote to his maw last summer and says, "I just get lonesome to hear the bugs a-singing to one another back there in the holler." I tell you Gold ain't yellow and Honey ain't sweet when a body ain't Home and a-wanting to be there.

And, lawsy! all the songs that's been wrote about "My Old Cabin Home" -- "My Old Kentucky Home" -- "Old Folks at Home" -- "I'll take you Home Again, Kathleen." Of course all those songs -- them old homesick pieces, it ain't only the Homes they're a-longing for with all the sweet old sights and sounds, but a heap of times it's their Youth. It's just a-going back to Simpler, yet Richer ways of living that people are honeing for, away from all this hurry and nerve-stretching, peace-destroying, speed and excitement.

To my notion these last few years have been geared up too plague-gone Fast. Why, only a generation ago people used to go in to town and set around all day waiting for the Stage Coach and think nothing of it. Now they just kick their-selves if they miss one turn of them revolving-doors. All the raacing around folks has been a-doing in these gasoline years -- it has had its drawbacks. Maybe if we are forced back into a little old-time Quiet and Simplicity... when we get the gas again our brains will have ripened to where we can use it with a little more Judgment and Moderation.

I'll never forget what Gramma Boggs said to me one time. She said, "I jist love to set out in the door-yard in the sun 'mongst the birds and flowers, and watch the fool folks rushin' hither and yon like a flock of chickens. And as you watch 'em you cain't hep but notice how many of 'em does a heap o' cracklin' fer the size of the egg they lay."

"Now we ask you, brothers, to respect those who work hard among you, who are over you in the Lord and who admonish you. Hold them in the highest regard in love because of their work. Live in peace with each other. And we urge you, brothers, warn those who are idle, encourage the timid, help the weak, be patient with everyone. Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always try to be kind to each other and to everyone else. Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. Do not put out the Spirit’s fire; do not treat prophecies with contempt. Test everything. Hold on to the good. Avoid every kind of evil. May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through." -- 1 Thessalonians 5:12-23

"The Female Sect"

Howdy, folks: -- I was just a-thinking how some of these Young Mothers make such a to-do if they can't get them Vegetables in the little cans all sieved up and ready to feed to their Babies. Well, sir -- I have to laugh at that... Just think of all the Generations of Babies that was raised before such as that was Discovered. There's a heap of things that's pleasant and handy but ain't no-ways Necessary. I can see my Maw yet and all of my Aunts and plenty of other Women -- in my mind's eye -- settin' up at the table with a Baby on their lap, feeding it out of their own plate and sometimes chewing the vittles up for 'em. And giving 'em a Chicken-foot or a fat Meat-Rind to cut their teeth on, or a Lump of Sugar tied up in a rag.

Heavenly days! I reckon some folks thinks it's a wonder the Human Race has ever survived the old fashioned methods they had to put up with. When I raised my own Babies I tried to go a little bit By The Book. I know when Marthy was little, I read where it said to Scrape a Apple and give to 'em. I peeled a apple and started to Scrape it.... she grabbed it out of my hand and eat the hull thing down, and she has been eating 'em ever since and I never did get one Scraped for her.

I named her after my Aunt Marthy. She was one of the Finest Women the Lord ever set the Sun shine on. Left a widder with Six Youngens, -- nary one of 'em big enough to Lead a Horse to Water -- she raised them children single-handed and alone, put 'em through School and got 'em well started in life. When she died it said in the Paper that She Lived With Her Son. There never was a greater mistake than that -- she never lived with her children, Them Youngens Lived With Her.

A Woman can nearly always be depended on in trouble. Do you remember that piece in the old School-Reader about the Tall Tower some fellers had been working on and by some mis-chance -- I disremember how it happened -- but one poor feller was left on top with no way to get down, and no ladder to reach him, and sudden a Woman run through the Crowd and hollered up to him, "John, ravel out your Stocking -- begin at the Toe." Pretty soon he let down a Yarn String and they tied a Strong String to it and then a Rope, and pretty soon John was a-sliding down it.

The trouble in this life, most generally, us Women's talk ain't heeded In Time, or things wouldn't get in the Fix they do get in. I hope I don't sound like I'm bragging, but the Men-Folks always stick up for their own sect purty good. I reckon it ain't no harm for us Women to Toot Our Own Horn onct in awhile. They shore can't get along without in Peace or War, and of course we don't want 'em to. Every woman, if she's worth her salt, wants to be Useful. And most of u s has got so used to Work, we can't even set down and rest, good, without we've Sump'n to-be-a-doing with our Hands. Often times I think Men-Folks miss it by not having sump'n to do when they set down. They don't seem to, though.

I recollect an old Widder-Lady. She was a good Woman but tighter than the Bark on a Tree before the sap riz in the spring, and she was a Manager from away-back. When her Man died, 'course she had to have Some-body to help her on the place, but she couldn't keep a Hand very long. They'd all quit, give one excuse or another... but at least it come out that in their Noon-Hour instead of laying back in the shade and smoking their pipe, Miz Judd was having 'em tack Carpet-Rags whilst they rested. You can laugh at that but it's true.

We'uns has got some awful good Neighbors, the Loganses. Uncle Tutt Logan is pretty old and kinder slow, but like a heap of Slow-Motion Folks, he's pertic'lar about his work and he's mighty apt to get a Good Stand of Corn where the speedy fellers will be a-replanting. He's been Planting Corn all this week -- using the old Hand Planter. I heered it going -- clickety-clacking just as steady and regular as the old clock on the wall. Well, -- yesterday morning the sky kinder clabbered-up like it was fixing to rain and Aunt Lidy got oneasy, fearing he wouldn't get done, so out she come with a Pail of Corn and a Hoe. She'd drop two rows, then she'd pick up her Hoe and go through a-covering. Then she'd be back for her Bucket and a-dropping corn she'd go just as spry and firm-stepping as a girl, and her well up in the Sixties. Yes, sir -- four grains to the hill... "One for the Cut-Worm, one for the Crow, one to Rot, and one to Grow."

And it'll grow, too, I'll bound you. They didn't get quite done, at that -- but a sight Nigher Done than if Aunt Lidy hadn't a-holp out. There's a moral in that. Reckon I don't have to point it out.

Revelations 8:1 --
En toen Het het zevende zegel geopend had, werd er een stilzwijgen in den hemel, omtrent van een half uur. (Dutch)
And when he opened the seventh seal, there followed a silence in heaven about the space of half an hour. (English Revised)
Kaj kiam li malfermis la sepan sigelon, farigxis silento en la cxielo por cxirkaux duono de horo. (Esperanto)
Et quand il eut ouvert le septième sceau, il se fit un silence au ciel d'environ une demie-heure. (French)
Und als es das siebte Siegel öffnete, entstand ein Schweigen in dem Himmel bei einer halben Stunde.
καί ὅταν ἀνοίγω ὁ σφραγίς ὁ ἕβδομος γίνομαι σιγή ἐν ὁ οὐρανός ὡς ἡμίωριον (Greek)
Lè ti Mouton an kase setièm sele a, pandan yon demi (1/2) lè de tan, ou pa t' tande okenn bri nan sièl la. (Haitian Creole)
E quando l’Agnello ebbe aperto il settimo suggello, si fece silenzio nel cielo per circa lo spazio di mezz’ora. (Italian)
Kad atdarīja septīto zīmogu, kādu pusstundu debesīs iestājās klusums. (Latvian) A i tana wahanga i te whitu o nga hiri, kahore he aha i rangona i te rangi me te mea kotahi te hawhe haora. (Maori)
И когда Он снял седьмую печать, сделалось безмолвие на небе, как бы на полчаса. (Russian)
Y cuando él abrió el séptimo sello, fue hecho silencio en el cielo como por media hora. (Spanish)
Na Mwanakondoo alipouvunja mhuri wa saba, kukawa kimya mbinguni kwa muda wa nusu saa. (Swahili)
Och när Lammet bröt det sjunde inseglet, uppstod i himmelen en tystnad, som varade vid pass en halv timme. (Swedish)
At nang buksan niya ang ikapitong tatak, ay nagkaroon ng katahimikan sa langit na may kalahating oras. (Tagalog)

Kingdom of God

1 ܘܚܙܝܬ ܫܡܝܐ ܚܕܬܬܐ ܘܐܪܥܐ ܚܕܬܐ ܫܡܝܐ ܓܝܪ ܩܕܡܝܬܐ ܘܐܪܥܐ ܩܕܡܝܬܐ ܐܙܠܘ ܘܝܡܐ ܠܝܬܘܗܝ ܬܘܒ ܀ 2 ܘܠܡܕܝܢܬܐ ܩܕܝܫܬܐ ܐܘܪܫܠܡ ܚܕܬܐ ܚܙܝܬܗ ܕܢܚܬܐ ܡܢ ܫܡܝܐ ܡܢ ܨܝܕ ܐܠܗܐ ܕܡܛܝܒܐ ܐܝܟ ܟܠܬܐ ܡܨܒܬܬܐ ܠܒܥܠܗ ܀ 3 ܘܫܡܥܬ ܩܠܐ ܪܒܐ ܡܢ ܫܡܝܐ ܕܐܡܪ ܗܐ ܡܫܪܝܐ ܕܐܠܗܐ ܥܡ ܒܢܝܢܫܐ ܘܫܪܐ ܥܡܗܘܢ ܘܗܢܘܢ ܥܡܐ ܕܝܠܗ ܢܗܘܘܢ ܘܗܘ ܐܠܗܐ ܥܡܗܘܢ ܘܢܗܘܐ ܠܗܘܢ ܐܠܗܐ ܀ 4 ܘܗܘ ܢܠܚܐ ܟܠ ܕܡܥܐ ܡܢ ܥܝܢܝܗܘܢ ܘܡܘܬܐ ܠܐ ܢܗܘܐ ܡܟܝܠ ܘܠܐ ܐܒܠܐ ܘܠܐ ܪܘܒܐ ܘܠܐ ܟܐܒܐ ܬܘܒ ܢܗܘܐ ܥܠ ܐܦܝܗ ܀ 5 ܘܐܙܠܬ ܘܐܡܪ ܠܝ ܕܝܬܒ ܥܠ ܟܘܪܤܝܐ ܗܐ ܚܕܬܐ ܥܒܕ ܐܢܐ ܟܠ ܘܐܡܪ ܠܝ ܟܬܘܒ ܗܠܝܢ ܡܠܐ ܡܗܝܡܢܬܐ ܘܫܪܝܪܬܐ ܐܝܬܝܗܝܢ ܀ 6 ܘܐܡܪ ܠܝ ܗܘܝ ܐܢܐ ܐܠܦ ܘܐܢܐ ܬܘ ܪܝܫܝܬܐ ܘܫܘܠܡܐ ܠܕܨܗܐ ܐܢܐ ܐܬܠ ܡܢ ܥܝܢܐ ܕܡܝܐ ܚܝܐ ܡܓܢ ܀ 7 ܘܕܙܟܐ ܗܘ ܢܐܪܬ ܗܠܝܢ ܘܐܗܘܐ ܠܗ ܐܠܗܐ ܘܢܗܘܐ ܠܝ ܒܪܐ ܀ 8 ܠܩܢܘܛܬܢܐ ܕܝܢ ܘܠܐ ܡܗܝܡܢܐ ܘܥܘܠܐ ܘܡܤܝܒܐ ܘܩܛܘܠܐ ܘܚܪܫܐ ܘܙܢܝܐ ܘܦܠܚܝ ܦܬܟܪܐ ܘܟܠܗܘܢ ܕܓܠܐ ܡܢܬܗܘܢ ܒܝܡܬܐ ܝܩܕܬܐ ܕܢܘܪܐ ܘܟܒܪܝܬܐ ܐܝܕܐ ܕܐܝܬܝܗ ܡܘܬܐ ܬܢܝܢܐ ܀ 9 ܘܐܬܐ ܚܕ ܡܢ ܫܒܥܐ ܡܠܐܟܝܢ ܐܝܠܝܢ ܕܐܝܬ ܥܠܝܗܘܢ ܫܒܥ ܙܒܘܪܝܢ ܕܡܠܝܢ ܫܒܥ ܡܚܘܬܐ ܐܚܪܝܬܐ ܘܡܠܠ ܥܡܝ ܠܡܐܡܪ ܬܐ ܐܚܘܝܟ ܠܟܠܬܐ ܐܢܬܬܗ ܕܐܡܪܐ ܀ 10 ܘܐܘܒܠܢܝ ܒܪܘܚ ܠܛܘܪܐ ܪܒܐ ܘܪܡܐ ܘܚܘܝܢܝ ܠܡܕܝܢܬܐ ܩܕܝܫܬܐ ܐܘܪܫܠܡ ܕܢܚܬܐ ܡܢ ܫܡܝܐ ܡܢ ܨܝܕ ܐܠܗܐ ܀ 11 ܘܐܝܬ ܠܗ ܬܫܒܘܚܬܐ ܕܐܠܗܐ ܘܢܘܗܪܗ ܐܝܟ ܕܡܘܬܐ ܕܟܐܦܐ ܝܩܝܪܬܐ ܐܝܟ ܝܫܦܗ ܐܝܟ ܕܘܡܝܐ ܕܩܪܘܤܛܠܘܤ ܀ 12 ܘܐܝܬ ܠܗ ܫܘܪܐ ܪܒܐ ܘܪܡܐ ܘܐܝܬ ܠܗ ܬܪܥܐ ܬܪܥܤܪ ܘܥܠ ܬܪܥܐ ܡܠܐܟܐ ܬܪܥܤܪ ܘܫܡܗܝܗܘܢ ܟܬܝܒܐ ܐܝܠܝܢ ܕܐܝܬܝܗܘܢ ܫܡܗܐ ܕܬܪܥܤܪ ܫܒܛܐ ܕܐܝܤܪܝܠ ܀ 13 ܡܢ ܡܕܢܚܐ ܬܪܥܐ ܬܠܬܐ ܘܡܢ ܓܪܒܝܐ ܬܪܥܐ ܬܠܬܐ ܘܡܢ ܬܝܡܢܐ ܬܪܥܐ ܬܠܬܐ ܘܡܢ ܡܥܪܒܐ ܬܪܥܐ ܬܠܬܐ ܀ 14 ܘܫܘܪܐ ܕܡܕܝܢܬܐ ܐܝܬ ܠܗ ܫܬܐܤܐ ܬܪܬܥܤܪܐ ܘܥܠܝܗܝܢ ܬܪܥܤܪ ܫܡܗܐ ܕܫܠܝܚܘܗܝ ܕܒܪܐ ܀ 15 ܘܗܘ ܕܡܡܠܠ ܗܘܐ ܥܡܝ ܐܝܬ ܗܘܐ ܥܠܘܗܝ ܩܢܝܐ ܕܡܫܘܚܬܐ ܕܕܗܒܐ ܠܡܡܫܚܗ ܠܡܕܝܢܬܐ ܘܠܫܘܪܗ ܀ 16 ܘܡܕܝܢܬܐ ܡܪܒܥܐܝܬ ܤܝܡܐ ܘܐܘܪܟܗ ܐܝܟ ܦܬܝܗ ܘܡܫܚܗ ܠܡܕܝܢܬܐ ܒܩܢܝܐ ܥܠ ܬܪܥܤܪ ܐܠܦܝܢ ܐܤܛܕܘܬܐ ܐܘܪܟܗ ܘܦܬܝܗ ܘܪܘܡܗ ܫܘܝܢ ܐܢܘܢ ܀ 17 ܘܡܫܚܗ ܠܫܘܪܗ ܡܐܐ ܘܐܪܒܥܝܢ ܘܐܪܒܥ ܐܡܝܢ ܒܡܫܘܚܬܐ ܕܐܢܫܐ ܐܝܕܐ ܕܐܝܬܝܗ ܕܡܠܐܟܐ ܀ 18 ܘܕܘܡܤܐ ܕܫܘܪܗ ܝܫܦܗ ܘܡܕܝܢܬܐ ܕܕܗܒܐ ܕܟܝܐ ܒܕܡܘܬܐ ܕܙܓܘܓܝܬܐ ܕܟܝܬܐ ܀ 19 ܘܫܬܐܤܐ ܕܫܘܪܐ ܕܡܕܝܢܬܐ ܒܟܐܦܐ ܝܩܝܪܬܐ ܡܨܒܬܢ ܘܫܬܐܤܬܐ ܩܕܡܝܬܐ ܝܫܦܗ ܘܕܬܪܬܝܢ ܤܦܝܠܐ ܘܕܬܠܬ ܩܪܟܕܢܐ ܘܕܐܪܒܥ ܙܡܪܓܕܐ ܀ 20 ܘܕܚܡܫ ܤܪܕܘܢ ܘܛܦܪܐ ܘܕܫܬ ܤܪܕܘܢ ܘܕܫܒܥ ܟܐܦ ܕܗܒܐ ܘܕܬܡܢܐ ܒܪܘܠܐ ܘܕܬܫܥ ܛܘܦܢܕܝܘܢ ܘܕܥܤܪ ܟܪܘܤܦܪܤܐ ܕܚܕܥܤܪܐ ܝܘܟܢܬܘܤ ܕܬܪܬܥܤܪܐ ܐܡܘܬܤܤ ܀ 21 ܘܬܪܥܤܪ ܬܪܥܐ ܘܬܪܬܥܤܪܐ ܡܪܓܢܝܬܐ ܚܕܐ ܠܚܕܐ ܘܟܠܚܕ ܡܢ ܬܪܥܐ ܐܝܬ ܗܘܐ ܡܢ ܚܕܐ ܡܪܓܢܝܬܐ ܘܫܘܩܐ ܕܝܢ ܕܡܕܝܢܬܐ ܕܕܗܒܐ ܕܟܝܐ ܐܝܟ ܙܓܘܓܝܬܐ ܐܝܬ ܒܗ ܀ 22 ܘܗܝܟܠܐ ܠܐ ܚܙܝܬ ܒܗ ܡܪܝܐ ܓܝܪ ܐܠܗܐ ܐܚܝܕ ܟܠ ܗܘ ܐܝܬܘܗܝ ܗܝܟܠܗ ܀ 23 ܘܠܐܡܪܐ ܘܠܡܕܝܢܬܐ ܠܐ ܡܬܒܥܐ ܫܡܫܐ ܘܠܐ ܤܗܪܐ ܕܢܢܗܪܘܢ ܠܗ ܬܫܒܘܚܬܗ ܓܝܪ ܕܐܠܗܐ ܐܢܗܪܬܗ ܘܫܪܓܗ ܐܝܬܘܗܝ ܐܡܪܐ ܀ 24 ܘܡܗܠܟܝܢ ܥܡܡܐ ܒܢܘܗܪܗ ܘܡܠܟܐ ܕܐܪܥܐ ܡܝܬܝܢ ܠܗ ܬܫܒܘܚܬܐ ܀ 25 ܘܬܪܥܝܗ ܠܐ ܢܬܬܚܕܘܢ ܒܐܝܡܡܐ ܠܠܝܐ ܓܝܪ ܠܐ ܢܗܘܐ ܬܡܢ ܀ 26 ܘܢܝܬܘܢ ܠܗ ܬܫܒܘܚܬܐ ܘܐܝܩܪܐ ܕܥܡܡܐ ܀ 27 ܘܠܐ ܢܗܘܐ ܬܡܢ ܟܠ ܛܡܐ ܘܕܥܒܕ ܡܤܝܒܘܬܐ ܘܕܓܠܘܬܐ ܐܠܐ ܐܢ ܐܝܠܝܢ ܕܟܬܝܒܢ ܒܟܬܒܗ ܕܐܡܪܐ ܀
-- Saint John The Divine, (Aramaic) Rev. 21:10-21

"Needle and Thread: Mind and History"

digital graphic by jH We're in the first stages now of sewing back together the fabric of our identities, lives and livelihoods, nations and environment, social and market structures after the brow-beatings, brainwashings, resultant disabilities, diseases and addictions, and the propagandizing of war including creating soldiers that storm, maim, kill, torture, disrupt and destroy on command and the subversion of meaning in words so they actually convey their opposites, e.g. "unconditional love" as forceful conformity of thought and behavior. Our true histories, individual and national, have been subverted, forgotten, purposefully misconstrued and misrepresented, so that we need massive reeducation in the truth and personal reconstruction of it also. We were forced to abandon and forget the concept, for instance, that this nation has always been by vast majorities God-fearing, -driven, -guided, -sought, and -trusting in expansion and development. Mechanistic atheists did not forge paths West or build towns and railroads out of wilderness, and the radical revolutionary idea is not that a lovingly mysterious Creator of all exists, but that one doesn't -- or maybe did and somehow died or wandered off with the advent of the post-modern era.

Irreplaceably wondrous, mostly ancient monuments and buildings have been demolished, like the Afghanistani Buddhas, that reflected and conveyed the best artistic, cultural and spiritual able realities of other periods. The least we can do is to cherish their memories in photographs and recountings and to replace them with the best of our own time and talents in affirmation, dedication and regret of their material loss, the sorrow-full costs of war and our re-established vigilence against acquisitively murderous insurrections by evil marauders against all that is truly valuable and worthwhile. Disbelief in a higher entity or entities is more a refuge of the desperate and destitute historically than the inspiration, motivation and life-explanation of advanced governments and civilizations throughout the aeons, although the past Soviet Union and present Red China are exceptions in military, economic and expansionist power. Valued art and non-military scientific advancements, however, have not flourished under totalitarian regimes which erase monuments in evidence of more civilized and spiritually-enlightening times and demand for their continuance rigidity of thought and expression enforced, usually brutally, by intrusively watchful and restrictive gendarmes: under cover, uniformed, and well-armed.

digital graphic by jH God does leave us marvellous gifts and clues of what's true and what to do if we attend to and believe in them and that watchful, loving, assisting and guiding hand and eye. We need to be aware and faithfully accepting of paths not really chosen in the grandest dimensions by us but by the divine inside and around us. That isn't necessarily easy or clear of discernment but it may also be delightful, even splendid or uproarious, keeping in mind that our emotions, actions and reactions, abilities and talents are reflections, however murky sometimes, of that everlastingly creative and powerful lifeforce and light energy that are meant to grow and shine, glow in glory of multiplicitous aspects unbound and infinite like a prism of white broken into its many component colors and shadings once gathered in pure and truly accurate reflection. In an analogy, we'd all have halos reflective of that divine light from a radiant planet earth, God's star pupils emerged and triumphant as the many in one, not the few in a paltry brew of misunderstanding and misalignment unattenuated, unattuned and untrue. That requires, of course, that we be "free to be you and me" (Marlo Thomas) as created in foresight and intent, fully actualized and obedient to God's law. Righteous anger, not the rage of material envy and jealousy, is reflective of God's wrath as recorded and experiences throughout our history. It is the object of that that needs to be addressed and corrected. The latter rage is a pathology in individuals that needs treatment and therapy including sometimes seclusion and confinement. Wealth and poverty are diversely representated and not confined to goods and finance. There have always been, for instance, materially rich folk who are dull, dumb and untalented and poor ones with great insight, enlightenment and skills sometimes only known or appreciated and famous after demise.

Quadoshka, Cherokee path to cosmic
consciousness and union with divinity

"O Thou, the One from whom
breath enters being in
all radiant forms.

O Parent of the universe, from your
deep interior comes the next wave
of shining life.

O fruitful, nurturing Life-giver!
Your sound rings everywhere
throughout the cosmos.

Father-Mother who births Unity,
You vibrate life into form
in each new instant."
-- Jesus, "The Lord's Prayer" translated from the Aramaic Gospels, Abwoon d'bashmaya, by Neil Douglas-Klotz

"Apostleship (church development), Artistic Creativity, Counseling, Craftsmanship, Deliverance (from spiritual oppression), Discernment (of God's will), Evangelism, Giving, Faith, Healing, Helping (assisting) Leaders, Hospitality, Knowledge, Interpretation, Leadership, Mercy, Miracles, Missionary Work, Music, Organization, Prayer, Prophecy, Service, Shepherding, Suffering, Singleness (celibacy), Teaching, Tongues, Voluntary Poverty, and Wisdom"
-- Chuck Griffin, pastor of Fairview United Methodist Church, Jonesborough, in "Spiritual Trails," Herald & Tribune 10/27/09, listing the 30 spiritual gifts as taken from NCD NCD discipleship resources

"In the spring of 1908 members of the Fairview community, inspired by the sermon of Rev. Richard Walker, met in the local Quaker Church envisioning another church in which to worship God. They formed a board of trustees who later purchased an adjacent acre of land for thirty-five dollars. With enthusiasm and prayer, with donations of money, materials, and labor, a building was finished in early 1909. Rev. James Robinette of First Methodist Church in Johnson City refused to complete the dedication service and dismiss the people until the remaining debt of two-hundred and fifty-dollars was resolved. The congregation responded with amounts of twenty-five, ten, and two-fifty until only twenty-five dollars was needed. At his request for small pledges, donors began waving one dollar bills all over the church. This collection totaled twenty-six dollars. Pointing to the back of the sanctuary, Rev. Robinette directed: 'Younder is a cracked lamp bowl, go buy a new one, and we will dedicate this beautiful building as the Fairview Methodist Episcopal Church.' The early Vision was fulfilled." -- door plate describing Church founding

Word Preserve -- A Country Rag Index

By Faith Alone, Mirandy c. 1943 (original copyright expired), remaining unattributed text and graphics c. Jeannette Harris and A Country Rag, Inc. October 2009. Jonesborough, TN. All rights reserved.

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