Reflections
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Puddles
Bluebelle stayed in my office with me all day today, sleeping in the doggie bed at my feet, next to the heating vent, while Jinx snored beneath his blanket on the living room couch. The raw, damp weather made perfect sleeping for them, helped along by the fact that Dixee wasn’t here with us to whine and to yap. My wife took her to the vet’s office to be checked out after her recent tussle with the spotted twins, and to be groomed while there. One can work quite peacefully under the soft sighs of sleeping dogs with cold rain pattering just outside the door and Hovhaness playing at a…
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On The Nearby Hill
They buried an old man today in the cemetery up on the hill. He was in his nineties, and from a distance it looked like about two dozen mourners attended the graveside services. I didn’t know the man, though his family name is prominent in these parts. And now he has gone on from this life, away from those who knew and loved him, and someday he will pass into that place where unvisited memories go. He lived, and he mattered, and now he is gathered to his people. This winter seems harsher than any of the threescore-plus ones I’ve known, and it has only begun. The land lies dormant…
- Bluebelle, Books, Daily Life, Dixee, Holy Days, Jinx, Mrs. Orr, Photographs, Quotations, Reflections
Like Most Others
Today started out like most other Sundays. Mid-morning, all the dogs wanted outside, so I let them out while I was preparing breakfast for the missus and me. A few minutes after the dogs went out, I heard what sounded like the spotted twins a-rasslin’ on the porch and didn’t pay it much attention. But a minute later, I heard Dixee’s shrill shriek of pain and went running. Jinx was holding her down with one paw and Bluebelle’s snout was buried in the fur on the right side of Dixee’s throat. When I burst out of the back door, bellowing and cursing, the twins scattered. Dixee was flailing around on…
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Blessings Of The Day
The day began with the spotted twins catching a possum in the backyard. When Mrs. Orr summoned me, the poor critter was doing his award-winning act, lying on his side, teeth exposed, still as a stone. I saw his mouth flinch slightly when I picked him up by the tail, so I was pretty sure he was all right. I tossed him over the fence into the next pasture. Sure enough, when I checked on him after daybreak, he was gone. And we caught another mouse last night, this one a clean kill. The weather is getting ready to change, so the little things are seeking shelter in a warm…
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Who Can Say?
A hundred and forty-six years ago today, the Indian warrior Crazy Horse fought his last battle before being taken by the U.S. Army. He would be stabbed and killed by a guard while in captivity some time later. I respect a man who ferociously fought those whom he believed had stolen his land and heritage. He fought. Isn’t that shocking to your modern eyes? Oh, we shouldn’t resist evil. We shouldn’t fight. We should meekly submit to all authority. We wouldn’t want to get in trouble, would we? When I was a boy, a common cliche’ about Indians was that they believed heaven was a “happy hunting ground.” Well, I…
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Law-Word
Back in my Argumentative Protestant Days, I became fascinated with a sect of the Presbyterian/Reformed world who were known as theonomists (from the Latin for “God’s law”) or Christian Reconstructionists. Briefly, these fellows advanced the idea that society could be reconstructed using the principles found in biblical law. The most prominent of these men was a very interesting character named Rousas Rushdoony, who liked to use a very handy phrase, “law-word.” He was quite influential in the 1990s, but after his death, the organization which was his life’s work seemed to fall apart, as movements headed by an irreplaceable leader tend to do. I attended a conference where Rushdoony was…
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Where I Am
For the past two days, a charcoal-gray tabby cat has strolled across the patio in front of the door next to which I sit while I work. Today I managed to get up and open the door before he got out of my field of vision. When I opened the door a crack, he scampered under the front barn and disappeared. Mrs. Orr and I were talking about him last night after I told her about seeing him, and she remarked that he would be welcome if he were a good mouser and could pull his own weight. This morning at about 0400, Bluebelle, she of the keen ears and…
- Church Life, Daily Life, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Paintings, Quotations, Reflections
The Fleeting Light
Where are the voices crying out, not for agreement with a doctrine or assent to a particular teaching, but for taking virile and perhaps physically fatal responsibility for one’s own reaction to the evil we see around us? The voices that do cry out do so in an attempt to persuade people to agree with them, or to at least debate with them about their position. Who speaks words of comfort for those who cannot and will not trust any of those clamoring for followers? What are the once-faithful and now-bereft to think, to do, to believe? The road to self-knowledge does not pass through faith. But only through the…
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A.D. 2023
We reflexively say “Happy New Year” to each other, but this year, the phrase feels foreign and odd. So I will say to you all, may this year be a year of good choices and noble behavior on your part, and may each day bring you a greater sense of meaning, that you are not merely existing and waiting to escape this life, but rather that you are wringing every bit of experience and fullness from each day. And perhaps this will lead not just to happiness, but also to deep, serene contentment. And that would be a happy new year. ~ S.K. Orr
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The Individual Name
I have long believed that the voiceless things in the world around us – the trees, the stones, for example – are aware of us, of our movement among them. This morning, sitting at my desk at work in my home office, I watched the birds in the grass outside and smiled at their antics, and then I found myself watching the weeping willow tree a dozen yards from the door. Leafless and still, it seemed to be looking back at me. And for the first time, a question arose: do the trees and the rocks and the other silent things out there have names? I don’t mean names as…