Reflections
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For A Taste
Jinx and I were on the road this morning as the world came alive to the day. I awoke with a gimpy knee for some unknown reason, so I walked slowly behind the dog as he scoured the fields for his meat & drink: delight in all things. I prayed a bit while scanning the horizon. Do you hear me, Sky-decker? Bird-painter? Are you aware of my thoughts, of my misgivings? And I watched Jinx as he loped down the hill and crossed the road in front of me, tail hooked over his back, grinning like a car salesman. He was not fretting about some slight he’d suffered at the…
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Fodder Wing
I’m vocal and unapologetic about my love for and fascination with animals. This personal quirk invites people to poke fun at me, which I try to accept with good humor. I’m not the sort of person who would hoard cats in a tiny apartment or feed a chihuahua from my fork or invite a grizzly bear to eat me on camera, but I do find myself drawn to any animals near me. My wife describes me as having a “mystical connection” with wild things, and they do seem to feel comfortable approaching me. Here on this blog, a reader once described me as an “Ellie Mae,” a reference to the…
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Having Enough
When I open my eyes to the gray light peeping around the borders of the curtains and drop my hand to scratch the stubby little ears of my dog, I do not trouble myself with thoughts of the world or its viruses or those who scramble after its thrones or its frocked masters who speak for God or its oil reserves or its intentionally-stoked fires of unrest. These things may come to affect me someday, but in order to do so they will have to make their way to this small acreage. If they do this, they may well learn why the gate to my life is locked and guarded.…
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Because WJT Will Understand
“A foreigner in her country, I came awkwardly, an anachronism, I suppose, and yet she came to light my life, to lead me into regions heretofore unknown to me, and I could not for the world give her up.” from Little Saint, by Hannah Green (2000 by Modern Library, New York, NY), p. 20
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A World Diminished
It sits just off the highway a few miles from the turnoff to our farm, a squat, unremarkable building in the middle of a blacktopped lot, two gas pumps out front. Two donkeys live in a corral adjacent to the building, and customers sometimes saunter over and offer treats to the pair. It’s the Market, and for almost four decades, Danny owned and ran the place. Danny’s market was one of the first places we patronized when we bought our place years ago. From the get-go, he was a genial shopkeeper, helpful and gregarious. In addition to groceries, cigarettes, beer and whatnot, the market stocks a large variety of useful…
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Inarcurlated Outlaw
I suppose it was bound to happen. Though I have held out hope, a superstitious confidence written on slips of tissue paper and tucked into the fissures in my heart. Now it’s caught up with me, and I see how futile my hope was. Middle of the afternoon, and my phone buzzes. Unfamiliar number, so I silenced it and went on about my business. A few minutes later I glanced at the screen. Voicemail waiting. Found a private room and listened. “This is Lacy? And um? Your dog is here at our house? Can you call me back?” So I called her back, and I got the story. Jinx had…
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Down In The Dirt
Saturday was supposed to be a home day, a day of chores and catching up on rest and spending time with Mrs. Orr and sporting with Jinx. But a small possum made shreds of my plans and I had to spend much of the day undoing his damage, along with trips to town to obtain the needed materials for the repair job. So the hours unspooled and we found ourselves in stores and we found ourselves in a restaurant, and we found ourselves watching people and wincing at what they wore, how they spoke, how they acted. We were relieved when we found ourselves back on our road, greeted at…
- Church Life, Holy Days, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Lectio Divina, Prayers, Quotations, Reflections, Saints
The Feast of Saint Joan of Arc
Five hundred and ninety years ago today, a devout 19 year-old virgin from an obscure French village was fastened to a pillar in the village square of Rouen and burned to death by Church authorities, their actions born of political intrigue, spiritual blindness, worldly greed…and great evil. Young Joan hears her voices For deeply personal reasons, I have a special devotion to the Maid, and have maintained an intimate relationship with her through prayer and meditation for some years now. There is no one like her. And her presence in the living world of today is real and undeniable. I am celebrating the Maid’s feast day on this last Sunday…
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Home Again, Home Again
It’s difficult to believe that just a day ago, we were in Texas. We arose very early in the hot darkness and pointed ourselves northeast. I started to say that we arose at zero-dark-thirty, but Hollywood has ruined yet another Marine Corps/military/masculine phrase by poaching it and using it as the title of one of its predictable, degenerate flicks some years ago. They did the same with neat phrases like “Whisky Tango Foxtrot” and will likely continue doing this until the men who once used such phrases as a brotherly jargon will never again speak them aloud. But I am writing of Texas, not Hollywood. By the time we reached…
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Coming To You Live….
… from the Lone Star State. We’re on our summer jaunt to Texas, visiting son and daughter-in-law and two grandsons, soaking up the heat and the singular atmospheric vibe that is The Republic of Texas. We’ve been rained on, slobbered on by a beautiful Golden Retriever, nibbled on by a tiny rat masquerading as a chihuahua/poodle mix, read to by an intense and beaming blonde boy, treated to homemade purple hull peas and jalapeno poppers courtesy of MooMoo, wooed with promises of smoked brisket by Joshie-O, serenaded by another blonde grandson with a two-fisted corndog technique, watched a diamondback rattler making his way through a busy intersection, and have been…