Evening Star Aglow

Walking thru Fog

2012-01-30T18:27:00.003-05:00

Have you ever driven along a highway and there's a wall of fog across the road ahead of you? What happens when you hit that wall that reflects your headlights back to you and obscures everything beyond it's edge? Is there a feeling of impact? Is there a crumple of car echoing through the murk? Does the vehicle stop or even slow down upon contact? Or is there nothing impeding your forward momentum?

Or do you, the driver, take your foot off the accelerator because you are temporarily blinded by the fog?

There are sometimes moments in life when something can impede forward progress in much the same way as that wall of fog. There are days when we believe what others think about us - how they judge our actions and responses - are in essence the real "me."

I grew up the "outsider" kid in school. No one would talk with me. No one would play with me at recess. No one would eat at the same table with me, unless they were forced to by a teacher who felt sorry for me. When that happened, piles of books and bags would separate me from them, a clear indication they were not really with me. I was rejected. I was something no one wants to be near. I was alone and unloved.

It has taken another two decades to undo what the first twenty years of my life ingrained into my thinking. I realize now that I am loved, that I am someone of great value. Those who do not see it, do not see the true value that I carry within me. I also know that NO voice in this world has the right to counter the Love I receive from my Creator.

God does not make anything worthless, no matter what this world may say. In fact, that which this world values - money, power, prestige and popularity - is of little real value.

With God at my side, I am never alone.

I will admit, though, there are still times when that very valuable lesson gets lost in the fog. There are times when people tell me I am worthless. Someone recently took a poll of his friends to convince me that his assessment of my worthlessness was accurate. Why would I take his words over another? Do I value the words of those who belittle my worth over the words of the One who made me and knows truly what I am?

There are days when I hit that fog and take my foot off the accelerator. I stare with eyes that cannot penetrate the fog. I give substance to that fog when I believe the words of another, even when they are not true.

Elanor Roosevelt once stated, very wisely, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." Yet, I can still let myself be convinced that I am worthless from time-to-time. :(

I buy back into the "you are valueless, unwanted and unloved" messages again. I walk into the fog and stop dead on my own. The fog has no power to stop me. It's completely insubstantial. It brings moisture, such as tears to my eyes, but one can walk through it without a scratch. It only stopped me because I allowed it to stop me. I gave the condescending opinions of others the POWER to stop me.

Often we believe that there are only two choices: (1) We either accept the words - acknowledging that we are worthless or (2) we fight them, deny them, argue against them. In either case, we have given power to the lie, making it real and giving it some control over our lives and how we see ourselves. To accept is to make it real to us. To fight it... is ALSO to make it real to us. For would we fight something that is not really there? There is a third choice.

To ignore it completely.

There is a great scene repeated a few times in the Naruto series. One character is a swaggering person of great skill but also great ego. There are times when this character tries to show how much greater he is than another, who is also known for great skill. He will swagger and boast and even try to bait the other into a competition to disprove the words. Then the other will turn to him and ask, "Did you just say something?" This takes the wind out of the other's sails like no amount of boasting or counter-attack. It rendered it completely insubstantial ~ like the fog.

Because I gave it, I can take that power to belittle me away again. I can walk through the fog and realize that the taunting words of others that are meant to cripple me... have no power over me at all.

The next time someone tries to make of me less than I am,
I hope I see the fog for what it truly is
And walk through it without a scratch.

- ESA

Please Don't Be Angry...

2012-01-30T18:26:00.000-05:00

Those who know me well, know I truly enjoy rhyming on Twitter. There are days when I find myself too busy to tweet or write. But there are also other times I need to steer clear from Twitter because, inside, something is not right. While I am still not that comfortable sharing some inner struggles with my readers, this wanted to be shared...

Most of my readers are at least familiar with the Gospel accounts of Yeshua/Jesus the Christ. Many will agree that He loves all of us, even shared company with those who others believed were the dregs of society. He wept with some; He laughed with many. But He would get angry too...

The accounts that spring to my mind are times when His temper flared. He mocked, yelled, even trashed a temple market place. When I look back over the accounts, I find that Christ didn't get THAT mad at every person's sins / mistakes. What really fired Him up was when those who were called to bring people to God (or at least played that part in society), were not doing what they should. Instead, those people were lapping up the benefits of the spotlight, the best seat, the riches, the belief that they were the favored/chosen ones well above all, worthy to judge and belittle the rest. Yet they saw no blemish within themselves.

In a round-about way, that's what brings me to periods of silence on Twitter. I Love Yeshua/Jesus with all my heart. I don't want ANYthing to come between us, even my own stubborn stupidity at times. I understand the ramifications of taking on the twitter name of @JesusSister. While I love Him as dear as a little sister loves, admires, respects and wants to imitate her big Brother, I also know my place: that is OUTside the spotlight.

As any who are in the spotlight can tell you, regardless if it's the entertainment industry, political arena, office politics or even the family favorite: the spotlight feels good. Kudos and praise from others are very, very sweet, like a rich dessert. But like a dessert's calories, the spotlight has a price too.

When someone speaks on affairs of the soul, of God, or starts the path to uplift the spirits of another, we have a responsibility. We need to continue on a path that let's GOD shine - not us. It is so easy - so very, very easy - to be caught up in the euphoria of public praise, even just a few people's high-opinion, that we can start thinking ourselves above them, better than them. So very smoothly we transition from a voice guiding someone to the loving arms of God to the very same hearts and minds of the pharisee's that Christ raged against.

There are days such sweet praise encourages me to continue to share the blessings and nuggets. At the same time, I grow very frightened for I do not want to become like the Pharisee's or similar modern-day preachers and prophets.

Wow wow wow, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you SO much : )
TY, dear one. Lovely words, as always. You truly are a positive influence on many!
I sooooo ℓσνє your poetic gιfтιиg. It cheers and encourages my нєαят. May God bless u in those spectacular of ways. ツ
That was beautiful, TY!
Sincerity of Heart in it's fervency demonstrates the Love of God for all to see...this you do Little Sister,this you do! :)
Your tweet made my day and gave me hope, thank u sister
You really know how to lift a sister up. ツ
Ur words r divine......:)))
she is smart
Amen! And thank you for this.
a message to the Soul so fair.. -you do the fine rhyme
You have been blessed with the gift of being able to write what other can only feel but have no words for.
caring heart, abounding in His Love!
Love your tweets!! :)
@JesusSister is such a blessing. Her poetical gifting is simply marvelous. Please #ff her.
Please follow @JesusSister ... Follower her as I follow Christ..... #agape

I think the last one nails where I am trying to go with this. It frightens me! Glory & praise should be for God, not me. Yes, I do need the encouragement and I sincerely appreciate the kind words sent my way. I know they are from good hearts who are not trying to entrap me. Please don't think I am saying that.

But at the same time, I need to watch myself all the closer when such sweet praise comes. I can not lap it up. I cannot grow fat with it. I cannot sit in the spotlight for the Song in my heart that I sing isn't from me alone.

Humility.

I need humility so bad some days it hurts within and tears flow. I really don't want Christ mad at me. I love Him too much. The spotlight here should never be so sweet that I want it instead of Christ's smile. Instead, I turn to Yeshua/Jesus, away from Twitter, and wait patiently until the sparkles fade and I can sing notes clearly again. Without Him, all my words would be only to bring myself praise, and thus wither on the vine.

Without Christ, my Song will turn bitter
I see myself above brothers and sisters
Instead of beside them where I belong
Where Christ still is today...

- ESA

Good News

2012-01-09T16:34:00.015-05:00

When we turn on the news, read the newspapers, listen to the radio, or check the latest happenings online, chances are there is bad news. A lot of it. In some cases, if there is any good news at all, it's likely to be some tiny micro-feature, while the more-horrific, more-heartwrenching news gets the most coverage. If it's bad enough, you'll hear about it for days.

In fact, it's a sure bet that if a winged unicorn landed in Central Park, starting farting rainbows so everyone there started to smile and laugh in joy, and there was a single pickpocket in the South Bronx (a neighborhood that has, sadly, seen a lot worse) -- and that was the ONLY news in New York City that day -- every single newsperson would be in the South Bronx covering the pick-pocket story. Our media LOVES to report bad news; that is what they tell us we want to hear...

How much of this non-stop bad news colors our perception of our world? We see so much criminal activity, heinous acts, violence, heartlessness, lies, cheating and down-right "evil" - in the hearts of all mankind. It's no wonder so many people are looking forward to the world possibly ending this December.

The truth is that while there is bad news, there is a far greater amount of good news. We just don't see it. We don't hear it. We don't tell it... If you had two bits of news - one good and one bad of equal weight - to tell others, which would come out of your mouth first? Unless we were trying to sell something, chances are the bad news would be told first.

Why not change that?

Why not share all the good news you find around you - everyday - and put dampeners on the bad news? Yes, there is bad news in the world, but what does it serve to share it unless you plan on doing something about it? If you are going to make a positive impact, share THAT news. Tell people how others have helped.

Following last year's tsunami in Japan, share the news that there was global turnout of aid and support. Recall how there was no looting or price-gouging immediately following the quake; or how the elderly volunteered to work at the damaged reactors to spare the young people the radiation exposure.

Following the devastating storms the US saw last year, how many times do we share the inspiring stories of neighbor-helping-neighbor, about people traveling hundreds of miles to rebuild towns? After a hurricane, the residents of a Vermont town that was completely cut off from the world met each day on the town green, went to harvest the fields by hand together, and had a community meal with what they gathered day-after-day until normal resources were back in place.

The more we focus on positive aspects of our lives, the more positive news we find around us. But if we continue to focus on the negative, we spiral downwards and close ourselves from our brothers and sisters, from our neighbors and see only an evil world. The world is our choice. Much of what we see, hear, and experience in this life reflects what our focus is on. If we focus on good news, we find many more blessings in our life.

Yes, that is true. Ask many a psychologist. Ask the One who made us. But if you still don't believe it; try it. You may surprise yourself.

Even the word "Gospel" means "Good News."

On Friday evening, I worked late and picked up pizza on the walk home. The local pizzeria was packed and the take-out line started at the register in the back of the dining room and stretched two-thirds the distance to the front door. The wait was over an hour. And yet... as I left after getting my pizza, I must have dropped my wallet. Someone spied it and gave it to the staff. One of the waitresses literally ran out the door after me shouting my name to return it to me, despite the crowd of people inside. No one complained; a few smiled. And I was very grateful for the actions of both the person who turned it in and the waitress. When I got home, I shared the good news. Despite the long wait for food, the evening felt brighter.

It's a new year; it's a new start.
Focus on the positive.
Find a better world.
- ESA

Green Rectangles (Humor)

2012-01-09T14:12:00.009-05:00

This is from an email that was forwarded to me; I wanted to share it with my readers:

_______________________________________________________________________________

God and St. Francis were having a conversation in Heaven.

God: Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, milkweeds and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But all I see are these green rectangles...

St. Francis: It's the tribes that settled there, Lord: The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers "weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.

God: "Grass? But it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees, only grubs and sod worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?

St. Francis: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.

God: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.

St. Francis: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it, sometimes twice a week.

God: They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?

St. Francis: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

God: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

St. Francis: No, Sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.

God: Now let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?

St. Francis: Yes, Sir.

God: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.

St. Francis: You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it, so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

God: What nonsense! At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so Myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn, they turn these beautiful colors then fall to the ground to form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and shrubs. It's a natural cycle of life.

St. Francis: You'd better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.

God: No!? What do they do to protect the shrubs and tree roots in the winter and to keep the soil moist and loose?

St. Francis: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

God: And where do they get this mulch?

St. Francis: They... cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.

God: Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore! St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?

St. Catherine: "Dumb and Dumber", Lord. It's a story about --

God: Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis.

_____________________________________________________________________________

- ESA

Praise Reports

2012-01-06T08:42:00.006-05:00

Following prayers, sometimes - though not often - I get praise reports. These are when someone reveals how a prayer was answered.

Usually this is from some pastor who has requested prayers for another; sometimes by the person privately.

Even the rare times I "feel" which way a prayer will be answered, there is always doubt in my mind. Thus I will say nothing to the person other than " I am praying for you."

When I first received a praise report where they called it "praise report." I had a jumble of emotions. First, I was glad; it was good news. Then I racked my mind to see if it matched the "feeling" I may have had when I prayed for that particular request. Honestly, I could not remember.

Then part of me argued boastfully, "I do not need to see these praise reports. If God wants me to know, I know. I know God hears all my prayers; that is sufficient!"

But another part of me - a part that was being more honest than boastful - quietly countered this. "No. I do need them. There is still a great deal of doubt in me. I need these praise reports as witnesses. I need some confirmation for the part of me that deals in THIS life existence to see. I need witnesses to testify that God does hear and answers prayers."
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It is a bitter pill for the pride in me to swallow, but it is the plain truth.

It's a part of being human.

-ESA

Prayers

2012-01-06T07:54:00.016-05:00

When someone asks me to pray, I do so ~ often on the spot.

Unlike some, I do not raise my hands that pray aloud or use fancy words. Growing up, no one around me did that. At Catholic Mass we said the same prayers week-after-week, the same responses to the point of memorization. Even when we (rarely) said the blessing before the meals, it was a memorized prayer.

Then there were the really intimate prayers, just one-on-One communications with God, said quietly - silently - behind closed doors in your room.

Since childhood, I have seen other Christians "pray over someone" or "invoke the Holy Spirit" to action. Some of these prayers - though not many - sound like they are barking orders to God.

*Shudder* I don't know if I will ever become comfortable with that.

Then there are ones that I have heard pray aloud - humbly - and ask for God's help. Reverently. These are shining stars to me.

Not often, but sometimes I can feel another praying likewise silently in their heart, like soft, warm air flowing gently outward from them.

When I pray, for myself or for another, mostly it is silent. There are times I pray aloud, in song, in communal prayers, or shared prayers such as at meals with my husband, where we sometimes add things to the blessing, such as "please help those outside on such a cold night tonight."

When I pray for another, I take the time apart whatever I am doing and ... extend my thoughts to God. Then I reach out toward the person for whom I pray. Often I can feel some aspect of the person: vague emotions, such as fear, desperation, sadness, worry, flickering hope... It's not like I read minds; I just feel some small connection with the person. Then I pray - with them, for them - to God, asking for help.

Usually I request something specific, but I always ask that God's Will be done.

I know that sometimes that means the person is not going to get what (s)he wants. Sometimes there is something better in not getting what we want. I ask also that God reach out to the person, give Hope, give Comfort, give Patience, give Courage... whatever is needed in that moment. Sometimes it is also a matter of God reaching out to the people around that person, working through them and helping them as well. It is not easy for a parent of a young child to stand beside a hospital bed not knowing if their offspring will take another breath...Or if the bills will be paid.... Or if they will never see someone they love deeply again... Or that they can get through any number of life's trials...

So many prayers needed...

When I pray, sometimes, but not as often as I would hope to have, I can tell which way the answer will fall. Sometimes there is an immediate ... "feeling" (for lack of a better word) ... that the prayer HAS been answered. The person will get better; the teenager will come back home, the feeling of Hope will return, whatever the case may be... I just get this feeling that it has been accomplished.

Sometimes there is the opposite; it will not come to pass as requested, yet God will be with them and others to help them through this time in life. At times I will be aware of Yeshua / Jesus reaching toward their hearts.

Most times, though, when I pray, I get no response at all, save "fax transmitted successfully..." to use a contemporary analogy. I do not know the outcome, but I know with certainty that God has heard me.

I have also come to realize, without any doubts, that prayers do work outside of time. We understand things in a linear manner. For example, if there's a need, we hear about, pray about it and it's then the prayer is answered.
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Well, God is outside of time. So the prayer may be accomplished even before there is a need. Or we can pray after the answer has been witnessed, and our prayers will be heard and acted upon. So these things may not occur in the order we understand them.
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Thus if I receive a prayer request from several days ago, I still pray then. God works outside of time to answer it.

Yeshua / Jesus prayed the whole time He lived in this world with us. I have no doubts He still prays, even while we pray to Him.
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There is something special and spiritual in prayers.
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We can all access that.
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- ESA

Forgiveness and Fight

2012-01-04T11:13:00.005-05:00

This post is predominantly a response to a tweet I received last night. I had tweeted a rhyme about forgiveness; the response was "Forgiveness in my heart towards my enemies, yes; with Love & a Pure Heart. Forgiveness in court for their crimes, no. #Justice" This initially left me with a lack for words; I realized a tweet was not going to accurately convey what I wish to say. So I will reply here.

One of my favorite sayings is "Humanity asks God why He allows all these bad things to happen; God may be asking Humanity the same question." We are no longer children; we have a responsibility: to help one another. Where there is darkness, we need to bring light; this applies to correcting social injustices, not just "bringing them the Word."

Then there is the command to Love one another and Forgive each other. Where does that apply? All cases, all times, all situations. Does that mean we let "criminals get off free" and continue the acts we are trying to stop? Not exactly...

Forgiveness works at a different level than the guilty/innocent determinations of the court systems. As any good lawyer can tell you, things can be manipulated and presented to the best possible advantage to your case - whether that is beneficial to all or just one. Court and the laws apply determinations based on he actions and consequences that have taken place.

Forgiveness involves the people. Forgiveness' primary function is opening doors, not drawing lines. We are asked to look into the heart of the person, not just the mind. We are asked to continue to love them, not let our anger turn into hate. When we look upon another with anger or hate, we see actions, not the person. We may not even see actions correctly. Lawyers aren't the only ones to manipulate; our emotions do this too. When we look through the eyes of hatred, we see an enemy: someone to hurt, someone to harm, someone to stop and PUNISH. With hatred in our hearts, our perception WILL be skewed; this is basic psychology as well as spiritually founded.

Instead we are called to love them, to listen to them and find the root cause of the situation, then follow through and find positive resolutions. This may include following through with the punishment, the consequences for their actions. But, very sadly, too many stop there. They punish the person and never follow through with fixing the social causes that lead to the action.

For example, in my town, there was a young man that was arrested, convicted and went to jail for larceny - three times in a row, one right after the other. Many who hear this fact would right away turn a cold heart toward that criminal. He obviously did not learn the lesson! He should be thrown in jail permanently! Right?

Now I will divulge some more information in this case. He robbed a supermarket - the same supermarket, the only supermarket in walking distance to his residence. He had no car. He did not rob the cashier; he was convicted of shoplifting. What did he take? The first time was a canister of baby formula. The second time was formula and some small jars of baby food. The third time was a box of generic cereal commonly given to toddlers.

Do you see the pattern?

This young man did not have a job to pay for the items. With a criminal record from the first conviction, he was likely turned down a number of times. But ... he was trying to feed his CHILD! Why did he have to resort to theft? There are social services in place for that right? Well... The first time someone applies for food stamps or assistance, they are turned down flatly - that's the policy. One actually has to know the "game" to use the right terms, fill out the right forms and follow up with the right people. If you don't know the game, you loose. And they don't publish the rules.

Then there are several other factors. There are no social service locations in this town. Public transportation between towns is rare to non-existent. Without a car, one cannot access them. Plus as a father (instead of a mother) it is harder for him to access the services needed to care for a child. It's not a policy; but, sadly, it is a practice.

I don't know what happened to this young man or the child. The local paper stopped reporting after the third conviction. Three strikes and you're out, I suppose... Apparently not enough people cared, for I have seen little changes in the local social structures except to close more locations in the state due to "budget cuts."

Is this the case of all criminal activity around the globe? Certainly not. But if we are truly to Love one another and Forgive, we are also responsible to find the root cause of the activity. Why does it exist? What supports it?

If we did not glamorize the criminal side in movies/TV or let our starlets, corporate heads or politicians get away with actions the minimum-wage workers would not, perhaps the lure would not be so strong. Plus I bet if one were to follow every possible line of connections leading up to criminal activity, they would find not only hearts feeding on greed and hatred, they would also find people who find themselves in desperate situations, ones where they see no other option BUT to turn to the criminal side of society.

Follow these lines; help the desperate. Pray for the Lost. Fix the problems. Too often we punish those we find guilty and sweep the rest under the carpet, forgotten... And like mold in a damp corner, it will only continue to grow into yet more problems involving more people.

We need to not only light the dark corners of our world; we need to open doors so others find another path, starving the serpent that feeds on them.

It is not easy.
But it is worth it.

-ESA

Lessons in Listening

2012-01-02T08:43:00.002-05:00

Yesterday we drove out to my in-laws for New Year's Day. We took my husband's old mini-van, which - like my Jeep - has no working radio. So we filled the long drive with conversation. Part of that conversation, I wish to share here.

At one point, he changed topics and out of the blue says, "You know when you were praying the other day at your mother's, I went in and touched you on the shoulder. It was different than when I touch others when they pray or meditate. Usually there is a sense of peace. There was no peace in you."

I responded, "Well, that was right after I listened to a lengthy tirade from my mother (who spent a great deal of time griping about her neighbors, friends, family members and others), and I was struggling to get some of that negativity out of me."

He added that when I was praying, I was curled up in a ball.

"Most people when they pray or meditate are open. You were closed, cutting off the world. When one is in an open posture, you are open to the universe and all that is in it, including other people. God IS the universe. But you were curled in a ball, cutting off everything. You were struggling, but you were also closed."

I was silent a moment, not sure how to respond and, instead of letting it sink in, I started to reply with how I was struggling to find some Peace after my mom's tirade.

But that even sounded lame in my ears. Who was I fooling? No one apparently. He was right, I was cutting off everything, curling into my shell and hiding. Trying to struggle with the negativity by myself even while I prayed for help.

Where I had fallen silent, he added, "There is nothing wrong with what you have done. Turning to God in prayer and meditation is the right thing to do. But there may have been a better way to do it. That's all. While bowing your head low and being humble before God is a good thing, you also need to be open to God...

"Sometimes that means straightening your posture and raising your head, letting God flow into you and through you. Picture the lotus position some meditate in."

There was nothing I could do but agree with this. His words were right. But there was also resistance in me. Who did my husband think he is? Why is he taking a smarter-than-me stance?

Why did I not see until later that those questions - that resistance - was from my own petty ego?

God works through me; God works through him too. God's Spirit (the Holy Ghost / Holy Spirit) works through everyone, helping us - and helping others through us - learn and grow. We are supposed to help each other; this is part of God's Plan.

I really need to learn to listen more and set my ego aside. Things would be much better in the end if I set aside "me" and listened to God's Wisdom when I encounter it.

-ESA

Resolution

2012-01-01T20:07:00.011-05:00

I made one New Year's resolution many years ago that I've been able to keep - just one. That was to make no more New Year's resolutions.

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Does that mean there is nothing about me that I intend to change?

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Do I not want to loose the extra weight I carry around? Do I not want to become a better person? Do I not want to strive to do more to help my fellow human being in this world?

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Of course not!

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I just no longer wait until one particular day each year to try to change something about myself in a positive way.

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No one knows with 100% accuracy what will happen tomorrow. We can plan, certainly. We can schedule. But none of us "KNOWS" what tomorrow will bring - or even the next hour. So if I truly wish to make a change in myself, I have the moment right in my hands. This very moment, today!

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Now.

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Each day, each moment brings us a fresh new opportunity as pristine as the moment that occurred at midnight local time on New Year's Day. Why wait until the turning of the calendar to allow myself that opportunity and let all the others slip by?

Carpe Diem
Seize the Day
Seize the Moment

-ESA

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

New Year's Eve Tradition

2011-12-31T09:04:00.004-05:00

There is a tradition I have had the pleasure to share at one point in my life. While I was in college, I was dating a young man who's parents are from the Dominican Republic. In my family, New Year's Eve was a time for parties and friends; I was either babysat (as a child) or was the babysitter in my teen years. I had not experienced a "family" New Year's Eve tradition until this.

Just before midnight, the women in the family prepared the glasses. They were cheap plastic champagne glasses, but that did not matter. Somehow we needed to fit 12 grapes into the glasses and then fill them with the champagne. At midnight, everyone drank the champagne and ate the grapes in their glass.

There were 6 green grapes and 6 red grapes. It was explained to me that this represented the good luck and bad luck for the year. Whatever life hands them, they took the good with the bad and trusted that God will work it all out in the end.

What a wonderful thought to start the New Year.

- ESA

I Love You

2011-12-31T08:51:00.004-05:00

Interesting how three little words can make such a difference. When I was raised, "I love you" was reserved for two people romantically involved, and usually only in intimate moments. Yet, there was love all around: parents, siblings, children, grandparents, grandchildren, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins, friends, close coworkers, even strangers that one helps.

Yet rarely did one say, "I love you" outside of romance.
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This holiday, I ran into many who have had a rough year, some - including myself - have even lost people dear to their hearts. As we exchanged handshakes, hugs and holiday greetings, I heard over-and-over another greeting as well: "I love you."

It felt strange; it felt good. It's hard to describe the complex feelings. It's good hearing one is loved; the reassurance is needed when life throws ugly things our way. It's good saying it to dear friends and family; we may not get the chance to say it again. Yet, it was so against the grain of how I was raised.

Why?

We should express our love. Yes, actions do speak louder than words; our behavior and actions should clearly state we love the person. But sometimes, life overwhelms our senses and we do not readily pick up on the body language or notice the kind gestures. Sometimes we really need to hear "I love you."

So...

I love you.
All.

- ESA

2012 - The Final Frontier?

2011-12-30T10:59:00.006-05:00

There is a great deal of speculation that the world will end next year, or that the apocalypse will happen. I can not say what the year holds; I truly do not know. I know 2011 was rough on many - vast numbers in areas of natural disasters, plus economic problems, changing governments, rise in international tensions, even very personal losses - ranging from home foreclosures to death of loved ones.

In my travels for the holiday, I do not think I have come across one person that didn't have some major loss (whether personal or part of a wide-spread disaster) this past year.

What will 2012 bring?

Many hope for the end; many believe they will be swept up in a rapture that will protect them from "hell on earth." Countless numbers wait with baited breath to see if Christ will return and the "evil ones" in our society will "get theirs." Sadly many hope for the end, for death's stillness seems more appealing to them right now than more of what they saw in 2011.

Tribulation is not "the end of the world;" it's a period of change. It can be as violent and traumatic as puberty. Yet, something more mature and a bit wiser rises from that. If we are in a period of "humanity's puberty" there are two things we need to keep in mind:

We grow to become something better than we currently are. We have something to learn and need to change as part of it.
We will continue; this is not the end..

While we enter into the new year, I have actually started to look forward with a positive outlook. I don't know if this will be when Christ returns. I don't know if I will see the Heavens and Earth dissipate and a new world begin. But I know we are taking some serious - and global - steps toward something new.

Change can be violent. Change can hurt. We may loose much - both in terms of personal possessions, ideals / goals, and thoughts / understandings. We may loose loved ones in this process too...

Yet, where we go really has a lot to do with our own mindset - each and everyone of us. This is not a "believe in Jesus and you will be saved" speech. This is practical analysis firmly grounded in both psychological and spiritual studies.

The more we are grateful for what we have, the more we value that which truly lasts - friends, family, connections to each other, love, and God. The more we value what lasts, the more positive our outlook becomes. The more positive an outlook we have, the more we can see our blessings and shake off our desires for material things and passing fame this world tries to sell us. The more we free ourselves from the fetters that bind us (a part of the Lord's prayer), the more we can establish further and stronger connections to the Divine and each other. The more we see good things in each other, instead of evil and enemies, the more we help each other become children of God. The more we help each other become children of God, only through mutual work, the more we become what God created us to be.

On the other hand, the more we focus on fear, the more we will fear each other. The more we fear each other, the further we become. The further we become, the less we understand each other. The less we understand each other; the more we see others as our enemy - lines are drawn. The more lines that are drawn, the more wars there will be. The more wars there are, the more people will suffer and die. The more people suffer and die, the more fear rises to our mind. And the viscous cycle repeats itself as the adversary laughs in delight at our misery.

Remember: Only together we achieve something far greater than the sum of our individual efforts; the adversary seeks to divide for that will block us from achieving God's will: being the Children of God.

In 2012, which will we focus on? Each and every mind DOES make a difference, despite the ego telling us we are too small; despite the world telling us we are not enough. We are enough - as long as we believe. God is with us. When we do God's Will; we will not fail, regardless of what we see with our eyes when the world resists the changes to come.

- ESA

Holiday Brake

2011-12-29T08:09:00.006-05:00

Yes, I mean "brake" and not "break." Last night, I lost the brakes on my old Jeep. Some may curse and gripe that life threw them yet another (and possibly expensive!) problem to take care of -- during the holidays when they were away from home. Last night, I got down on my knees and thanked God and any of His workers that helped me yesterday.

My husband and I were picking up a friend of ours who was home-bound and driving to an inexpensive restaurant to meet a group of other friends we haven't seen in a year or more. On the way, I noticed my breaks suddenly went VERY soft, where I needed to press the pedal deeper each time I "tapped" the brakes in the traffic flow.

I didn't know if we were going to make it to the restaurant. Our friend, an elderly woman, was seated in the passenger side beside me. An accident, even a slight one where the airbag would go off in her face, would likely be lethal to her. We were driving after dark on Long Island; New York drivers - including myself - are atrocious as they cut you off suddenly, weave in and out of traffic and travel at LEAST 20 MPH above the speed limit - including local roads.

We decided to avoid the highway and I cruised -- what felt like a "crawl" -- along a main thoroughfare. I left a LOT of space before me, which only encouraged the other drivers to cut in front of me often. I coasted to a slow stop at each traffic light, annoying the drivers behind me.

I had my hand on the emergency brake the whole time. I apparently drive single-handedly quite well.

It didn't occur to me until just now, while I wrote that last sentence, how often I do that with my relationship with God. There are times when I fly by life, ignoring the limits even - or at least going "a little" beyond them. Yet, when something happens that I realize there IS real danger out there - I hold on God's Hand as tightly as I held on to that emergency brake. God is there, then and when I cruise with no concerns, just as much as the emergency brake that's been in the Jeep all along.

Needless to say, not only did we make it safely to the restaurant, we also had added blessings. A friend that takes public transit was able to find another ride home, as we could not take her as planned. Because others showed up at the restaurant, unplanned, they were able to take our passenger back to her place too. Plus a friend was able to help us get a tow back to my mother's house, much further than our AAA membership would have gotten us. We were grateful for these as well.

There are many blessings in life, sometimes we become too blind in our gripes of what went wrong to see them. Sometimes we also blind ourselves to God's Hand right there beside us in easy reach.

Yet, it is always there.

- ESA

Convert!

2011-12-29T07:41:00.007-05:00

Following Home for the Holiday blogpost, there has been a word bouncing around my head: Convert. I read a tweet where someone suggested I was trying to convert Jews to Christianity, which I denied. I still stand by what I said: I am not called to "convert." Yet what I should have added: I am called to SHARE!

One time at a large fair near us, I was curious about a group that had a tent with "Jesus" written in negative (where parts of the outline were in black and the letters were the same color as the background). Above it read a sign: "Can you see what it says?" So I walked up and said I could. They asked three more riddles, giving me the answers and then I was called into the presence of the woman in the back of the tent. She told me how I was saved by Jesus, how I should now confess all my sins, repent, read the Word and Believe! She read a passage from one of the four main gospels and then had me bow my head while we prayed together for forgiveness. Not once did they ever ask if I believed or was a fellow follower of Christ. Then she instructed me to write down something along the lines of: "Thank You, Jesus, for saving me and opening my eyes today." I, being stubborn, wrote down what was in my heart, "Thank You for the opportunity to take a moment from a fair, and turn to You with another in prayer."

The woman was outraged!

This was NOT what she wanted to see. She scolded me and said that she wanted me to write it over. She even crumpled it up and tossed it away! I noted the stack of written testimonials she had behind her. I refused and got tossed out of the tent. Why didn't I write the words she wanted? My eyes weren't opened that day; I was a Christian already. Or did my eyes open a bit more following that experience?

What I saw saddened me: sharing the Good News (definition of "Gospel") and Love of Yeshua / Jesus had become a ... video game. It was more important to score "points" by counting the number of people you "converted" than it was sharing what we are called to share. Even Atheists use the word "convert" when they convince another to believe as they do.

In complete honesty, I don't think God or Christ gives a fig what "religion" you are. How we behave, how we treat each other and how we work on our relationship with God are what gives us our measure in this life.

Gandhi was a remarkable and noteworthy follower of Christ's teachings; he was also a Hindu! I have no doubt he is sharing in Christ's feast in Heaven among many others.

I believe also that we are called to share. Yes, we can share the Word, but the actual tool we should use to teach is a far greater one: our example. Do we share God's Love for another? Do we reach out in compassion? Do we help another to their feet or step over them as we climb the mountain? Do we condemn another to hell (or wish them there) or do we forgive them and try to see some good inside them despite what the world tells us is there? Do we forgive another even when they don't apologize or "repent"? Do we divide what we believe are sinners and saints or do we Trust God, as Yeshua / Jesus trusted, and let God's Wisdom make the determination? Do we Love all, or just Love the people who we believe deserve our love?

We are not God; nor are we God's Judges. Why do we then continue to divide the world along religious lines and insist that if another is not inside our circle; they are to be condemned? The adversary seeks to divide. For only when we work together can humanity do far more than the sum of our individual efforts. God seeks to unite us; Christ calls us to be brothers and sisters - as ONE. Which calling are we following?

Instead of "converting", we should let God's Love flow through us, showing compassion to another. We should let Christ's Forgiveness flow through us, forgiving each other, where we truly find our own forgiveness. We should let God's Mercy be a light that shines in our actions. We should teach through example... after all ....politicians and salespeople use words.

Love one another.

Feed the sheep.

Forgive.

- ESA

Holiday Travel

2011-12-27T09:37:00.004-05:00

While I travel place to place over this holiday and make even more plans for MORE travel to visit far-flung friends and family, a small thought occurred to me: a comparison of my own holiday travels to that of Yeshua/Jesus. Granted I don't know if Hanukkah was a holiday that involved travel of any great distances, especially in the cooler weather, I recall He did travel for Jewish holidays when possible, including a visit to Jerusalem for the Passover.

The gatherings and travel in those days may not have been that different from our own travels today, with the exception of less worn footwear:

There were plans to be made well in advance of the holiday.
Word had to be sent ahead that one would be traveling and would need a place to stay.
Packing had to be done, and figuring out what had to stay back because it just wouldn't fit.
Plans needed to be made for the business or work that would not be done while one was away for the holiday.
Along the journey, there were "pit-stops", crying children, quarrels, laughter, and long conversations.
Journeys done "in caravan" (a term we still use today) with family and/or friends were always more fun and easier to take.
Sometime overnight accommodations needed to be made en route, because the longer journeys could not be done in one day.
While traveling, one would eat meals with others around you who were complete strangers. One may even share a brief conversation with those seated nearby.
There can also be moments of tedium when stories or games could help while away the hours.
When one arrived, greetings from much-loved but little-seen friends and family rang beautiful in the ears. Hours would be spent "catching up."

When I was a child, we had long journeys to visit family on the holidays and we played traffic-bingo, I-spy, and word games such as naming places that started with the last letter of the last place-name mentioned. We had conversations and recalled stories of bygone days. There was also my parent's favorite game - "Who can stay quiet the longest?" (For some reason, I never won that game. LoL) We ate lunch in diners, restaurants or fast-food establishments, and stayed at hotels en route to the place. When we arrived, we slept on couches or sleeping bags on the floor; we stayed up half the night catching up with aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins.
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When I originally traveled solo by air, I would converse with fellow travelers both at the airports and on the plane. Now...
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I travel with my laptop and paperback to read. There are portable DVD players, smart phones, portable video games, and many more distractions. We do not talk with fellow travelers - whether they are strangers or even our own immediate family. Even during a visit, it's hard NOT to take some time to check email, go online, or get some work done. This is pretty sad as that is what connects us: these shared face-to-face moments together, retelling our past, planning our future, and meeting new people.
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Things are done so fast, so far apart, so ... separate...
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This holiday - and I need to do this too (considering I'm blogging on the breakfast table) - maybe we can all spare some more time re-connecting to those around us face-to-face, whether friend, family or stranger. Golden moments that can last across generations.
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- ESA

Home for the Holiday

2011-12-27T08:13:00.016-05:00

It is sad when there are so many dividing lines in the world. When I stumble across the ones in my own life, I sit back and wonder why they are even there. As I have just mentioned to someone on Twitter, while I was raised Christian, I grew up in a Jewish neighborhood. So wishing others a Happy Hanukkah did not seem wrong to me at all... until I was accused of possibly trying to convert them to Christianity.

*Sigh*

The home where I was raised had a Mezuzah beside the door, like every other house in my neighborhood. It was there when we first moved in. When my dad explained what was inside, it reminded me of the words I read in our Old Testament. No biggie - same writing / same God.

While we were one of three families with tree and Christmas lights, in a neighborhood of over 300, I wondered why we didn't have a Menorah glowing in our front window like all the rest. It was explained that we were Christian, not Jewish. That was the first dividing line.

Around our Easter celebration, I actually looked forward to matzo in the supermarket - I used to nibble them row-by-row as a child for a snack. There was also my neighbor's famous matzo ball soup when we sat down to the Passover Seder with them, unless it fell on Easter, at which point we had family gatherings for our holiday that day. Another fine dividing line.

In December, there were many craft and holiday flea markets held selling goods. My mom was a shop-a-holic. So after-school we were dragged to many different places to attend these events. They were many in the local temples, one at our Catholic school in the gym, and one in a parish hall from a Mormon Church. While I and my siblings towed behind my mother from table to table at these events, I had plenty of time to examine the stuff that hung from the walls. I can't read Hebrew, nor could I then. So I asked my mother about the writing in symbols that looked closer to Chinese in my young eyes than the Greco-Roman letters in which I read/write. She explained they were Hebrew and that is what the Jewish teachings were written in. We don't speak or read it because we were not Jewish. Another dividing line.

When I was still in grade school (where I attended Catholic school from grades 1-8), I received my Confirmation. Friends of ours attended it, even though they were not Christian. We also attended their Bar/Bat Mitzvahs too. In fact, several of our class trips in the later grades were to the temple to learn about Judaism. While I heard rumors that the Hebrew grade school did the same as part of a cooperative program with our Church, the majority of the kids in our area attended public school. They found our ceremonies strange and bizarre while we had some vague notion of what theirs were about. After all, Jesus, the focus of our own religious education, had celebrated Jewish holidays and practiced Jewish customs. But my neighbors understood little about our customs and holidays. Another dividing line.

High school wasn't fun for me; I attended an all-girl Catholic Academy. But unlike grade school, I had to take two school buses. I was picked up by the local high-school bus, that rounded up ALL the high-school children in the area - public, Catholic and Hebrew schools. The majority of the public school kids were Jewish. While there was more than one Catholic high school kids in my town attended, overall, in our neighborhood, we made up less than 10% and had to wear these atrocious uniforms. I believe the Hebrew school had uniforms or a dress-code too, but they were not as glaringly obvious as the plaid skirts, ties and school color blazers and sweaters with the school emblems on them. A very obvious dividing line.

We ALL were dropped off at the public school. Then the public school kids went inside (or at least had to be inside by the first bell). The rest of us stood outside as our second bus would travel from town-to-town picking up the kids for our respective high school. While this may have made sense to some administrator, it was torture for us. We had to wear clothes that distinguished us as "separate" from the others, and we were major targets for bullies, teasing and bad-mouthing both on the bus and at the public high school. Why? Because we were not Jewish. They outnumbered us; we were supposed to always forgive, so they assumed there would be no retaliation as well. We had no other way to get to our school; we had to share the ride on "their" bus. At the public school, we had to stay put while they had the opportunity to walk away when they wanted to. They would ask: Why were we living in the neighborhood anyway? It was a JEWISH neighborhood! Christians were not welcome. Even the local "Y" was a YMHA, not a YMCA.

Why were we there? My father worked hard for a living, went to night school to get a law degree and then worked long hours in "the city" (New York City) to earn a good enough living to have a big house in a nice neighborhood for his family. There was no application indicating what religious affiliation we had to have to buy the house. That would be illegal - this is America, home of religious freedom. Right? The other Christians we knew had homes half the size or smaller. Why could we not live in that neighborhood in a big house for a big family?

In the years to follow, I observed further divisions. It was OK to have friends across that religious line. It may even be acceptable to date across the dividing line, if someone better is not available. But one would never assume it's OK to marry across the dividing line... "Think of the kids; they would be confused," was an argument I heard many times - from both sides of the fence. Yet it's the same God...

*Sigh* That was three to four DECADES ago: over a generation.

I don't hold grudges; I am called not to. What was in the past stays in the past - as it should! Hate and division only begets hate, war and violence. None of which I want.

Times have changed, thankfully for the better. In my lifetime, I have seen a growing acceptance across many lines - race, religious and sexual preferences being predominant. There has become a stronger division in political and income lines in these past few years, though. My heart longs to see these reversed too...

I followed my mom back to Long Island Monday, as we are visiting with friends and family here this week as part of our holiday travel. On the way we stopped at the local strip mall to pick up a few items. In the large window before me, the local florist had a winter-scape display with a large menorah predominantly at the center with the correct number of candles aglow. Tuesday at the bowling alley as we were heading out the door, I spied the manager turning the bulb to "light" the last candle as sunset dimmed an already rainy afternoon. I am still a Christian and will always be, but these sights made me feel like "home for the holiday" more than I can express, as much as the scent of a freshly decorated Christmas tree.

We are all brothers and sisters in this world. One race, one humanity. Why do we keep dividing ourselves?

-ESA

Road to Bethlehem (Story)

2011-12-23T10:16:00.016-05:00

The open-backed pickup truck swerved and bounced over the uneven pavement, mercilessly jostling the passengers seated in the back. One of Mary's hands held tight to the side of the truckbed with a deathgrip, fingers numb in the icy wind. Her other hand rested on her swollen belly, trying to will peace and comfort to her unborn as she tried to keep curses for travels woes from her mind - in vain.

Joe looked up across the truckbed from her. His thin coat wasn't keeping the chill from his bones; it didn't help that the zipper was long since broken. The wind tousled his hair as he reached across and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze over her womb. "Sorry about the car, Mary. Maybe we'll find someone to help fix 'er in the next town."

Mary bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes; damn these hormones! She wanted to rage about the car, the fact that they couldn't afford to get it fixed sooner, the fact that her whole life really sucked right now. Damn it! She was only 17! She should be making plans for the prom, hanging out with her friends after school, and celebrating the holdiay with family. Not this... Not alone...

But she wasn't alone. She had Joe.

Joe wasn't the father of her child; a boy her own age was. But the moment she told him she was pregnant, he dropped her like a rock. Worse, he tarred her reputation - both in school and online. Her friends all told her to get an abortion, but she couldn't. Something inside her soul treasured life too much to kill something. There WAS life inside her; she felt it move, felt the child roll over, knew when it slept. She didn't even know if it was to be a boy or girl. There were no visits to the doctor since the first trimester; there was no insurance to pay for it. Clinics asked too many questions...

Her parents tossed her out soon after the boy dumped her. They called her a slut, a whore. And a lot worse. She went to the local shelter; it was OK the first few days. Then she drew the eyes of some men there. They assumed that if she was already pregnant, it didn't matter; she couldn't conceive twice. And if she was in that position, she must be an "easy girl." She wasn't, but they didn't take "No!" for an answer...

She pushed those memories roughly aside. She had Joe now.

She looked at Joe, studying his features as he watched the winding road ahead. He was older than her, in his late twenties. She was fond of him and found herself fascinated by him.

After the shelter, Mary had wandered from place to place around Philadelphia, looking for a safe place to rest at night and collecting cans from the garbage during the day to earn money for food - a task that grew increasingly difficult as her pregnancy swelled. While she was still living "on the streets" she ran into Joe, who was in town on some business. He offered to take her in and let her stay in his spare bedroom - no strings attached, no questions asked.

And he meant that. He didn't have much himself, just a two-bedroom apartment north of Philadelphia. He cleaned out the second room which was originally used as a improv workshop. He was a woodworker by trade. During the day, he worked as a carpenter with the Allentown union, traveling all over the area on a wide range of construction jobs. When he had some time, though, he loved wittling wood into the most remarkable figurines. Some he would sell through friends at the local flea market, but most were gifts for friends and family. Mary enjoyed the room. It was warm, safe... and now the scent of sawdust and wood shavings brought her comfort.

Given their age differences, he made no advances on Mary. She was someone in need and he was able to help - somewhat. He had little in savings. His income provided food, clothing, heat and paid the bills, but the car was old and temperamental. While he had health insurance, he could not offer any to Mary. The state would not extend Medicaid unless she divulged her personal information; Mary was adamant that she didn't want to answer all those questions - again! So, despite all his pleadings, there was no doctor to see for the sake of her child and herself. He borrowed several books from the library and they poured over the information in them for hours - together.

Another hard bump sent pain shooting up Mary's spine. Damn this road! A shouted apology came from the overcrowded cab of the pickup truck. There were already three people squeezed across the bench seat; the truck owner, his pregnant wife and their small son in a car seat. Thus Mary and Joe had to ride in the back.

"We're here," Joe breathed as he pointed to a sign that read, "Welcome to Bethlehem." Darkness had fallen on the ride and Mary looked through the plumes of exhales as they entered the town. It was decorated for the holiday with many lights and greenery. Cars were piled with gifts and people and there was activity everywhere. This was a good sign.

They tried station after gas station, but there wasn't an available mechanic to be found. It was Christmas Eve after all; everyone had gone home to family. At the last station, the truck owner shuffled his feet as he stood near Joe. "Look. I know it ain't much, but you folks can come over to our place. We haven't much, and are filled up with a houseful of guest ourselves. But we have this huge barn out back. There's a kerosene heater out there for the horses and cattle. Our guests will be willing to spare a couple of cots, and it will be quiet - and private. We'll make sure you are warm and well fed." He nodded in Mary's direction, and added more quietly, "She needs to stop for the night. We can't run around looking for hotels at this hour in this weather. We've got a snowstorm coming from the west and we both know all the hotels will be full on Christmas Eve..."

Numb with cold and the weight of the decision; Joe nodded silently.

"Alrighty then," the man punctuated the statement with a strong rap to the top of the cab's roof, "Let's go home."

Dinner was a busy, noisy crowded sensation. The man's family was large and there was a gaggle of siblings, their children, as well as their parents. Fights between bickering cousins were blocked by teenager's earbuds as they lost themselves either texting or online. Adults traded stories and recipes, laughter and tears. Many hands helped in preparing, serving and cleaning up the dinner. There was a whole separate table set up for the kids in the other room, and yet some of the diners had to take their plates over to the living room to find seating there. It was truly a full house.

Before dessert was even served, Mary was exhausted and desperately in need of some quiet. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. While the chill wore off from her fingers and toes, her fingers still held a puffyness that she frowned about. Her middle ACHED. As much as she was grateful for the hospitality, she wanted AWAY from this loud, large, noisy family.

Joe caught the look in her eyes and spoke quietly with their host. He nodded to his wife and she ran upstairs to gather the extra blankets and down-filled quilts as he led them out to the barn. The man's breath plumed in the air as the falling snow hissed around them. "We're setting you folks up in the manger. We normally open up the loft to folks, but in your condition, miss, you ought not go climbing up ladders."

"The MANGER!" Mary responded aghast. "Is that some kind of joke. I know it's Christmas Eve and all, mister, but that's a pretty bad joke."

The man paused midstep, initially taken aback by her vehement response, blinking owlishly. But only for a moment, then he grinned as understanding dawned. He laughed easily, clearly taking it as though it were a joke on himself. "Oh. Er. No. I think you misunderstand. It's not what you think, miss."

He opened the smaller side door for them and let them enter into the barn. The scents of animals - cows and horses, fresh hay, kerosene and manure - greeted them as they entered. The man snapped the lightswitch beside the door and fluorescent lights overhead glowed to life. The kerosene heater on the well-swept rocky outcropping - well away from the hay - did indeed keep the place warm despite the snowstorm outside.

The man led the guests past a few stalls to an oversized alcove. There was thick beams of wood floor to ceiling on three sides; the forth side opened wide to the walkway they were on. It was both quite deep and wide, roughly the size of two generously sized stalls. The floor was covered thick with hay, at least a foot deep, deeper in the corners.

"This is our manger. It's where the cows drop their calves and the mares drop their foals. Many folks think of the Nativity scene when they hear the word "manger." They think of a feeding trough. It's not, its a place for birthing. A place where life begins!"

At that moment his wife came bustling in with some towels and scented guest soap in her arms. Behind her many of the household guests brought the cots, blankets, a folding table and other items that may make them comfortable. Even a small black and white TV with rabbit ear antenna was dragged out. Mary raised a brow at that antediluvian entertainment, much to the chagrin of Joe. He remembered his grandmother had something like that.

After the family saw them settled, they returned to the house to continue their revelries. Joe passed Mary a plate with a slice of apple pie and a warm mug of apple cider. "They seem like nice folks."

"Yeah." Mary said, too tired to hold up her end of the conversation. Still famished despite the fatigue, she popped a piece of pie into her mouth. Then the first contraction hit. *NO!*

Joe noted her panicked look and immediately dropped to her side, "What's wrong?"

"It's probably nothing."

"No. That was something. Damn. If that car didn't break down we would be home by now. Why did we have to head out today! The ride out here was probably too much for you..."

"Damn it, Joe! I said it's ---" Then her water broke, spreading across the bedspread and down her pants legs. She got up to head the toilet, thinking half-awake that her bladder suddenly gave way, but as she stood another contraction hit. She sank to her cot with a panicked look in Joe's direction. "Joe... I... I think it's time."

He took her hand with one of his, while he tried to dial 911 on his cell with the other. She reached for the phone. "No! No hospital! I can't afford it! No insurance! I don't want questions! I ... I can't go through all that again! Please..."

Torn with indecision, Joe got up and pulled on his coat. "I'm at least going to notify the family. We have to have some help." In a few moments, he was back with the wife and her sister in tow.

The sister immediately went to work - all business. "Now listen Mary, not only am I an EMT, I'm a midwife. We're not going to force you to go to the hospital - though I strongly suggest that you do." She paused to make sure that sunk in; Mary would not budge on her decision. "Then you need to listen to everything I tell you to do; I'll do my best to make sure you both get through this process. Now first we're going to work on your breathing; you'll need to get that down and under control very soon..."

The night was long and filled with the babble of voices and cries of pain. Cows lowed and horses whinnied in response; they knew instinctively the sounds of childbirth and the labor of love that it was. It was a strange place to deliver a baby, but in a place where other life also began -- it seemed to be the most fitting place of all.

In the afternoon, Joe sat down beside Mary's cot. She was holding her newborn son up to her breast to feed him, reveling in the newness of it all. The feel of the milk flowing from her, the ache in her middle and birth canal, the rippling of the womb as it started to shrink, the soft warm weight in her arms, the scent of a newborn child - her child. It was all here. It was all real.

Joe kissed her on her forehead and quietly asked, "What will you name him?"

"I... I don't know."

"Well, he needs a name. He can't be called 'the baby' when he reaches school or he'll be bullied the rest of his life."

Mary chuckled gently, "I know. I just don't know what to name him. My mind is completely blank. I'm so ... tired .. but a peaceful tired. Y'know what I mean."

Joe stifled a yawn and nodded; it was a long night. "Can I make a suggestion?"

Mary looked up and met his eyes. "Sure, but I can't guarantee I'll use it."

"Deal." Joe looked away shyly and shuffled his feet and legs in the hay, settling himself more comfortably beside her cot. "My great-grandfather had an old name that ... well, it fits this kid's situation. They called him "Manny" but that was an shortening of his real name."

"Which was?"

"Emmanuel."

Mary watched Joe silently until he looked up at her again. He was serious. He wasn't making a joke out of the situation. Mary looked away and thought quietly about it.

"It means 'God is with us.'" Joe added. "I just thought after all we've been through, after all you've been through, things still turned out OK. I found you in the city. There was enough money so we can both get by. Even when the car broke down, good people found us. They gave us a ride, helped us out, even gave us a place to stay when we had no where else to go. Even in your stubbornness of not going to the hospital - like you should have - somehow, just SOMEhow, we ended up with a midwife to help you through the delivery. There was even all the stuff you needed for a newborn HERE, because the wife is expecting too. You can't PLAN all this, even if you tried. God is with us."

"Emmanuel..." Mary said softly, trying the name out as she gazed down at the child suckling at her breast.

The babe opened his eyes at that moment, looked up into Mary's, and smiled a beautiful smile. A trickle of milk dribbled out of his toothless grin.

Mary dabbed it with the corner of a feeding cloth the wife had given her. "Emmanuel."

The baby burbled happily.

Mary smiled with tears welling in her eyes. She looked up at Joe joyously, "I think he likes it. I really think he likes the name. We gotta use it. If he likes it. Not many kids get a say in how they're named. Right?"

Joe just nodded wordlessly and hugged Mary's shoulders.

"Emmanuel." Mary said again, turning to her babe, "God is with us - through it all."

Mary / Miriam / Maria

2011-12-23T08:50:00.003-05:00

While I had a busy day at work yesterday, I found my thoughts turned often to Mary, also known as Miriam & Maria, the mother of Yeshua / Jesus the Christ. What was it like for her? What was it like to hear the angel's message? What was it like to go through nine long months of pregnancy ... wondering? What was is like in the days just before delivering the One who will deliver all?

I have no doubts Mary was quite human, though many worldwide worship her with near-goddess - or even fully goddess - reverence. Queen of Heaven. Mother of God. But in the beginning, she was no greater than you or I.

What was it like for her?

To be called to do something by God is both humbling and awe-inspiring. There is this rush that Wow! I can do something great, but there is also the overwhelming questions: Why me? Why now? Why in this way?

I have never had a pregnancy that lasted to full term, but I have seen many women struggling in the last trimester leading up to the birth. There are backaches, swollen ankles and feet, bloating and an underlying desire to "get it over with" near the very end. I doubt humanity has changed that much in over two-thousand years and Mary likely went through the same. Or did she?

There are some that believe that because she carried God's Son that there was no discomfort, there was no pain in the birthing process, there was only the wonder of God surrounding her. I tend to think differently. She was human. Yeshua came as fully-human too. I am certain that which most women experience in pregnancy, Mary did also.

Then there came the time to travel. Why then of all times?!? As she packed her clothes and the items she needed following the delivery, she did not slide into a comfortable heated car seat after promising her mother that she'll call when she arrived. She had to ride upon a lurching donkey. Her mother and family were far away - several days travel - and there was no means to contact them for comfort when her time came. She must have been terrified.

Yet, I am sure there was also this element of Trust. God started this. God will see her through. It did not mean that there was not worry and fear, it just meant that she would be able to get through it. Like we can too with that same Trust.

At the delivery there was pain and blood, as there is in all human births. Unlike the days of my birth, I have a feeling Joseph wasn't "waiting outside" during the delivery. I believe he was there, holding her hand, mopping her sweating brow, stroking back her matted hair, giving her the strength and courage to get through the delivery. There was Love radiating from them as Yeshua drew his first shaky breath of our air and screamed protest as any newborn child fresh from a mother's womb would do.

Then, once cleaned up and wrapped in swaddling clothes to protect the child - items Mary brought with her in preparation for this moment, there was the bond of mother and child. The first time her eyes saw Him; the first moment she held Him in her arms.

There would be cries of hunger, dirty diapers and scraped knees, seeing him through illness, education and play, disagreements as a teenager, and letting her child grow into a man, but in that first moment, there was finally Peace.

Hands Up!

2011-12-18T12:40:00.006-05:00

There is a pretty cool tradition (pun intended) in New England, where I now reside. Starting in October, there are hundreds of 3-4-foot (~ 1 meter) wooden posts impaled all around walkways, driveways and parking lots. They need to be up before the ground freezes and hopefully (but not always) before the first major snowfall.

Those of my readers in colder climes may immediately recognize what these wooden stakes are. Sometimes they are not wood, but metal, and in some places they are a lot higher than four feet (over one meter).

These are snow stakes used to guide shovels and snowplows when clearing the area after a snowfall. Otherwise, we may not know where the boundaries are under a beautiful pristine blanket of snow.

But on to the tradition I've only seen in New England (though I sincerely hope it's elsewhere as it's brilliant and beautifully practical). The tradition goes as this: if you find a mitten, hat or scarf on the ground, sidewalk, parking lot, etc. You locate the nearest snow stake and stick it atop the stake.

This way the owner can return to the area and locate it, even after a few inches of snow has fallen and covered up everything else on the ground.

As I said, very practical.

It's a small, simple way people take a moment out of their own busy lives to help another. Granted not every glove finds the owner by the end of winter, and by spring there are several gloves and mittens waving to the warming sun. But I've also seen mothers rescue a baby's mitten from a snowstake after a child tossed it from the stroller. I've seen an elderly man retrieve his hat that he didn't know dropped from his pocket when the afternoon turned warm.

Little gestures, people helping others without a thought of recognition.

Beautiful lights in this world.

Gift Exchange

2011-12-16T13:34:00.006-05:00

When I was a young girl, around grade school if I correctly recall, I asked my father why we exchange gifts on Christmas. The holiday, after all, was "Jesus' Birthday." What he told me was profound enough to be remembered over several decades, well past his life here. I still remember those words today:

We are supposed to see Jesus in each other, thus we give gifts to Him through each other.

While many of us go through our shopping lists, we may make the effort to find and present the "perfect" gift for the person we see. Yet, are we seeing Christ inside them? Or have we fallen into the habit of gift-giving where Christmas becomes a second birthday for everyone?

I ask my readers this, and pray I don't forgot to do this myself. What WOULD Yeshua/Jesus want? Would He truly desire an iPad or smart-phone? Would He wish for another sweater? Or would the greatest gift we present be our presence?

Think about this a minute.

When Mary sat at the feet of Christ listening to Him and just being there with him, did He not prefer this instead of being served as Mary's sister asked her to do? Does He want gifts that be wrapped in paper or purchased with plastic? Or does He want our company?

Yes, this means taking time in prayer and sitting quietly to listen. It may even involve reading His words.

But it also means seeing Christ in others and giving our time, our ear, our presence to them as an even greater present. It will be one that will be remembered well beyond our years here, truly a gift we CAN take with us.

When we make our plans for the holiday, what will we give others for the one Who's birth we celebrate?

- ESA

Christmas Letter from Jesus/Yeshua

2011-12-16T13:16:00.019-05:00

This belongs with the other two posts below. Again, this is an email received that I wish to share. While it is not my intention to negate the messages of the other two, I wanted to give my readers additional food for thought during the Christmas season.

-ESA

____________________________________________________________________

It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks are taking my name out of the season.

How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children of your own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to celebrate my birth, just get along and love one another.

Now, having said that, let me go on. If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting my birth, then just get rid of a couple of santa's and snowmen and put in a small Nativity scene on your own front lawn or front windows. If all my followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town.

Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was my Father who made all trees. You can remember me anytime you see a tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish, as that demonstrates my relation to you and what each of our tasks are.

If you want to give me a present in remembrance of my birth, here is my wish list. Choose something from it:

Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way my birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to those in prison, hospitals, and/or soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this time of year. I know; they tell me this.

Visit someone in a nursing home or someone home-bound. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.

Instead of writing the President complaining about the wording on cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year. Then follow up... It will be nice hearing from you again.

Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the story of my birth, and why I came to live with you down there. Hold them in your arms and remind them that I love them too.

Pick someone that has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.

Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take their own life this season because they feel so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who that person is, try giving everyone you meet a warm smile; it could make the difference.

Instead of nit picking about what the retailer in your town calls the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish you a "Merry Christmas" that doesn't keep you from wishing them one.

While many feast on Thanksgiving and Christmas and nibble cookies and other treats between the two, many others are hungry, eating cat food or moldy food from the "bargain" racks at the back of the supermarket. Use some of the funds you would buy luxury treats for yourself and pick up a case of canned soup or boxed pasta to donate to the local food bank. The shelves are emptier each year as more people can't afford the basics for their families.

If you really want to make a difference, support a missionary. They take my love and good news to those who have never heard my name. Many also provide means for clean water, better shelters, education, means of income... things many who read this take for advantage in their lives.

Here's a good one. There are individuals and whole families in your town who not only will have no "Christmas" tree, but neither will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know them, buy some food and a few gifts and give them to local churches, police stations, and many charitable organizations who distribute them for you. If you keep your eyes open, many stores now have boxes near the registers waiting for these gifts.

Finally, if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to me, then behave like one of my followers. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in my presence. Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine.

Don't forget, I can take care of myself. Just love me and do what I have asked you to do. I'll take care of the rest. Check out the list above and get to work; time is short. I'll help you, but the ball is now in your court.

And do have a most blessed Christmas with all those you love and remember.

Feel free to share; this was sent by a friend.

I LOVE YOU!

~ Jesus / Yeshua

Ben Stein Commentary

2011-12-16T12:44:00.004-05:00

This is a copy of a commentary I found recently that I wanted to share with the posts above and below. This was written and read by Ben Stein on CBS Sunday Morning.

- ESA

__________________________________________________________________________

My confession:

I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees "Christmas trees." I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are, Christmas trees.
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It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. it doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.

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I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from, that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat!
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Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship celebrities and we aren't allowed to worship God? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where these celebrities came from and where the America we knew went to.
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In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.
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Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her, 'How could God let something like this happen?' (regarding Hurricane Katrina). Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, 'I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentlemen He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?'
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In light of recent events... terrorist attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeline Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found a few years ago) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.
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Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem. (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide.) We said an expert should know what he's talking about. We said OK.
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Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves. Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with 'We reap what we sow.'
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Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell. Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says. Funny how you can send jokes through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing. Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.
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Are you laughing yet?
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Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list beacuse you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it.
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Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.
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Pass it on if you think it has merit.
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If not, then just discard it...no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.
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Ben Stein

Andy Rooney on Prayer

2011-12-16T11:55:00.008-05:00

The following was forwarded to me in an email, and I wanted to share it with my readers. Please read with the next two (above) blogposts with this.

- ESA

_________________________________________________________________________________

A very big amen to this:

Pray if you want to!

I don't believe in Santa Claus, but I'm not going to sue somebody for singing a Ho-Ho-Ho song in December. I don't agree with Darwin, but I didn't go out and hire a lawyer when my high school teacher taught his Theory of Evolution.

Life, liberty or your pursuit of happiness will not be endangered because someone says a 30-second prayer before a football game. So what's the big deal? It's not like somebody is up there reading the entire Book of Acts. They're just talking to a God they believe in and asking him to grant safety to the players on the field and the fans going home from the game.

But it's a Christian prayer, some will argue.

Yes, and this is the United States of America and Canada, countries founded on Christian principles. According to our very own phone book, Christian churches outnumber all others better than 200-to-1. So what would you expect -- somebody chanting Hare Krishna?

If I went to a football game in Jerusalem, I would expect to hear a Jewish prayer.

If I went to a soccer game in Baghdad, I would expect to hear a Muslim prayer.

If I went to a ping pong match in China, I would expect to hear someone pray to Buddha.

And I wouldn't be offended. It wouldn't bother me one bit. When in Rome...

“But what about the atheists?” is another argument.

What about them? Nobody is asking them to be baptized. We're not going to pass the collection plate. Just humor us for 30 seconds. If that's asking too much, bring a Walkman or a pair of ear plugs. Go to the bathroom. Visit the concession stand. Call your lawyer!

Unfortunately, one or two will make that call. One or two will tell thousands what they can and cannot do. I don't think a short prayer at a football game is going to shake the world's foundations.

Christians are just sick and tired of turning the other cheek while our courts strip us of all our rights. Our parents and grandparents taught us to pray before eating, to pray before we go to sleep. Our Bible tells us to pray without ceasing. Now a handful of people and their lawyers are telling us to cease praying.

God, help us.

And if that last sentence offends you, well, just sue me.

The silent majority has been silent too long.

It's time we tell that one or two who scream loud enough to be heard that the vast majority doesn't care what they want. It is time that the majority rules! It's time we tell them, "You don't have to pray; you don't have to say the Pledge of Allegiance; you don't have to believe in God or attend services that honor Him. That is your right, and we will honor your right; but by golly, you are no longer going to take our rights away. We are fighting back, and we WILL WIN!"
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God bless us one and all... especially those who denounce Him, God bless America and Canada; despite all our faults, we are still the greatest nations of all. God bless our service men who are fighting to protect our right to pray and worship God.

Let's make this the year the silent majority is heard and we put God back as the foundation of our families and institutions. And our military forces come home from all the wars.

Keep looking up.

The Reindeer Tale (Story)

2011-12-15T18:43:00.006-05:00

The cold, wet wind howled through the small Pennsylvania town, promising more snow. Joey peered down the road. There was still no sign of his mother. The snow-covered roads were slick, and the old station wagon barely ran in the cold weather. Joey tugged his knit skull cap down, keeping the wind off the back of his neck.

Peter, his little brother, stood beside him on the icy steps of the local school. Mary and Matt, their neighbors, waited with them for Joey’s mother to take them home. Peter was relating the story that his teacher told her class that day.

“I don’t believe a word of it,” Joey said stubbornly. “Mrs. Maybel just tells you little kids things like that because they have nothing to teach just before Christmas break.”

Peter glared at his brother from between his scarf and knit hat. The bright blue pom-pom on top danced in the cold wind. “I think it’s true.”

“Me too!” Mary spoke up from under her scarf. She was in Peter’s class and usually sided with him in these arguments.

“I believe Joey,” Matt argued. “Who ever heard of animals talking on Christmas morning? It’s all make-believe. It’s just a story Mrs. Maybel made up.”

“Is not!” Peter shouted.

“Is so!” Matt and Joey countered.

“Is not!”

“Is so!”

“NOT!”

“SO!”

“Here she comes,” Mary cried.

The sign that read, “Caution School Children,” crested the hill before the old, battered station wagon rose into view.

“I get shotgun,” Joey called.

“Not fair,” Peter whined, “You rode shotgun to school. It’s my turn.”

“Too late. I called it.”

“I want to ride shotgun,” Peter shouted as he shoved his brother.

Joey shoved him back, and Peter fell right into a snowbank. Mary helped him rise to his feet. But by then, Joey was in the front seat next to his mother. “Hurry up, Peter! I don’t want to miss my show! Hey, ma, why can't we get tivo like everyone else?”

As their mother rolled her eyes at Joey's request, pouting Peter climbed into the back seat and pulled the heavy door shut behind him.

“Don’t forget to buckle up, kids. The roads are pretty bad,” their mother called from the front seat. “So, kids, how was school today?” With a shudder, the station wagon pulled out of the driveway and onto the road.

Peter fumbled with the seatbelt for a few minutes. The padded mittens made it difficult. He tugged the scarf down away from his mouth and removed the mitten with his teeth. “Miffus Maybel thaid that animufs talk on Chrifmuth.”

“What was that, Peter dear?”

“Our teacher said that animals talk on Christmas morning,” Mary supplied.

“I told them it isn’t true,” Joey said, “It’s just make-believe.”

“Oh? How do you know?” his mother asked with a grin.

“Huh?”

“Well, you’re not outside early Christmas morning, are you? Maybe the animals do talk. And you just haven’t heard them.”

“It’s true?”

“I don’t know,” his mother said with a shrug, “I’m not outside early Christmas morning either. Maybe they do talk. Or maybe it is just a story.”

* * *

The four children stood together in the woodlands. The snow hissed as it fell through the leafless branches. “Hey, Peter?”

“Yeah, Mary?”

“If the animals do talk like you said, what will you ask them?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. What about you?”

“I don’t know either.”

“How are you clowns going to ask them anything?” Matt inquired. “We’re not allowed outside after dark. There’s no way our parents are going to let us out after midnight.”

“We just don’t tell them,” Joey replied. “You know, sneak out.”

“These woods are scary at night,” Mary said.

“Don’t be such a ‘fraidy cat, Mary,” Joey scolded. “These woods are right behind our houses. And there’s deer and other animals out here at night. We’ll just sneak out and meet here.”

“You sure we can do it?” Matt asked. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“We won’t,” Joey said confidently. “Trust me.”

* * *

The tolling bells chimed from the church in town, proclaiming the start of Christmas morning.

When the last sound of the bells faded beyond the rolling hills, Joey slid out from under his covers. Peter was already out of his bunk and pulling on his boots. Both had worn their jeans and sweaters to bed, ready for their adventure. They fluffed pillows and pulled the covers over them to make it look as if they were still in bed.

Within a few moments, both were bundled up and out the back door with flashlights in hand. As they trudged through the ice-crusted snow to their rendezvous spot, they could make out the brilliant circles of light from Mary and Matt’s flashlights.

All four children had dressed warmly, leaving only their eyes exposed to the biting wind. “Where to now?” Matt asked.

“Let’s go deeper into the woods,” Joey suggested as he led the way with his flashlight.

The children had not gone far when they heard voices in the darkness ahead of them. “Hey! Watch those lights. It’s killing our night vision.” A few eyes glittered in the light from Joey’s flashlight.

The other children pointed their flashlights in that direction and saw a herd of deer grazing. The does nervously moved behind the buck. And the buck lowered his head menacingly at the children, dark-tipped antlers coming within inches of their flashlights. “Again, would you get the light out of our eyes?”

The children obediently lowered their flashlights. The snow on the ground softly reflected the light, enough to make out shapes in the darkness.

“Thank you, children,” said the buck as he continued to graze on the low-hanging tree branches.

The children exchanged wide-eyed looks as their mouths hung agape behind their scarves.

Mary was the first to speak, “You... you can talk.”

“Of course we can, child,” one doe replied. “We always could. You just can’t understand us until these first hours of Christmas.”

“How come Santa’s reindeer can talk all year round, and you can only be heard now?” Peter asked.

“Saint Nicholas’ reindeer are special,” the doe explained.

“It’s a good story,” the buck added.

“Let me tell it. Let me tell it,” another doe pleaded. The buck nodded elegantly and the doe began….

+++ +++ +++

“Many years ago, somewhere in Europe -- I forget where -- there was a herd of reindeer living in the woods just beyond a small village. One day, the herd discovered an abandoned fawn. It was a miracle that he was found so easily, for his coat was as white as the pure snow he burrowed himself into. With the newborn stag’s parents nowhere to be found, the herd decided to adopt him.

“It was strange that one so young was found early in the winter -- Christmas morning in fact. But there were does in the herd who were heavy with unborn fawns and able to give the newborn stag the milk he needed. And on cold winter nights, the herd curled around the young one, to shelter him and keep him warm.

“Near the end of winter, the wolves came down from the mountains, as they did each bad winter. The bucks and does taught the young stag to keep downwind from the wolves. When the wolves finally scented the herd, though, several strong bucks kept to the rear of the herd, keeping the wolves away from the does and the young.

“The seasons turned, and the white stag was raised and well loved by all in the herd. But as he grew in size and strength, he never lost his white coat like the fawns lose their spots. In fact, his coat only seemed to grow more brilliant -- as if the moon had come to rest in his hide.

“One day in the fall, just as the young stag was getting the first of his antlers, something strange happened. There was a grizzly in the area who had gone mad with pain. A careless bow hunter had hit him, and left him suffering. He attacked any animal that came near him, and he suffered all the more when his movements made the shaft further open the wound.

Once the herd knew about the wounded grizzly, they made sure to keep out of his way. But the young white stag went off on his own. He approached the grizzly slowly. The bear’s red-rimmed eyes spotted him and he bellowed a terrible growl. The stag stood still, letting his clear eyes gaze into those of the bear. The bear’s madness began to fade, then pass. The stag then brushed his muzzle against the bear’s wounded side. The shaft fell out and the wound healed.

“Just then, the herd found him and one of the does stepped forward carefully. ‘There you are, young one. Step away from that bear. Didn’t we tell you he had gone mad?’

“‘But he’s alright now,’ he argued. ‘Can you not see that?’

“With amazement, they realized that the bear was healed. Only a small scar remained where the wound had been. ‘Come with us now, young one,’ a buck said quietly. ‘We’re off to find winter grazing, and we don’t want you lost out here.’

“‘Yes, sir,’ the white stag replied and took his place in the herd.

“‘What were you thinking of?’ one of the does scolded. ‘We were worried about you.’

“‘I didn’t mean to worry you. I was only doing my father’s work.’

“The members of the herd exchanged puzzled looks. None knew what the young stag had meant.

“Late that winter, the wolves came again. The stag by then had been taught to defend the females and younger members of the herd. When the chase began and the wolves howled their joy in the hunt, he took his place at the rear. But when the wolves drew closer, he stopped and turned to face them.

“‘He’s going to get himself killed,’ an older buck said. He turned to defend the herd beside the white stag, antlers lowered.

“But the white stag held his head high. ‘Brothers,’ he called out to the wolves. ‘This herd is not yours to hunt.’

“The alpha-male wolf paused and called back across the snowy woodland, ‘Brother, we are hungry and meat is scarce. You have many fine members in your herd. It’s our right and nature’s way that we have at least the weakest from your herd.’

“‘It is your right to hunt, brother. But I have chosen this herd for a special purpose. You shall not hunt here.’

“The alpha-male thought the answer over and replied, ‘As you will. We shall hunt elsewhere.’

“When the young stag turned, he saw the questions in the eyes of his herdmates. ‘I shall leave you for a time,’ he said, ‘But I shall find you when you’re needed. I thank you for raising me.’ With a few bounds, he disappeared into the thickness of the woodland.

“It wasn’t until a few years later that the white stag returned. His coat still gleamed white, and a full set of antlers crowned his head. ‘There’s someone in the nearby village that needs your help,’ he said. ‘A man by the name of Nicholas Claus brings food and toys to the poor children. And each year his burden grows heavier.’

“Since it was Christmas Eve, the herd agreed to help Nicholas. But as they shyly approached his cabin at the edge of the village, they remembered that men couldn’t understand their speech. ‘Stall him until midnight,’ the white stag suggested, ‘and then you can explain your intentions.’

“And that is what they did. A few does lured away the mule that Nicholas used to help carry the food and toys. Some spread the toys around the yard, careful not to damage any. Another hid a sack behind the stable.

“Soon Nicholas and his wife were outside, trying to chase the reindeer off and collect the scattered items. ‘Isn’t it strange,’ Nicholas’ wife said, ‘that the reindeer don’t run away.’

“‘Look there, dear,’ Nicholas said as he pointed at the white stag. ‘That’s the one I said watched me last year.’

“For a few more hours, the couple chased the reindeer about the yard. It soon became a game, and they couldn’t help laughing at the reindeer’s antics. But then, the village church bells rang in Christmas. ‘Enough already!’ Nicholas said. ‘I need to get these gifts to the children.’

“‘We’re here to help you do that,’ one of the reindeer said.

“‘Well why didn’t you say so earlier instead of scattering these gifts?’

“‘Christmas morning, sir. We couldn’t be understood by you until then.’

“‘Oh-ho! That’s right. So what are we waiting for? Let’s get you loaded up. The lot of you will save me several trips back home this night.’

“‘Here, dear,’ his wife said as she dragged some bells from the storage shed. ‘If we put these on the reindeer, the children will hear you coming and know that you haven’t forgotten them.’

“‘Splendid idea!’ Soon the reindeer were loaded up with sacks of gifts piled high on their backs and bells strung about their necks. Nicholas stopped at many villages that night. And everywhere he went, he brought joy to the children. Many children were asleep by now. And they wouldn’t know that he came until the next morning when they saw the gifts he had left.

“The reindeer helped Nicholas through the night. They returned to Nicholas’ home just as the first rays of dawn were lighting the winter sky.

“The white stag waited with Nicholas’ wife and nodded proudly when the herd returned. ‘You’ve done well tonight. This day I will give you two gifts. First, the speech of this herd and its descendants will be understood year round. This way you can work with Nicholas throughout the year. Second, as Nicholas’ work grows to cover the entire world, you shall receive a second gift. Those of this herd shall receive the gift of flight to help bear the burden, but only during my hours -- between midnight and dawn on Christmas morning.’”

+++ +++ +++

“And that,” concluded the doe, “is the story of Saint Nicholas’ reindeer.”

The four children stood in awe, motionless in the soft glow reflected from the snow at their feet. At that moment, a faint silvery sound of jingle bells could be heard above the treetops. The children looked up. Even Joey’s eyes took on the well-known wistful look as he silently mouthed the word, “Santa.”

The buck smiled at the children, “We speak and they remain silent. Go back to your homes, little ones, you know how Saint Nicholas feels about children being awake.”

Matt was the first to recover, “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mr. Deer, uhm, whatever your name is. Let’s go Mary.” He tugged on his sister’s sleeve until she followed him up the path back to their home.

“Yeah,” added Joey, “like he says.” He gave a curt nod in the direction of the deer. “Thanks.” He turned to start his brother moving but found that Peter was already trudging through the snow back toward their home.

When Joey caught up with Peter, he saw that his brother’s eyes sparkled in the reflected light of his flashlight. “Where do you think you’re going in such a hurry?”

“To tell Mom and Dad what we just heard.”

“Are you NUTS!?!”

Peter stopped and turned to face his older brother. “No.”

“Well, you are if you tell them.” He rapped his mittened fist on his brother’s head for emphasis. “Remember we’re supposed to be asleep in our beds. If you tell them we’ll get into trouble, you moron!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Peter replied as he turned and started trudging up the path toward their back door. “Mom and Dad should hear the story too. Everyone should!”

- ESA

Lights in the Darkness

2011-12-15T18:40:00.004-05:00

Last week I got some spare time to decorate the offices at work. When I was done, darkness had fallen outside and I could see the electric Christmas lights reflecting merrily in the blackened windows. It reminded me of a exclamation I heard many years ago: "In this time of such darkness - there are so many LIGHTS!"

As we draw closer to Christmas Day, we also draw closer to the solstice. Here in the north, the days have been getting shorter; I head to work before sunrise and sunset is before 4:30 in the afternoon now, so it's dark heading home. But the closer we get to the darkest time of the year, more and more people hang Christmas lights.

Trees are aglow outside and seen through windows. Lights are strung on bushes, windowpanes and doorways. Little lights flicker in paper bags along driveways and walkways. As one popular song reports: "Even stoplight blink a bright red and green."

While we enter into the darkest part of the year, we do our part to make it a little brighter - a little merrier. When we face other dark times - personally, as a community, as a country or globally - I pray we remember what we do during these seasonal periods of darkness, and do the same: SHARE OUR LIGHT!

- ESA

Christmas Dragon (Story)

2011-12-15T17:21:00.013-05:00

This was likewise written a while ago, but is well worth posting again this time of year. This story was for verbal storytelling. So please, wrap your fingers around a warm mug, sit back and listen to the storyteller of days gone by...

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Who knows the story of the Epiphany? You know, the story of the magi who trekked across the vast, dry desert to bring gifts to the infant Jesus? And we remember the three gifts they brought – gold, frankincense and myrrh. But what if I told you those were NOT the three gifts they bore with them when they started out on their long journey across the sands...

This is the story about the gift of gold that was presented to the newborn Christ.

* * * * * * *

Our story begins way back in a time when dragons still freely roamed throughout lands and flew in the skies over Eastern Europe. There was a small village nestled on the banks of a small river at the bottom of a deep valley. The river’s source was this large, clear lake higher in the mountains where a natural dike held back the water and let only a small amount trickle gently down into the valley below.

On this particular day, a young – and rather bored – blue dragon was bent on mischief. He decided to tear down the dike to see how many villagers could scramble out of the path of the impending flash-flood – much like a child who dams a curbside rivulet and then removes the twigs and mud to see how many ants would be swept away.

Unknown to the blue dragon, there was an older golden dragon higher on the mountaintop observing him. The young dragon latched onto the dike with his claws and pulled away large chunks of earth, opening the way to the rush of water.

The older dragon sadly shook his huge scaled head, opened his golden wings to the bright afternoon sunlight and dove into crisp mountain air. Within a heartbeat, he was atop a small hill that rose beside the river above the village. Two graceful bounds brought him to the foot of the hill opposite the river, where the dragon planted his foreclaws into the hillside. He began to push the whole hill toward the river. The river waters started to gurgle louder as the surface quickly reached the limits of the river’s banks.

The hill would not budge; even for a mighty dragon, this was an unlikely feat of strength. A dull roar thundered up the valley – growing louder by the second. The dragon strained all the muscles in his body as he tried to will the stone beneath the dirt and tree-cover to move. His sharp hearing then caught the terrified shouts and cries from the village downriver.

The golden dragon cast his eyes heavenward in a silent plea. At once, strength beyond his experience filled his muscles, and with a desperate roar tearing from his throat, he cracked the bedrock and thrust the small hill into the river’s path below. A large crash thundered along the valley as dirt, rock and tree tumbled into the churning brown water below. Moments later a deafening roar reverberated up the valley as the main body of the flash flood collided with the newly-made dam.

The sudden strength quickly left the golden dragon. He bowed his head elegantly in thanks, then unfurled his wings to take flight. Leaping into the air, he spied the young blue dragon hurtling toward him, seething in anger.

“Why have you done this?” the blue dragon roared, flinging a claw in the direction of the water rising safely behind the new dam.

The golden dragon sighed. He looked at the younger dragon with pity in his great golden orbs and replied, “If you truly wish to know, follow me.” With a majestic sweep of his wings, the late afternoon sunlight sparkling golden on his sides, the older dragon flew gracefully toward a ledge high on a mountaintop.

Perplexed, the younger dragon followed silently behind him. At the ledge, the golden dragon perched on the bare rocks and surveyed the valley and village far below. When the blue dragon landed lightly beside him, the older dragon turned his golden gaze to him and said, “Furl your wings and listen to my tale.”

+++ + +++

“When I was a young dragon, centuries ago, I lived in the desert far southeast from here. One night, I awoke to discover this brilliant light shinning down into the cave I used as my weir. Moving to the cave’s entrance, I discovered the most remarkable stellar light shining down from the heavens. Curious, as I was in those days, I spread my wings and flew out into the clear star-speckled desert sky.

“During this flight, I witnessed a small band of travelers crossing the desert sands. They kept glancing skyward. At first, I believed they heard the wind from my wings, but they always looked toward the same bright star; a star that even outshone the moon’s glow.

“Careful not to be seen, I swept closer to observe them better. These were men, wealthy by their standards, and far from home by their appearance and dress. They plodded along on their camels, sure in their path across the dry land.

“My curiosity rose a notch and keeping downwind of their mounts, I landed and quietly approached them. ‘Where are you heading so far from your home?’ I asked them in what I hoped was their language.

“Recognition lit in their eyes at hearing my words, though they and their camels shied away from my luminous gaze. ‘We are going to see the king whose star we have seen in the east,’ one replied, sweeping his arm toward the bright star.

“‘We are bringing gifts to present to him,’ another added as he gestured to the parcels tied to their mounts. My nose detected the frankincense and myrrh, and I could see the shapes of scrolls and books.

“This perplexed me somewhat. ‘Why would you travel so far from home, through cold desert nights and hot, dry desert days on such a long journey to give away your treasures to a newborn child? What will you get in return?’

“This question seemed to puzzle them and they spoke briefly among themselves. Then one turned back to me and replied, ‘These are gifts, not trade goods; we expect nothing in return.’

“‘Nothing!?!’ said I. ‘After you spend all your time, resources and efforts to trek across the desert with treasures to give to a babe you’ve never seen? You expect NOTHING in return?’

“Another of the men paused in thought a moment, perhaps trying to understand my perspective. At last he answered, ‘We may receive the new king’s blessings, His Grace.’

“‘Grace?’ I felt my eyes sparkle in sheer curiosity at this. ‘What is Grace?’

“‘It is the greatest treasure of all,’ came the reply.

“I pondered these words for several moments, my tail trashing through the dry air as it does when I’m deep in new thoughts. Then I wanted to confirm my thoughts. I said to them, ‘Let me see if I understand you. If you give your treasures to this newborn king – the one whose star you follow – he will give you this Grace?’

“‘We believe it to be so,’ one stated as the others nodded in agreement.

“I considered this a moment more and asked, ‘If I also go with my treasure and give it to this child king, could I also receive this Grace?’

“The men paused again to confer among themselves and one replied, ‘We believe there is that possibility as well, though we never considered it a gift your kind ever needed, noble dragon.’

“I rose up on my haunches and responded, ‘If this Grace is truly the greatest gift of all, it is something my kind would also desire to posses. I unfurled my wings ready to take flight and asked, ‘Where can I find this newborn king?’

“One pointed skyward and instructed, ‘Follow the brightest star until it shines straight down upon the dwelling where He is. The child will be found inside.’

“I thanked them and permitted the men and the camels to continue on their journey. When they were a safe distance, I leapt into the star-filled sky. In a few wingstrokes, I was back at my weir where I gathered all the gold I possessed. For surely if this Grace was indeed the greatest treasure of them all, it was worth all that I possessed. With my young arms so burdened, I launched myself skyward. Quickly I overtook the men and their slow-moving camels and continued toward our mutual destination far ahead of them.

“Checking the star’s location often, I found myself approaching a small walled town the humans called Bethlehem. But as I started to descend toward the town, the brilliant starlight sparkled like diamonds along my golden hide. The soldiers on the wall saw my descent and shouted the alarm. As spears, rocks and arrows began to hurtle toward me, I dodged and maneuvered around the missiles. All too quickly, it became obvious that I would have to leave or slaughter the city’s defenders. I decided this quest was not worth the fight. Perhaps this new king did not want dragonkind to have this Grace, I thought sadly.

“As I arced over the town to return to the desert, I felt a gentle tug at the fabric of my very inner self. The newborn king knew I was there. But I could not present my own gifts to Him. I sadly shook my head and winged away from the soldiers and their walled town of Bethlehem.

“Soon I met with the foreign men still out in the desert. I landed lightly downwind of them once again and approached them with the gold still heaped in my arms.

“As I related to them what transpired at Bethlehem, I did not tell them about that strange tug to my inner self or the growing warmth of Love and understanding that seemed affixed deep within me. I did not yet know what this new sensation was.

“At the conclusion of my tale, I placed the gold before the men and requested, ‘Take this gold to the newborn king and tell him it’s my gift to Him.’

“The men fell silent and exchanged glances. One was brave enough to ask, ‘And you seek nothing in return?’

“I shook my head, yearning to depart from them for this strange feeling deep inside me needed quiet contemplation.

“The men looked at the heaps of gold on the ground and at their well-burdened camels. At last, an idea bloomed in the mind of one. ‘Wait yet a moment more, noble dragon. For we can not take all our gifts AND your gift of gold with only the mounts we have. Let me give you my gift to take home with you.’ The man that spoke rapidly emptied his parcels of the scrolls and bound books of wisdom and refilled the sacks with my gift. ‘I will tell the newborn king this is your gift. This,’ he gestured toward the small mountain of knowledge, ‘is my gift to dragonkind.’

“This man knew our kind well, for we forever seek to gain knowledge and wisdom, but I did not understand why he was giving it as a gift. I asked, ‘What do you want in exchange for this knowledge given to my kind?’

“He replied, ‘The same I expected from the newborn king, nothing; it is a gift.’

“‘What about His Grace?’ I asked.

“The man climbed up onto his camel and urged it to rise. Then he met my eyes, and I saw the wisdom that filled his own. After a moment of silence, he replied, ‘I believe we have both already received that gift from the newborn king.’

“I sat in the open desert for a long time after that, watching the men follow the brilliant star toward Bethlehem. That new feeling deep inside me never left and is still with me today.”

+++ + +++

When the golden dragon had finished his remarkable story, the blue dragon cocked his head in interest.

“So then you received this gift of Grace?”

The golden dragon nodded elegantly. “You have seen it within my actions today.”

“What about the books and scrolls of wisdom?” asked the blue dragon skeptically. Then he paused and his cobalt eyes widened in sudden recognition. “You’re Him! You’re the one who brought wisdom and knowledge to all dragonkind!”

“Yes, but I also brought a far greater gift to our kind as well,” responded the golden dragon quietly.

“What?”

“His Grace.”

The expression on the blue dragon’s face showed a blend of skepticism and curiosity. “You can share that gift with others? How could I get some? Where do I have to go for it?”

The golden dragon raised his head to peer wistfully at the first evening star shining on the eastern horizon. “You must be willing to give up what you treasure most to find the greatest treasure of all. Then look deep within yourself. When you are ready to receive it, it will be there.”

The young blue dragon peered at the evening star and with a sigh turned to the golden dragon. “But this newborn king you knew is no longer in this world. It was so long ago and humans do not live as long as our kind. How am I to receive His Grace then?”

The golden dragon looked down at the blue dragon and smiled a broad draconic smile, his golden eyes sparkling with an inner Joy. “Oh, that King still lives. That was only the very beginning of His story. Do as I say and you too will find Him and His Grace.”

* * *

Thus concludes the story of the Christmas Dragon and his gift of gold to the newborn Christ.

__________________________________________________________________
- ESA

Snowball Fight (Story)

2011-12-15T17:11:00.005-05:00

Speaking of 1996, that was also the year of the funniest snowball fight I have ever participated in. The following are actual e-mails between my then-boyfriend (now husband) and myself as we battled interstate with frozen balls of virtual water...

********************************************************

To: Tony
From: Tara
Sent: Wednesday, December 11, 1996
Subject: Heads up

Have you seen the virtual snowball fights people have these days. Since there’s not much snow here, I’ll scoop up a mostly mudball (with a little snow) and send it your way.

*** MUDBALL ***

Love,
Tara
______________________________________________________________

To: Tara
From: Tony
Sent: Thursday, December 12, 1996
Subject: Re: Heads up

The mudball sails through the air, heading for its target. Suddenly a flurry of movement. The mudball explodes and returns to you in a shower of dirty snow. Didn't know about the paddle ball paddle did you. While you are dealing with the muddy shower you hear several thumping sounds.

Twenty snow balls (clean) heading your way. Can you say catapults?

Love,
Tony

______________________________________________________________

To: Tony
From: Tara
Sent: Friday, December 13, 1996
Subject: Re: Heads up

Is that what this brown snow is? The watery mud freezes as it reaches the higher elevations of Northeastern PA. The scattering of moisture mixes with the snow already falling here.

A few snowballs (apparently from your catapult) come hurtling from the sky. As the snowballs come screeching groundward, I yank the oversized rubber tarp off of the back of my landlord's truck. The snowballs hit the outstretched tarp, and spring back at an angle right back at you. (Please note, depending on the weather you have there, you'll either get rain, or one heck of hail storm.)

HERE THEY COME....

SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW
BALL....BALL...BALL...BALL...BALL...BALL...BALL...BALL....BALL

Love,
Tara

______________________________________________________________

To: Tara
From: Tony
Date: Monday, December 16, 1996
Subject: Re: Heads up

Seeing the number in incoming snowballs can't be handled with one paddle, I call out a secret weapon kept just for something like this... Just as the snowballs get close, a team of trained beavers jump into action. Each snowball is returned by a whack of a flat beaver tail. Right back at you.

....THUMP.....

Plus another load from the catapults.

Oh by the way the beavers were team one. If you look at the rubber tarp you will find it cut to shreds by a team of Ninja crayfish. Watch out they pinch!

Looking up from the useless tarp you will see a sky full of snow balls heading your way....

Love,
Tony

______________________________________________________________

To: Tony
From: Tara
Sent: Wednesday, December 18, 1996
Re: Heads up

Ah‑ha! Foolish man in far away land!

I am prepared for your return fire. For you see I had plugged in the world's largest space heater up on the roof. Since it took a while to heat up, I had to use the tarp last time.

As the snowballs hurtle to Earth, they melt and turn into a softly falling rain.

As for the crayfish... well, let's just say I shouldn't have left the space heater on unattended. The roof caught on fire and the ropes holding the space heater burnt through. With a crash that reverberated off the lake the space heater came crashing down on the crayfish.

Valiantly attempting to ninja‑leap out of the way, the sheer girth of the world's largest space heater was too much for them. They were cremated on the spot. (Plus the damn heater melted all the snow in the area ‑‑ Oh, well, we have a blizzard moving into the area tonight.)

Heading your way....

By the way, reindeer aren't bright creatures. They assumed that since I'm Irish[-American], I have a running tab at every bar in the area (and there are approximately 527 independent bars in the Scranton area).

Well I told them that they could all buy drinks on me, but that there's not a working rest room anywhere in the state. I gave them directions to your place.

HEADS UP....

Here comes a dozen (plus Rudolf) drunk reindeer with full bladders....

P.S. I wouldn't use the paddle or beavers with this. It could be messy.

Love,
Tara

______________________________________________________________

To: Tara
From: Tony
Date: Wednesday, December 18, 1996
Subject: Re: Heads up

Well looks like I don't have to do anything this time, just sit back and watch (with some amazement)... You've done it all yourself. Let’s see, you set fire to the roof, so much for a place to live.

Now about the crayfish, when the rain from the snow balls hit the space heater (sorry worlds largest space heater) it created a huge steam cloud, covering the whole area. The crayfish got away by diving into the lake (melted by the heat from the you-know-what) and quickly out again on the other side. What you thought was them was just some sticks and leaves on the ground.

For you see the space heater (worlds largest) has now fallen into the lake and shorted out. Zap! So much for the fish, they were electrocuted. But that is not all for you see that between the immense heat and the electricity all of the water in the lake has been vaporized. This with the snow that was already on the ground has resulted in a rapidly rising damp air mass. Can we say thunderstorm (worlds largest); can you say tornado (really big!)? The crayfish are running as fast as they can, dodging lightning and grabbing on to the ground to keep from getting sucked in.

However your neighbors' houses are not so lucky. Every structure around the lake is either fried by lightning (worlds largest) or blown down by the winds (worlds fastest), or smashed by hail stones (worlds biggest) or sucked up buy the tornado (worlds suckyest).

Luckily, due to the cold weather and the fact that the space heater was so short lived the storms die down quickly. Now all you neighbors, (or is it county) are heading your way. Well at least the tar will be hot and you look good in feathers.

Oh but that's not the last of it, through a combination of the bad weather (worlds craziest) your directions (worlds worst) and being very (527 bars worth) drunk. Those reindeer are back and are now giving a new meaning to the name RAIN-(world's yellowest)-deer.

And this is some downpour (527 bars worth)! The lake will be overflowing in moments, now there is a flood. To add to the horror one should not drink and fly. Some of the reindeer have crashed into the few standing trees and structures, exploding like overfull water balloons (those 527 bars worth full bladders). Looks like Santa maybe flying a little short this year.

Let’s see how the score stands, you've, single-handedly, turned the countryside into a smashed, yellow-flooded, reindeer-bit-covered disaster area. You have a nice coat of tar and feathers and Santa may not be making his deliveries do to a shortage of reindeer.

Well some good news: due to the bad weather (courtesy of Tara, world’s biggest tar and feathered klutz), the return I had set into motion timed to arrive now has been delayed, possibly to next round. Which is just as well, as it may be the only source of fresh water for miles around.

Love,
Tony

P.S.: The crayfish are back only slightly cooked, swearing that we are crazy.

********************************************************************

NEWSPAPER CLIPPING:

Bizarre series of disasters have struck a large section of PA.
A series of disasters have struck a large area of PA near Scranton. Everything from bizarre weather, loss of power, riots over bar closings and unheard of attacks by deer population have left a large section of PA under Marshall Law. In Just one day the world seems to have turned upside down. Some are saying the end of the world is coming early. One report blames all the disasters on some strange feathered woman. Here are summaries of some of the reports from this devastated area.

Electric Power To Be Down For Months - The whole power distribution system around Scranton was destroyed today by a massive power surge. So powerful was the surge that over a hundred miles of power lines have been vaporized, substations have melted down and most of the generators have fused solid. One power company official stated, “It was like someone had plugged in the world’s largest space heater and then shorted it out.” It is estimated that it will take months before minimal power is restored to all customers, and a year before all the destroyed equipment is replaced. It looks like dark ages ahead.

!!! Weather Turns Wild !!! - Out of nowhere a massive thunderstorm appeared and flattened a section of land 50 miles in diameter around Chapman Lake. One weather man was heard to say, “It was like it rose right out of the ground, like someone had vaporized a whole lake with the world’s biggest space heater.” The resulting massive lightning, huge hailstones (“the size of beach balls”) and tornadoes have fried, smashed or torn up every thing around the lake. None of the locals could be found for comment. It seems they were out chasing something covered in tar and feathers. The massive and sudden warm front has melted all the snow in area of 4,000 square miles. Looks like it won’t be a White Christmas this year.

Massive Flood of Yellow Water - The Chapman Lake area was hit by a massive flood of yellow water. This water strangely enough is said to smell strongly of liquor, and some hunters say deer. It is assumed that the water is undrinkable. Because of this, all local drinking water is to be assumed contaminated and dangerous to drink. The National Guard is trying to ship in drinking water to the devastated areas.

Over 500 Local Bars Close Do To Lack Of Stock; Local Don't Know How They Will Deal With In‑Laws – It looks like it will be a dry holiday in upper PA. Bar owners say that reindeer have “drunk them dry” the cost going on one person’s tab. It is feared that if this person can’t cover the massive tabs at all of the bars, these bars will go bankrupt and close for good. At the very least there will be no spirits for the holiday. Without the holiday spirits, most locals can’t face their families. Local police are gearing up for a record number of shootings this holiday season.

Exploding Reindeer Attack Residents - Strange reports have come in of reindeer flying drunkenly into local structure and exploding in a great burst of yellow fluid and reindeer bits. So far, due to the other disasters in the area, these reports remain unconfirmed.

Santa May Call Off Christmas Deliveries; Children Go into Depression - A supposed report from Santa Claus states due to the condition of his reindeer he will be unable to make his deliveries this year. It seems some of the deer are so drunk that there is no way they will be sober in time. And if they were, the hangovers would be incapacitating. The rest of the reindeer seem to have exploded in some bizarre accidents. Children, upon hearing this, have gone on hunger strikes, resulting in a crash of the breakfast cereal market. The toy market has also been hit. It may be years before the economy recovers.

Strange Feathered Woman Chased by Hunters - A report of a strange creature that is said to be covered with feathers and smell strongly of tar is being hunted by residents in the disaster area. When pressed for a statement one of the torch-carrying locals stated that THAT thing was the cause of all the strange events in the area. When asked if it was supposed to be the devil, the local said, “No, just a klutz.” It is clear the mental health of the locals has been affected by all that they have been through.

In wrapping up to deal with of these bizarre happenings, the National Guard of three States have been called in and Marshall law declared. One can only hope that nothing more will go wrong. It would take the biggest klutz in the world to make it worse.....

______________________________________________________________

To: Tony
From: Tara
Sent: Wednesday, December 18, 1996
Subject: RE: Heads up

Guess what! Since one of my neighbors (the one with the feathers) had a video cam and filmed all this. The neighborhood won the grand prize: “America's Funniest Home Video of the Decade.” The award was so large I was able to have all my neighbors sent to Florida or the Bahamas as their homes are being rebuilt and re-landscaped.

As for the yellow lake, with the dropping temperatures in PA, it'll be frozen by daybreak. And with the blizzard arriving overnight, it'll all look fresh, clean and white by this time tomorrow.

To top all this off, my ACME MOUNTAINTOP FULL OF SNOW THROWER just arrived in the mail. I wedge this small thing in a crack in one of the many mountains. Push a button and 'CLICK' the thrower expands to the width of the mountain. Then, after enough snow has fallen, I hit the little red button that says, "Don't push this unless you really, Really, REALLY, RRREEEAAALLLYYY mean it!" TWANG!

The mountain top is projected in your direction, held in the grip of the snow thrower, and what's not attached (snow, cars, a few people and animals) come hurtling your way!

HEADS UP!!!!

Love,
Tara

______________________________________________________________

To: Tara
From: Tony
Date: Thursday, December 19, 1996
Subject: Re: Heads up

My jaw drops open, the crayfish scurry for cover, she's done it again... Tara, the disaster that walks...

You are taking a whole mountain and throwing it at me, stopping the mountain suddenly so that all that is not attached comes heading my way. I thought this was supposed to be a snow ball fight; people and cars are not included. You are not winning any brownie points with PA by throwing its citizens and their belongings around. But this isn't going to be the worst of it.

You see those mountains, how do you think they got there? You in the back... Right! The earth moved; massive earth quakes were needed to raise the mountains. Now what do you think throwing one is going to do? The one in green... Yup, I'd say about 6.7 on the Richter Scale. Well, what ever was left standing in northern PA just got shaken down. Congratulations, I think this is the first earth quake in that part of the country since the founding of the US.

By the way, do you know why rockets are launched toward the east? (The crayfish are arranging to evacuate aquatic life from PA.) It’s so they can get a boost from the rotation of the earth. They don't need as much thrust to achieve orbit. Well the denser and more streamlined of the mountain covering is doing just that.

I can see the insurance reports now. “I was just driving down the road, the next thing I know the space shuttle pulled out in front of me.” Most of the cars, people, and houses are going where few have gone before... Tara Trek!

The other stuff, mostly snow dirt and trees goes high but does not quite make it. It falls back, the atmosphere slowing its return. It returns to earth. But while it has been flying around, the Earth has moved below it... in an eastwardly direction... see where I'm heading? Lookup, you will see where your mountain is heading... right down on you!

But before it arrives, remember the thing I said had been delayed due to your weather? Well it did manage to come through. A delivery man comes to you with a small box and asks you to sign for the delivery. After you finished, you very carefully open the box.

Inside is a snow ball and a note. The note says more behind you. You turn around just in time to see the three truck loads of snow balls dumped on top of you. (The delivery people get the hell out of there, lead by a few frantic crayfish.)

Of course being buried under snow balls may not be that bad. You are safe from any locals (who can still walk), that might be hunting you. But that they are not the real problems.

Remember all those reindeer you had blown up or otherwise incapacitated for over a year? Well... there are a lot of very mad and very sexually frustrated does looking for you. Being under that snow isn't so bad now is it?

But wait! There's more! Remember the yellow rain? Remember it smelt strongly of liquor? Well that's because it was mostly alcohol (500+ bars worth). Now take quartz and iron glass created by the lightning, shake together hard (the earthquake) we get sparks! Yup, your lake has exploded and a lot of the surrounding land has burst into flames. Since a lot of the alcohol had soaked into the ground we have geysers of flame all over the place. Northern PA will be burning for weeks. No White Christmas now. Now the snow is keeping your feathers from getting burnt.

But wait, THERE'S MORE!! The does that were looking for you were flying low over the area looking for you when the earthquake struck and the place turned into the world’s largest rotisserie oven. Once more the snow protects you, this time from being pelted to death by hot, well done reindeer steaks.

When they have stopped falling, you might want to stay under a little longer for now by the mountain-load of stuff you sent up has arrived. The hot air and alcohol vapor is compressed and forced out through the sides. A ring of flame sprays out vaporizing the snow for hundreds of miles. The Independence Day aliens are envious; so much for a White Christmas in the northeastern part of North America. All that is left is a small mound of snow with guess who inside. Hint: she smells like tar, looks like feathers.

By the way flying reindeer might be extinct. We don't know if any of the does survived.

Well I have to go help with the disaster relief effort for PA. I hear that the state will be quarantined. Every one is afraid of whatever is causing these events from getting out (is being a klutz contagious?). I will try to send you a news report. Try to stay out of trouble.

Love,
Tony

******************************************************************

NEWSPAPER CLIPPING:

More Weirdness in PA; Bizarre Events Spreading
Not only have more previously unheard of events hit upper PA, but now the area of weirdness is spreading even to earth orbit. Here are summaries of some of the more interesting events. At this point, the reports of a massive earthquake, lakes exploding into flame, massive rings of fire and the sky falling (again) don't even get a yawn.

Mountain Jumps - A mountain on the edge of the area of the bizarre events was reported to jump into the air. Witnesses (though we don’t understand why anyone would be anywhere near this crazy land) reported that the mountain leapt into the air shaking off all of its covering. Houses, cars, people, deer, snow; everything went flying. One local was heard to state “The hills are alive! And they itch!”

Manna Tastes Like Venison - A Scranton, PA area local, who had been pinned under rubble for over 24 hours, had been has been found. The man kept from starving by eating what he called “Manna from Heaven. I was so hungry and cold, I though I would die when suddenly the earth shook the sky lit up and then bits of manna fell from the sky.” The lucky survivor stated. “It was just like fresh roasted venison, very tender.” Meanwhile, most local restaurants (those with a roof) are selling steaks cheap.

Space Shuttle Hit by Volkswagen - The space shuttle had to end its mission early when it was struck by a woman driving a Volkswagen. The woman complained that the shuttle didn't signal as it was passing. Police forces are still trying to write up the accident report.

Massive Crayfish Migration - A massive exodus of crayfish from the affected area has been reported. These usual shy critters appear to be leaving any way possible. It has even been reported that several delivery trucks have been high-jacked by the fear-crazed crustaceans. In a possibly related report, people around the world who are making snow balls have been attacked by crayfish.

______________________________________________________________

To: Tony
From: Tara
Sent: Thursday, December 19, 1996
Subject: RE: Heads up

The mound of snowballs shifts slightly. For a moment one feathered hand (smelling like tar) appears, as the top snowball is tossed aside.

The hand disappears back into the mound. A stick slowly rises in its stead a few minutes later.

Something white unfurls at its top. It looks like ‑‑ can it be? ‑‑ white bikini briefs. Can this strange feathered creature (that smells like tar) actually have been wearing underwear?

Anyway, the snow balls are freezing my rear end. How about getting a rescue squad out my way??? I’M COLD!!! I GIVE UP!!! OK!?

______________________________________________________________
********************************************************************************

-ESA (Tara)

PS: No people, animals, fictional characters beloved of children, homes, lakes, landscapes, or space shuttles were harmed in generating the above fictional work. :D

A Medieval Christmas Poem

2011-12-15T17:02:00.015-05:00

I had written the following poem in 1996, while I was active Medieval recreationist in the SCA. My persona was from Ireland, thus the point of view in the poem. Enjoy a wee bit of humor in the rewrite of a famous Christmas poem:

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How St. Nicholas Has Enough Toys for the World at Christmas

`Twas two nights before Christmas, and all through the castle

Not a sound was heard, not even a rattle.

When outside the city gates there arose such a clatter.

People sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.

Down at the gates was a man very queer

With an army of elves and many reindeer.

He was armored in velvet, a very bright red

With a white fur trim from his toes to his head.

Drawing his sack, they all charged the gate.

The guards cried out, but it was really too late.

They spilt not one drop of crimson blood,

But flowed through the gates like a red and green flood.

The townsfolk cried out in anguish and fear,

“Saints and begorah! The fay are all here!”

Onto banked fires they all through more peat.

But the elves had ignored them, and headed up the street.

`Twas to the toy-maker’s shop that they drew,

The elves, reindeer and Nicolas Claus too.

They spoke not a word, but went straight to work.

They filled all their sacks and turned with a jerk.

Then with a nod, they all faded away,

Without leaving a footprint behind in the hay.

At last the toy-man got out from under his bed.

He just looked around the room and shook his poor head.

The toys were all gone; new supplies in their stead,

plus a bag of silver, two gold, he came out ahead.

Not understanding the fay who disappeared from sight,

At least they paid him for the toys out right.

And the very next night, good children rich and poor,

Found a brand new toy waiting for them at their door.

Favor Returned (Story)

2011-11-24T08:36:00.008-05:00

Originally published in a fanzine, I thought to share this fictional story with my readers as it relates to both gratitude and America's start. It's not a "Thanksgiving" story, but it does start in the winter of 1777...

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Favor Returned

20 December 1777 - We finally reached our winter camp at Valley Forge yesterday. It's defensible and almost pretty with the fresh blanket of snow. I've been assigned to help build the huts, which gives me a chance to wander into the woodlands for building supplies. It's not soon enough, though. The tent leaves me chilled to the bone as my bedroll and clothes are threadbare. While I was in the woods gathering logs yesterday, I spied something. The snowfall made it difficult to see and when I turned my head, all I saw was a flash of something. The figure was too small for a man, but not like any of the fauna I've seen in Pennsylvania before.

21 December 1777 - Some of the men in my regiment also saw the strange beings in the woods. We discussed it around the fire last night and debated whether the wee people were in America as well as back home in our dear Ireland. When the last of the milk rations were distributed, we decided to follow an old Irish tradition. We each set aside a portion of our milk in one tin. Then later we brought the tin into the woods at twilight. Of course, we all hid ourselves to watch like a pack of young lads. And surein' they came! I don't have the words to describe what emerged from some shadowed pocket of the woods. The details were hard to made out for we only saw their silhouettes against the purple/red western sky. But we could definitely tell that they all wore clothes and walked on two legs. They passed the milk tin from one to another and each drank in turn. Even in America, these wee people seemed both similar and so different from us.

22 December 1777 - We found the wee people's footprints in the snow when we returned to the woods. They were not a dream. We agreed then to keep setting aside a portion of whatever rations we had to share with them.

15 January 1778 - My stomach hurts something terrible from the hunger, and my bones ache with cold. Many of the men in my hut developed a rattling, tearing cough and fever. Many are sick in the camp now; foraging and hunting fill my days. Surein' there's a little food left for the wee people with so many camped here. I keep leaving some firecake out for them each night. I don't have time to wait and watch anymore; we have to keep watch that the Torries aren't sneaking up on us.

21 January 1778 - I hear supplies may arrive from Congress soon. The rations are even poorer with so many of us quarantined. Doc says everyone in my hut has "new-mone-ya." I've got a fever, but my cough isn't that bad yet. I can't stomach any more firecakes and the icy water makes my stomach cramp.

29 January 1778 - I dreamed that wee people came into our hut last night. They made us drink some warm broth by the light of the candles they brought. It was bitter and hard to stomach, like the herbs my grandmother gave me when I was sick. It was strange being tended by these folk that acted like men, kind and gentle, yet seemed so strange. Though none of them spoke to us in English, their smiles were warm. Then they stripped us carefully of our nightshirts and bedrolls and placed us in finer, warmer ones. We slept wonderfully well then.

30 January 1778 - They visited again last night, all the wee people. One was female with hands soft and warm when she touched my forehead and pulled back my hair. She was dressed similar to the way our women do. The others were dressed in clothing akin to that which our men wear, wrapped up snugly for warmth. Their eyes shone bright in the candlelight and their skin, where visible, shone like the moon. They quickly and firmly returned us to our original clothes and bedrolls - both cleaned and repaired during the interim. Then we were fed more broth with some potato and peas. There was also honey-sweetened tea. It made me feel a bit stronger and eased my fever and the weight on my chest. I don't think I've ever slept better that night.

12 February 1778 - Doc finally let us break quarantine and leave the hut. I can't believe how many people are gone. Many left, many more died, some are still out foraging. But I'm not as surprised as Doc. He says he can't figure out how we all recovered so well and so quickly - let alone survived - when so many others died. The men in my hut believe my story; some even remember seeing them too. But many others tell me it was just a fever dream.

____________________________________________________________

- ESA

A Response

2011-10-28T09:01:00.033-04:00

There has been many tweets about a particular individual who gets nasty and venomous when he sees people have unfollowed him. While I have read the reports, I also did my homework and researched it myself to confirm this. There have been many requesting I unfollow this individual as well. I would like to share with these people, and all who may be interested, why - after prayerful consideration - I will not.

You are not the first to request I unfollow one person or another, due to a wide range of reasons, including that those I follow may be:

- homosexual
- pagan
- atheist
- jewish
- muslim
- republican
- democrat
- liberal
- conservative
- right-to-lifer
- pro-choice
- Obama supporter
- Obama hater
- OWS supporter
- OWS hater

... you get the idea.

As I state in my blog "About Me" - I'm an open, friendly person who gets along with any type of person and welcome anyone to converse with me on any subject. Everyone brings with them something I can learn no matter their ability, background, education, income, intellect, lifestyle, nationality, position, religious beliefs, or any other lines with which humanity tends to divide itself. The world is filled with wondrous variety and I strive to find the Light and Love that exists in each and every person.

While this particular case is about one person, I still see the trend, a pattern. The call to isolate and banish someone. I grew up the outcast one! I was the outsider! Even the kids that were picked on and beaten up by the class bullies did the same cruel things to me, just to prove to themselves they were not the very bottom of the social pecking order! I hated it. I still hate it! When I see a group rally to do that to someone I cringe. I cry.

I will not unfollow, nor will I promote what is wrong - on either side of this battle. I am here only to erase lines - not draw them. I am here to connect with all of humanity - we are all the same under the skin. I encourage people to shine the Light within and share the Love we all have inside. I will not encourage hate.

If I choose to unfollow, I only do so for two reasons: either they are not following me, and I need to free up some follows to follow others who are interested in interacting with me, or their profile page reads like an advertising column. I get enough sales pitches in my day job and on TV.

I will not condone your reasons for not following one you find offensive; that is your right and your choice. But I recall that Christ was found in the company of tax-collectors, prostitutes, lepers, Romans and those whom others found repulsive and avoided being seen in their company. I choose to follow where He leads, not where others tell me to go.

I choose not to cast a stone.

Thank you for reading this.
May Peace be found in your heart.
May you follow Love from the start.

- ESA

Prayer for the Protesters

2011-10-27T06:01:00.005-04:00

As tensions grow, violence erupts. The scenes from Oakland are tragic and could spur open hatred.

On the other hand, watching Survivor last night, I saw prayer helped one team snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. So I had shared the prayer below with the Movement this morning.

As things continue to escalate, perhaps starting protest gatherings - or even each day - with a simple prayer can help those involved keep some important aspects in mind through the course of events.

The following is a simple prayer designed as an inter-faith request:

We gather here today, with peaceful intentions in our heart.
We ask that we receive wisdom and guidance from the start.
We ask on this day, we set aside greed and hate,
For it is a better world that we try to create.
We ask for inner guidance; let nothing be hurled,
For we are a peaceful group seeking a better world.
(~Anonymous)

Please share; a prayer may make a huge difference.

- ESA

Holiday Pileup

2011-10-23T07:57:00.008-04:00

I can't speak for any high-end stores, as I can't afford to go shopping there, but I've recently heard about Nordstrom's decision not to put up Christmas decorations until after Thanksgiving. I give that notion two thumbs up.

Starting as early as August, holiday goods are out on shelves in stores, piling up Back-to-School, Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. My husband and I have a laugh whenever we pause near the mix & match conglomerate of holiday decorations. Here are a few random combinations of the audible ones we've heard:

- Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus... I want to drink your blood!
- Beware! BEWARE! ... Santa Claus is coming to town.
- Have a holly-jolly Christmas... *Blood-curdling scream!*
- Welcome to the mansion of madness... HoHoHo! Merry Christmas!
- Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer... meet my friend, bloody dagger!
- I'm dreaming of a white... night filled with terror and blood!

Yes, I think taking the holidays one at a time is a good idea.

- Happy Halloween / All Hallow's Eve / All Soul's Day
- Happy Thanksgiving
- Merry Christmas
- Happy New Year

Now can someone pass the pumpkin-glazed turkey stuffed with candy-canes before the ball drops at midnight. :P

- ESA

Furry Fun

2011-10-21T04:42:00.019-04:00

Some of my readers may read the title and think cute little pets. Not quite. I am a fan of anthropomorphic (animals and other non-humans that display human characteristics), otherwise known as "furry." This past weekend, my husband and I attended a furry convention known as FurFright. It was a great time; I saw a few old friends and met many new ones. Most of all, I got my batteries charged and my creative writing got a good kick in the derriere.

Before some of you may think, "Oh, like the one on the TV show CSI?" No. Definitely not like the CSI episode. While I cannot speak for all furry conventions, I would like to take some time here and show you what I see and experience, hopefully giving you an idea of why I enjoy FurFright so much.

Acceptance: This is one of the biggest things that draws me to furry fandom. People accept each other, regardless of outward appearance, background, world location, economic level, sexual preference, religion, political affiliation, nationality and many other lines which humanity divides itself. When you see a wolf sharing a hug with a rabbit, or the lion and ram sitting down in a friendly conversation, it gives hope for the rest of us. We can go beyond the social divisions and see the person deep within, regardless of outward appearances.

Hugs: Growing up, hugs were rare in my life, even among family members or good friends. I find a friendly hug a good thing. It lifts the spirit, shows that you care and others care about you. There is even evidence to indicate that hugs help heal. Even if you are not into being hugged, you can't help but see them at this conference. The people that attend are open, friendly and good-natured. If one doesn't get their share of hugs there, they are purposely keeping to themselves.

Creativity: The furry fandom has a plethora of creativity, in every possible avenue one can imagine. Artwork, costuming and writing are the three biggest ones, and there are many panels on these. Then there are others: film-making, animation, voice-over, sound-effects, podcasting, dancing, drumming, music-making, make-up (costuming, not the stuff from women's magazines), photography, videography, origami, kirigami, wood-carving, sculpture, soft-sculpture, etc. - even ham-radio operations and classic cars that I saw this year. Given our nature, we're very generous with sharing what we've learned with others - furry and non-furry.

Playful: In a world of social rules, regulations and restrictions, it's good to find a place where one can relax and let their playful side out, without the need of drugs or alcohol. At FurFright, one did not need either as an excuse to "be a kid" - even the "gray-muzzles" like myself that carry an AARP card. There is something in seeing the world through a child's eyes; those who have kids or spend time showing kids the world can understand this statement. Even as an adult, we can shed the "worldly weight" of years and be a kid again for a short time. Even the hotel staff were wearing costumed ears by the end of the convention, including the manager. :D We seem to learn more, accept each other more and get along better when we are child-like. That's "child-like", not "childish." Temper-tantrums weren't part of the convention. ;-)

Inter-generational Sharing: Since I mentioned "gray-muzzle" in the prior paragraph, I should add this point here. One morning while I was in the lobby, I got into a conversation with those seated there. One person commented that he was getting too old to stay up all night. I commented that he was still young, to which he adamantly rebuked me with "Well I'm 20 now! I'm not that young any more." LoL Joking aside, what transpired next is what touched me inside. The younger generations actually listened to what the older ones shared, not just in fandom experiences but in life. And then the 20-somethings shared with us what they saw and the nuggets their own short life has brought them, such as a suggestion that every new driver should go out on calls to accidents before they get their full driver's license. What's even more amazing; the older generations LISTENED to the younger ones too. We don't see that often; it's something that should be done though. Age brings wisdom, but every generation has something to contribute. None of us are too old or too young to share and we should be willing to listen to all ages.

Generosity: Sometimes it seems those who have little, give much. While many in the fandom cram four or more into a hotel room to save on the costs of attending a con, very few are stingy in donating. Each furry conference that I know has a non-profit charity to which they donate. Not just a cut of the admission/membership costs, they hold charity auctions where others contribute goods to auction off. FurFright even has a bucket-brigade that goes around and asks for pocket change; it adds up. Most furry conventions sponsor animal-based charities, such as no-kill shelters, greyhound retirement/adoption, aide-dog organizations, wolf park and other natural reserves. FurFright sponsored War Dogs this year, more of which can be found here.

But I think the true nature of our generosity showed a few years ago, again at FurFright. One day security was notified that someone had stolen the head of a costume. Many in the furry community know these heads are handmade and can go for several thousand dollars. But those at the convention were actually shocked; we could barely conceive someone stealing the head. In the fandom, that is equivalent to stealing a person's character. It wasn't an attendee but a hotel staff member that stole the head. While it was the last day of the three-day conference, and many of those attending were "flat broke," a bucket-brigade went around and most turned out all the free money they had and collectively donated it to the head's owner. As each head is completely unique, it would never replace what was lost, but it helped toward getting a new one. When one of us is in need, we give all we can indeed.

Mature content: To some, "furry" is synonymous with "porn." I'd like to clarify something here. It's NOT. While there are some artwork or writings with mature content, the society in general does adhere to strict guidelines: no one under 18. Period. Even in the panels, we checked around the room to ensure that there was no minors. If there was, even our discussions were "G-rated."

Spiritual: There is also a spiritual side to the fandom, including a panel on Furry Spirituality. The fandom follows many different world religions, including Christian, Jewish, Pagan, Neo-Pagan, Wiccan, Druidic, Shamanistic, Buddhist, Taoist, etc. We don't judge each other and even learn more of each other at this con. I would like to share something I took away from this year's panel. We - humanity - are not the body others see in this world. That does not define us. We are the spirit within the body. We are interconnected to each other and this world. And we are far, far greater than what many think being "human" is.

There are some that turn to furfandom, otherkin, Harry Potter or the growing trend of vampires and werewolves because they believe being "human" is just what they see - greed, corruption, cruelty, war, hardship, bullies, and all the evils they see of the world from the news reports. Let's face it, if a winged unicorn landed in New York's Central Park and started farting rainbows and a mugger attacked someone in the South Bronx, and that was the ONLY two events that happened in New York City that day, every news person would be in the South Bronx to cover that story. The media covers all the worst parts of humanity. There are many, many more beautiful things that happen, many bright moments of humanity, but they so often are lost amidst the noise that the media puts out. What we are - what humanity is - is something that can do great good or great harm. It's our choice. We can reflect the darkness, or let our light shine. Some need to step "outside" human perimeters because they only see the darkness there; I don't blame them. Let the light shine where it can, and that light will be brought back to the rest of humanity when they are ready to accept it.

- ESA / (Miss Cellaneous Mouse)

Lion & Little Mouse (Story)

2011-10-13T18:07:00.009-04:00

With the fall colors shining bright, my mind brings this fall story to light. I wanted to share it with my readers. Written in 2008.... feel free to copy/paste & share, as long as you do not receive funds for it anywhere. :D

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Lion and Little Mouse

One day a little white mouse was scurrying about trying to prepare for the cold dark winter days ahead. She was a tiny thing, even for a mouse, but she had a very big heart. Before making her own preparations, she stopped to help others first. By the time she started her own preparations, there wasn't much left in reach.

The little mouse ranged further and further from the safety of her home looking for what she needed to survive the cold dark winter days ahead. On one of these long journeys, she broke through the tall golden autumn grass and found herself practically nose to nose with a lion that had been resting there. Her whiskers quivered in fear and a piercing startled squeak leapt from her throat on its own volition.

Her squeak must have awakened the sleeping lion for he opened his golden eyes and gazed calmly at her. Realizing she had just disturbed the King of all the Animals, the little mouse hunkered down and lowered her round white ears. "I- I'm sorry, Your Great Majesty, for disturbing your rest," she timidly squeaked and quickly turned to scamper off.

The lion's quick paw came down gently but firmly on her little white tail pinning her there, regardless of how fast her paws scrambled against the ground. The poor little mouse was now terrified and she froze in horror with the realization that she was now trapped.

The lion smiled gently and picked the little mouse up by her tail and lightly placed her on his other paw, bringing her closer to his penetrating gaze. Though sunlight sparkled from his own whiskers, the little mouse couldn't peel her eyes from the sharp white teeth that were now clearly visible.

A gentle chuckle rose from the lion's broad chest. "Don't be afraid, little mouse. I am not hungry nor do I toy with you. What brings such a little mouse so far from her home?"

"Oh, please, Your Majesty! I was just preparing for the dark winter days ahead. All the supplies within reach were already gathered near my home so I had to go further out this year seeking what I need. Please just let me go and I'll be on my way. I did not wish to disturb you."

"And why did you not gather what you needed before now, little mouse?"

"I helped some of my friends and neighbors to make sure they were ready for the cold dark winter days ahead. That is why I had a late start. Again, kind Lion, please let me go and I'll be on my way."

"Not so fast, little mouse. Why did you not seek help of your friends and neighbors when you set out to gather your own supplies?"

"I am still young and able. I do not wish to be a burden to anyone as long as I am able to do for myself."

"Ah!" commented the lion. "But now you are far from home and alone. But you are not truly alone; for I am here. I will help you."

"You?!?" squeaked the mouse curling her tiny ears back along her head. "Why would the King of all the Animals want to help a little mouse like me?"

The lion smiled knowingly and lowered the mouse to the ground. "There may be a day when I need your help."

Puzzled the little white mouse tilted her head back to look up at the lion that towered over her; the sunlight danced in his noble mane so very, very far above her. "If there is ever a time when you need my help, I am willing to do so. But you do not need to help me now, Noble Lion."

The lion's smile broadened and his golden eyes sparkled with a secret knowledge. "Even if you believe that now, little mouse, I will help you. It will make your quest easier and you will be ready for the cold dark winter days ahead."

And so the lion helped the little white mouse, lifting her high so she could reach what she needed to survive the cold dark winter days ahead. He even carried the little mouse and her supplies back to her home.

"I thank you, friend Lion," squeaked the little mouse from her doorway. "And if you ever need any help that I can provide, I will gladly do so. But I still cannot think HOW a little mouse like myself will be able to help the King of all the Animals."

The lion smiled knowingly and nodded his acceptance of her thanks and timid offer of help. "We shall see what the future holds."

Some days later, the lion was out on patrol. The nearby man's village was growing and pushing the animal’s territory into a smaller and smaller area. It was near sundown on this day, and the construction site had been abandoned by the workers for the day. Curious as to what they were doing to the land that was once lived in by the animals he ruled, he wandered among the buildings and poked his whiskered white tipped nose here and there sniffing.

It wasn't long before his great forepaw came down on a small steel roofing nail. At first it didn't hurt as much, but the more he tried to work it out, the deeper the nail bit into his paw. At last the pain was too great and an agonized roar escaped his throat.

All the animals heard their King's roar of pain. They all ran, scampered and trotted toward the sound. But each and every one of the animals stopped at the edge of construction site. None would dare enter where humans have tread, even to help their King.

The lion by then was in such pain he couldn't walk the distance back to where the animals were. "Please, help me!" begged the lion. "The nail has bitten deep into my paw and I cannot get it out!"

None of the animals moved, but the crowd observing their King's pain grew as more and more animals arrived at the scene.

At last the little white mouse also arrived. She had to weave in and out of all the other animals to see what the commotion was about. When she saw her lion friend hurt in the middle of what man had made, she turned to the other animals. "Can't you see he's in pain? Why has no one gone to help him?"

"Foolish little mouse!" growled the black panther. "That's man's world. Even I will not go there. If that lion decided to enter into man's world, he's on his own. We will not risk own hides to help him."

The little mouse's whiskers quivered in rage. "How can you say that? Isn't he your King as well as mine? I don't care where he is, I'll go over there and help him." With a swish of her long white tail, she scampered over the embankment and entered the construction site.

In a few minutes she was once again before the lion, her sides heaving from the long run. The lion looked down at the little white mouse with pain in his golden eyes and he looked back across the way at all the gathered animals. "Why is it only you who has come to my aide?" he asked.

"They don't want to enter man's world; they're afraid." She looked around herself with wide panicked eyes. "I'm a bit frightened too, but I remembered my promise to you. I'll help if I can. But I'm so little I don't know if my services will do you any good."

"Yes, you can help, little friend." The lion stretched forth the forepaw. "There is a nail in my paw and it hurts something fierce."

The little mouse scurried over the great paw and tilted her white head as she studied the nail. "It's such a little nail. It's actually a bit smaller than I am." She stood up on her hindpaws and gripped the nail with both forepaws. Then she pulled with all her might.

The lion hissed a moment as the nail pulled free and then sighed greatly in relief. "Thank you, little friend. That is much better." He lowered his shoulder to the little mouse. "Get on my back, little mouse. I will carry you home. You have come a great distance to help me."

She gratefully hopped on his shoulder and climbed the rest of the way to his spine where she comfortably settled herself at the base of his golden mane. As she rode back through the construction site, she noted the look of all the gathered animals. They were not happy. Though they did not want to help the lion, they were not happy that she received special treatment because she did. She felt even more timid and her tummy started to flutter. "Friend Lion......" she began hesitantly.

"Yes, little mouse?" answered the lion as he gazed over his shoulder at her.

"Can I ask something of you... I'm very grateful for all your help before and for the ride now, but what I did was such a small thing. Please don't treat me any differently than the other animals."

The lion paused and fixed the little white mouse with his golden gaze. "But you are the one who came out to help me where no one else would go."

"To me it doesn't matter. I'd help you out of friendship, not for a reward. Please, Your Majesty, I'm just a little mouse, shy like all my kind. Don't you see the way the others glare in my direction. I'm not comfortable way up high like this. Just let me be me and free, that is what I desire."

"If you are certain, so shall it be, my little friend."

So once again, the lion carried the little mouse to her home and let her scamper down to her front door. "I shall not forget this, friend, even if everyone else does. Call on me if you ever need help again."

The mouse smiled warmly. "Thank you, friend Lion. And if I can ever help you again, don't hesitate to call on me."

And they were good friends ever since.

- ESA

Over the Wall (True Story)

2011-10-12T05:38:00.006-04:00

With recent news from the Walk On Wallstreet/99% Movement, there is an old story that came to mind. It is a true story dating back to either the 1940's or 1950's in New York City's Central Park. My grandfather was a "cop" who literally walked the beat in those days. I do not know if he was part of the following event, or heard about it in his precinct. But the event is reported as true... and not that uncommon an occurrence (at least in those days).

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Late one night, two cops were walking the beat along the perimeter of their precinct in Central Park. One of the boundaries between two precincts was this wall that reached just over their heads. Huddled at the foot of this wall, the two cops found a homeless man, wrapped in layers of all the clothes he had with his meager possessions piled around him. They could tell from the snow falling on him, that the man was dead, and the body cooling. His passing must not have happened that long ago as rigor mortis had not yet set in.

The two cops held a quick consultation about what to do. The protocol was to bring the body back to the police house and process it. However, tonight was Christmas Eve and their shift was just ending. If they brought in the body now, they would be there for HOURS filling out all the paperwork, waiting to see if anyone would I.D. the body, and so on. Kids would be waking up early to unwrap presents and wives were waiting at home. There was no time for this.

So one took the shoulders and the other took the feet and, together, they tossed the homeless man's body over the wall into the other precinct.

Well, it just so happened that on the other side of the wall, two other cops were also walking the beat. There was a cry of protest. A scuffling. And a moment later, the homeless man's body was seen sailing over the wall back into their precinct. The others didn't want to extend their shift either.

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Some may find this funny. I know my dad did. He would laugh as he told it, often after drinking a bit too much. When we were kids, he taught my siblings and I to laugh at this too.

Now I find it deplorable!

This was a man - a fellow human being - who died cold and alone on Christmas Eve! They callously threw this man's body back and forth over the wall like an overstuffed ping-pong ball.

I do not know what my readers think when they observe the recent protests. It also doesn't matter if you side with them or not. I hope you, like I, take this as an opportunity to take a good hard look at how we treat others around us, particularly the BOTTOM 1%.

What would you have done on that Christmas Eve?

Do unto others as you would have done unto you.

Do not do unto others as you would not have done unto you.

Whatsoever you do to the least of these, that you do unto me.

- ESA

Soup Story (Story)

2011-09-11T10:28:00.005-04:00

Hearing the cooperation among neighbors following the recent hurricanes, this story came to mine. I wanted to re-post it, written originally in 2008.

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Soup Story

There was once a little village in a time not so long ago. Unlike the days of old when the villagers once worked the land as their ancestors, these villagers got into their cars and traveled a distance – sometimes a great distance to get to the jobs they worked. For you see, these jobs paid for the food on their table, paid for the clothes on their back and paid for the roof over their head. But in those days, taxes weren’t so high, jobs paid well, and there was even time for leisure where the village would hold picnics and parties and music concerts on the village green. Neighbors and friends had time to visit one another and even help one another. It was a close knit community. There was even money to spare, and the village would raise funds to donate to charities, such as the soup kitchens in the nearby cities. This went on for several years.

Then times changes, as they sometimes do. Businesses closed nearby and the villagers had to travel even further from home. Leisure time became less. Neighbors stopped seeing each other as much, but would still make time to attend the gatherings on the village green. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the time to visit each other nor help one another like before. Money was still good, but not as good as before. Donations were slimmer at the charities. This went on for some years.

Times changed again. Businesses were laying off, and taxes were rising. The villagers also changed a bit more inside. It had been some time since they knew their neighbors. There were fewer and fewer people they recognized at the village gatherings. Who were all these new people? Where did they come from? Are they after our jobs? If they take our jobs, how will I feed my family? Will we loose our home?

The the news spoke of terrible things that neighbor did against neighbor, and informed one and all that they should be alert against strangers. The attendance at the village green shrank and eventually the village no longer held these outings. Villagers would get home, stay on their own lot and lock their windows and doors, careful not to be noticed by any strangers in their midst.

Then taxes continued to rise, the price of gas skyrocketed and jobs were cut again. With money only trickling in and signs that there were even tougher times ahead, donations dried up. The nearby soup kitchens closed.

Now, during this time, on a bright autumn day, a minister to the poor and hungry in the nearby city decided to try the local villages to see if he could get any donations to reopen the soup kitchens. But try as he might, house by house, block by block, no one had anything to spare, not even a box of macaroni and cheese or a can of soup. Some would not even open the door because he was a stranger.

It didn’t take this minister long to see that not only had this village come upon hard economic times, but the community itself that once thrived in villages like this had also vanished. Taking the villagers into his heart, he decided to do something to help them before he went on his way to the next village.

Near the town green, he spied an old propane grill on one side of someone’s home. He knocked on the door again and said to the surly man who answered, “Excuse me, sir, I know you do not have any food to spare, but I just noticed your gas grill – the one rusting on the side of your house. Could I borrow it to heat up some food out there on the green? You see, we’re going to have an end of the season party, a nice one with food and games and music and laughter. We could use your grill.”

The surly man eyed the minister suspiciously. “Why? There’s no any gas for it.”

The minister merely shrugged, “I would appreciate it if you let me borrow it all the same. I will certainly return it when I’m done.”

The surly man gazed at the minister a long minute and ran his eyes over the expanse of the village green. A few lonely oak trees stood majestically, brightly colored leaves fluttering to the empty lawn beneath them. There was no one on the green or even outside. “Who’s the ‘we’ at this party? There’s no one out there.”

The minister smiled broadly, “Oh, the whole village is invited; you’re more than welcome to come too. It’ll be fun!”

The surly neighbor’s eyes narrowed and he thought a few moments. “What will you charge for those attending?”

“Charge?” asked the minister shocked. “Why nothing! This is merely a friendly gathering. Friends don’t charge friends when they gather together. But” added the minister, “if you feel like bringing anything out to share, it will be more than appreciated. However, it’s not a requirement.”

The surly man shook his head and the beginnings of a smile crept at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re up to, you old coot. But sure, you can borrow my grill. But I can’t give you anything else…” He stepped out of his home and unlocked the grill from the metal pole that secured it.

“I thank you for your loan, that is more than sufficient,” added the minister as he wheeled the grill across the road and onto the village green.

Next, the minister found another gas grill – this time with an empty propane tank. After a similar conversation, he wheeled the second grill next to the first.

Then he found someone who had a little propane left in his tank a little further from the green and managed to acquire this and connected it to the first grill.

After that, the minister wound his way to some of the neighbors and was able to obtain four oversized pots – two for each grill.

With a little bit of a jig in his walk, the minster then went in search of water. “Just a little tap water will do just fine” he told them. Soon he had all four of the borrowed pots full.

By now, the villagers had become very curious. Even though they were suspicious of this stranger in their midst, what kind of harm could he do with four large pots of water, two gas grills and barely enough propane to light one grill for two minutes. They started to gather on the green, keeping their distance from this strange minister and each other, but curious one and the same.

The minister looked up from his work as he finished pouring the last of the water into the forth pot. He smiled broadly and pointed to the nearby picnic tables that had become grey and weathered and long since unused. “It’s going to take some time before the soup will be ready. Perhaps you could sit there and play some games until then.”

The villagers looked wide-eyed at the tables and back to the minister. “There’s no games over there,” one of the villagers called back.

The minister looked over at the tables as if surprised. “Oh, I haven’t gotten them yet. Does anyone know who would be willing to loan us some cards or maybe a board game we can play until the soup is ready?”

“I have some cards I can bring out,” one villager called back and hurried back to her home.

“My kids have some fun board games,” replied another and he hurried off in a different direction.

In no time there were quite a few villagers out on the green on this nice sunny autumn day. Some brought a baseball, bat and gloves and started an impromptu game in one corner; others were playing dodgeball or tag, while those gathered around the picnic tables watched or played the various games that had started there.

In the meantime the minister went out again, asking house to house for some salt, pepper, and common herbs and seasonings. These he added to the cold water in the four large pots above the two unlit grills.

A young man, at the prompting of some neighbors went over to the minister. “How do you expect to heat this soup without any propane?”

The minister tapped the gauge of one tank -- just under a sixteenth of a tank. “This is enough to start. But if someone could donate a little more, I would greatly appreciate it. It will heat up the soup that much faster.”

The young man, smiled and almost laughed. “I’d say it would….” He paused and glanced over at his family. “Say, I have about half a tank at home. This is probably the last time we’d have to use it. I’ll bring it over.”

The minister grinned broadly, “Thank you.”

By the time the young man walked back to the green with the propane tank on his shoulder, a second villager was heading out to get his. Soon the two grills were lit and a vapor of steam wafted off the surface of the contents of the four pots.

A middle-aged woman wandered over as minister was stirring with a long-handled wooden spoon he managed to borrow from somewhere. She glanced into the pots with a knowing eye and commented, “That’s a mighty thin soup you’ve got there.”

“Yes,” replied the minister with a sad smile. “But these are thin times and we can not give what we don’t have…”

The woman glanced at the minister and then at the growing crowd on the village green. “I have some potatoes I was planning for our dinner tonight. It looks like we’re going to be eating here instead, so I’ll bring them out to you. It’s not much but it will help your soup.”

The minister smiled broadly and the hints of tears appeared in his eyes. “That would be a very generous donation, ‘mam. Thank you very much.”

The woman returned with an armload of potatoes, just enough for one and a half in each pot. When she returned to the villagers gathered around the tables, some asked her why she gave the stranger her food. When she told them her reasons, a few others nodded and departed to their kitchens. Soon a few limp carrots and some cabbage were added to the pots.

An old man wandered over to pots and commented to the minister. “You know, sonny. I remember a lean time long before this. My mum would make soup like this back in the ‘30’s. It was a real treat for us when we could get hold of some chicken necks to toss in there.”

The minister’s nose crinkled a bit. “Chicken necks?”

“Aye, sonny, there’s some meat to be had on the necks and there’s flavor from the bones.”

The minister nodded and laughed a little. “It’s a nice thought, but I don’t think the local supermarket carries chicken necks.”

“Laugh and think what you will, sonny. But I used to be a butcher. I still do some butchering now and then.” And the old man winked at the minister. “I have some in my freezer now, if you promise not to tell the others what they are. They think I’m old and crazy as it is.”

The minister’s eyes widened with delight. “That would be wonderful!”

The old man shuffled off to his home humming an old tune that arose from his heart.

Little by little, the small donations the villagers made thickened the soup. Soon the aroma filled the village green and the hungry villagers passed the remaining time playing games, and singing songs accompanied by the guitars and other musical instruments people had brought out. Laughter and the buzz of conversation among neighbors rose in the village green as the shadows of the great oaks extended across the autumn-dry grass.

In the fading daylight the villagers headed home for their bowls and mugs as well as jackets and wraps. They lined up peaceably while the minister spooned out the soup to any who wanted it. In the cool air after a fun day in the sunshine, the soup was warm and wonderful. Everyone had a smile on their face.

Those who loaned the pots were surprised there was some soup leftover and offered some to their neighbors as they headed home.

When the gas grills where wheeled away and the last of the villagers were heading home in the darkness. The minister returned to his car with a sigh. He didn’t accomplish what he planned to do here; there was still no food for the soup kitchen… Then he heard two people talking as they walked by his car on their way home.

“You know, Joe, that was fun. We should do that more often.”

“You’re right, Bob. It’s amazing how far so little food could go.”

The minister smiled to himself as he realized maybe he didn’t fail at all…

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- ESA

9/11 Memories & Thanks

2011-09-11T10:13:00.006-04:00

While many news stories cover memories of Americans from the terror that struck us one decade ago, I'd like to share a few stories recalled from those days - and thanks to many non-Americans.

When all traffic was grounded, several inbound flights were re-routed to our neighbors to the north in Canada. Canadians opened their hearts and opened their homes to displaced Americans who just wanted to get home to their loved ones after hearing the devastating news. Some even got into their cars and drove hundreds if not thousands of miles to get people home.

In Europe, not only did local residents share the news with visiting Americans and offer their heartfelt support on that day. A few days later, they held a three-minute moment of silence for us. One-minute is standard; three-minutes is unprecedented. And they didn't just bow their heads a moment. People eating lunch, put down their cups and utensils. People driving - local road and highway - as one pulled aside, stopped and gave us the full three minutes of silence. People stopped talking; radios were silent. This wasn't just in America; this was in Europe FOR America.

These are just two stories I've heard in the last 24 hours. There are many, many more cases where we were supported by others around the world. As we celebrate the 10th Anniversary of 9/11. Let us not only share our memories, let us be thankful for the support and heartfelt compassion shown by others around the world.

- ESA

Hurricane in Hindsight (True Stories)

2011-09-11T08:18:00.008-04:00

While Irene did leave a path of destruction up the eastern US seaboard, there are a few nuggets I would like to share with my readers of things I've seen following in Irene's wake.

While in the dark for days in CT, we were able to use our battery-powered radio to get some news, including a broadcast I overheard from one of Long Island (NY)'s radio stations. While there was damage, and thousands of people were without electrical power, neighbor came out and helped neighbor. In other parts of the country, this may be the norm, but not as much in and around NYC. The news had the reporter in awe and he added, "We have not seen such neighborly acts of people reaching out to one another in this area since 9/11."

One story I heard from a customer in Richmond, VA: The day following the hurricane, no one in his neighborhood could get out of the driveway, let alone down the street. So many trees had fallen, but 15 neighbors in the area got together and spent the day cutting and moving the fallen trees. He jokingly added they were all stocked up with firewood for the winter.

In CT, the local news reported what areas were out of power. Those few who had power opened their homes for others to come over for a meal, a hot shower, or even just to charge their electronic devices, such as cell phones, laptops and children's video games. Local high schools acquired generators so they could offer the same. Each night, people in darkened homes would go outside and share with their neighbors the news they heard, report where there was food to buy, power to charge items, and where we may get some ice...

Within 24-hours there was a shortage on ice. However, untold numbers of water bottles were packed in working freezers as well as ice cubes bagged to go for friends and neighbors who had no power. Room was made in freezers & refrigerators to help keep what little food could be saved.

In some parts of our small state, there was no gas available; a combination of high demand for all the independent generators and vehicles, plus inaccessibility to get fuel trucks into areas and the stations not having power to pump the fuel. Many grabbed gas cans when power came back in their town and drove some fuel to others who lived in the more remote parts of the state, keeping them going a bit further. For those who may not realize this, unless one lives in a city or some of the "downtowns" that have public water, when you loose power, you loose water too.

In our apartment complex, a community dinner was organized on the third day without power. Anything that people had been able to keep with ice in melting freezers was cooked up, and we collectively sat outside on that beautiful evening to a feast that would rival many Thanksgiving dinners.

Other nights, a neighbor gathered fallen tree branches around the area and had a make-shift campfire in her bar-b-que. Kids spent the time chasing each other with flashlights and the light from their phones and video games, playing hide-and-seek in the vast darkness where we usually have many security lights.

One evening CT's public radio called a public radio station in Vermont to review the devastation and ask how our neighbors to the north were doing. From Vermont came a remarkable story that I have not heard shared elsewhere. In the communities that were completely cut off from the rest of the State because roads were washed away, neighbor came out to help neighbor "just as we did in the old days." There was a daily gathering in the town greens, where people asked what was needed and collectively determined how those needs would be met that day. They could not depend on supplies from outside. For example, they would go out into the fields and harvest what was ripe - by hand. Then they would gather again on the green and cook the food, sharing it so all could eat.

A week after the hurricane, we traveled to Long Island to help my mom. On our return trip Monday over the Throgs Neck Bridge we saw hundreds of CanFer electric utility worker trucks lined up from the toll gate. They were heading back to Texas after working on Long Island for the past week. How many others traveled to the east coast to repair outages from the Carolinas to Maine? While they are paid for their labor, I am sure many missed home and family. I, for one, appreciate their help. :)

There are sad stories, which the media loves to cover, much of which is already forgotten in the wake of other hurricanes, wildfires and other news. But there are also happy stories too. We were blessed with unseasonably beautiful weather for almost a week after the hurricane - perfect days where we did not need heat nor air-conditioning. The outages were scattered so that some power was found in driving distance. People had many opportunities to help others near and far.

When other disasters come in its day,
May neighbor help neighbor in this way.

- ESA

Hurricane (Story)

2011-08-26T09:34:00.008-04:00

Hurricane Irene brought this story to mind. Originally published here. I thought to share this with my readers today. I know they would not necessarily fly a helicopter in the hurricane; it's part of the story. Enjoy. :)
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One day there was a bad storm causing tremendous flooding.

The whole area had been ordered to evacuate, but one man stood his ground and said, "No, I have Faith that God will save me."

All his neighbors left.

A jeep pulled up to his house and the driver called out, "Hey, guy, it's time to leave."

The National Guards pounded on his door, trying to convince him to leave.

He adamantly refused to leave, claiming, "No, I have Faith that God will save me."

The storm got worse, the water rose, lashing at the first floor windows.

A boat came by and the woman called out above the wind and rain, "HEY! You inside, you should have left earlier, but I can still get you to safety. It's time to go."

The man stayed inside, stubbornly refusing the assistance.

"No," he shouted back through a window, "I have Faith that God will save me."

The woman and boat moved on, searching for other survivors.

The waters continued to rise, eventually forcing the man up onto his roof where he clung to a chimney and prayed, "I still have faith in You, God. I know that You will save me."

A helicopter came.

The people within lowered a rope asking him to climb up.

He refused.

One of the rescuers lowered himself on another rope and tried to tie the rope around him.

He adamantly wrapped his arms around the chimney, hindering the efforts.

"No," he cried between clenched teeth, "I have Faith that God will save me."

With the storm's winds and rapidly rising water churning around his legs, the rescuer, at last, had to abandon the man to his fate and leave with the helicopter.

Soon after, the storm and the waters claimed the man on the roof -- drowning him.

The man found himself before the pearly gates of Heaven and stood puzzled before God.

"Why?" he asked. "Why? I had Faith that You would save me. Why did I drown when I had such Faith in You?"

God looked down at the man and shook His head sadly. "I sent you a jeep, a boat and a helicopter. What more did you want?"
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There are times when we expect God will send help in ways WE want. We seem to tell God how to save us, how to help us, how to behave.

When we do that, often we fail to see God working through others.

-ESA

Business Emergency Preparedness - Irene

2011-08-26T09:19:00.006-04:00

As we prepare for the possibility of Hurricane Irene, I issued the notice below to all the company employees where I work. I wanted to share this with my readers in case it helps them prepare for this Hurricane or a similar emergency in the future.

My prayers are with all who are in the Hurricane's Path; plan, prepare and be safe everyone!

- ESA

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Good morning, Employees,

Due to the possibility of a Hurricane in the area of our corporate office, please be aware of the following procedures to minimize business interruptions.

Evacuation: Considering elevation and proximity of the offices to the river, there is a remote possibility that the offices will be in an area of evacuation. In that unlikely event, no employee will be permitted access to the offices.

o We require that all employee phones be forwarded to cell phones by the end of the day today, Friday August 26^th. We will notify employees via phone if the offices are closed.

o We require all employees back up their computers by the end of the day.

o We require that all employees who have laptops bring them home, leaving the backup drives in the office fireproof safe.

o We request that all paperwork and other business items that may be needed for the next week be taken home by the employees today.

o We will mail out all checks due as payables Friday afternoon in the mail drop-box for Saturday pickup.

o We do not believe that our second-floor offices will see any water damage if there is local flooding, thus we do not need to take further precautions.

Power Outage / Extended Power Outage: If the possible event of extended power outage, we require all key employees to take the additional necessary steps. Please keep in mind, depending on the hurricane’s severity, power outages could last up to a full business week. Cell / mobile phone signals will cease after 6-8 hours of continued power outage, due to power failures at the tower – regardless of the charge in your mobile device. Internet service will not be available if your home router does not have power; back-up / surge batteries only last a few hours. Further, if your local internet servers (located off your property) do not have power over an extended period, internet service for the area will be disrupted.

o By no later than Saturday, August 27th, we require that all key employees post an auto-response message notifying the possibility that we may not have access to e-mail. Given our remote webhosting provider’s capabilities, our new messages will be kept online until we can sync to them via laptop or mobile device. We can remove the auto-response message once the hurricane is past, our local areas has continuous power and the ISP service is functioning.

o Have a corded phone in either your home or to take with you to a location at which you will be located. When a power outage occurs in your local area, use the initial battery backup to the mobile phone system to forward your phone to the landline with the corded phone. You can remove that forward once you confirm that continuous power is returned to your area and the local cell phone towers are functioning. In the event that the landline phone service (which is powered with its own lines) does not function at your location for an extended period, please consider the possibility of a hotel or other location which has phone service available.

o Conserve the battery of your cell phone, laptop and other mobile devices. We strongly recommend, during a power outage, to use the devices for key business and emergency calls only. We also recommend you shut down any devices when you are not using them. We strongly recommend keeping all mobile devices plugged in, whenever possible, until the hurricane arrives to ensure maximum battery charge.

o Have a battery-powered radio to listen to local news. This will serve in the event you need to evacuate your area, as well as inform you after the storm to what areas of the state have power. In the event that you do not have one (or if the batteries fail), remember you can also use the one in your automobile.

o Bring with you the power supply / cords for your cell phones, laptops and mobile devices. In the event of extended power outages, listen to the radio for in-state locations with power. If possible, you can travel to those locations to use your devices there, to provide power, local mobile service and internet connection. Some suggestions include libraries, McDonalds, Starbucks and other locations with public wi-fi spots.

We sincerely hope and pray we will not experience either of these situations this weekend or the coming week, but we sincerely appreciate everyone’s preparations to ensure no significant interruptions to the business.

Thank you.

Judge Not

2011-08-16T10:00:00.011-04:00

This post is essentially a lengthy response with which Twitter would be a poor medium. Forgoing my typical rhymes, I will speak plainly here.

"Judge NOT, lest you be judged."

There are many who advocate that to be a good Christian, or even a good person, one not only has the right to judge another, but has a sworn duty to do so, sometimes with a vengeance. I tweet against judging others, but here I will say why.

I believe we are called to Love each other, and to Forgive - not condemn - our brothers and sisters, essentially all of humanity. I agree that we should learn concepts of right/good actions and wrong (irresponsible, greedy, self-centered) actions. We can assess a situation without condemning a person.

When we judge, we place ourselves at a higher ground than the person whom we judge; we help feed our own ego in doing so. When we judge, we have in mind that we are better, wiser, even "holier" than another. Yet, we are all still very human and do NOT have knowledge and complete understanding of every situation - including precursory events, minute details, thoughts, feelings, the "big picture", and where the events lead to in the future. We are human, not God. Thus Judgment should be reserved for God alone.

Further, when we judge another, we hold up what we find wrong/offensive/evil, and our mind sees that instead of the person whom we have judged. If we hold this "sin" in mind when our thoughts are of that person, did we truly Forgive them? Is this the type of "Forgiveness" we seek for our own mistakes in this life?

Does "not judging" mean our hands are tied or we face the world with indifference? Certainly not! We do not judge the person, but we can assess an action or event. If we look at the event separate from the person, we can see what can be done. There is potential to do great good as well as great evil within every person. Our primary responsibility is to see the potential to do great good and see what we CAN do to enable that good to be accomplished, regardless of the past. That is a foundation for Forgiveness.

When we judge, we push the PERSON away from us, we condemn the person, not just the act. If we push the person away, there is no real way we can see the means to open paths to positive actions. We have shut the door.

We are called to be witnesses, not judges.

Do we see the good deep inside
Even when behavior helps it hide?
Do we open a path to a better day?
Or condemn & move on our way?

Be a witness to the good in another;
You will see your sister or brother.

- ESA

Evening Star Aglow

Walking thru Fog

Please Don't Be Angry...

Good News

Green Rectangles (Humor)

Praise Reports

Prayers

Forgiveness and Fight

Lessons in Listening

Resolution

I made one New Year's resolution many years ago that I've been able to keep - just one. That was to make no more New Year's resolutions.

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Does that mean there is nothing about me that I intend to change?

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Do I not want to loose the extra weight I carry around? Do I not want to become a better person? Do I not want to strive to do more to help my fellow human being in this world?

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Of course not!

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I just no longer wait until one particular day each year to try to change something about myself in a positive way.

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No one knows with 100% accuracy what will happen tomorrow. We can plan, certainly. We can schedule. But none of us "KNOWS" what tomorrow will bring - or even the next hour. So if I truly wish to make a change in myself, I have the moment right in my hands. This very moment, today!

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Now.

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Each day, each moment brings us a fresh new opportunity as pristine as the moment that occurred at midnight local time on New Year's Day. Why wait until the turning of the calendar to allow myself that opportunity and let all the others slip by? Carpe Diem Seize the Day Seize the Moment -ESA

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

New Year's Eve Tradition

I Love You

2012 - The Final Frontier?

Holiday Brake

Convert!

Holiday Travel

Home for the Holiday

Road to Bethlehem (Story)

Mary / Miriam / Maria

Hands Up!

Gift Exchange

Christmas Letter from Jesus/Yeshua

Ben Stein Commentary

Andy Rooney on Prayer

The Reindeer Tale (Story)

Lights in the Darkness

Christmas Dragon (Story)

Snowball Fight (Story)

A Medieval Christmas Poem

Favor Returned (Story)

A Response

Prayer for the Protesters

Holiday Pileup

Furry Fun

Lion & Little Mouse (Story)

With the fall colors shining bright, my mind brings this fall story to light. I wanted to share it with my readers. Written in 2008.... feel free to copy/paste & share, as long as you do not receive funds for it anywhere. :D

Lion and Little Mouse

Over the Wall (True Story)

Soup Story (Story)

9/11 Memories & Thanks

Hurricane in Hindsight (True Stories)

Hurricane (Story)

Business Emergency Preparedness - Irene

Judge Not

Each day, each moment brings us a fresh new opportunity as pristine as the moment that occurred at midnight local time on New Year's Day. Why wait until the turning of the calendar to allow myself that opportunity and let all the others slip by?

Carpe Diem
Seize the Day
Seize the Moment

-ESA