Paula Cole - Autumn Leaves

 

The autumn leaves drift by my window
The autumn leaves all red and gold
I see your lips

The summer kisses
The sunburned hand I used to hold
But since you went away
The days grow long

And soon now hear a winter song
But now I miss you most of all
My darling

And autumn leaves are starting to fall
The autumn leaves drift by my window
The autumn leaves all red and gold
I'll see your lips

The summer kisses
The sunburned hands I used to hold
But since you went away
The days grow long and soon now hear

A winter song
I miss you most of all
My darling

When autumn leaves start to fall
When autumn

______________________

 The beauty of the autumn leaves tumble one by one...

Maybe it's me.

 

Maybe it's me.
Maybe I never learned how to belong
the way other people do.
Maybe I missed the part
where friendship comes naturally,
where connection doesn't feel like chasing.
Sometimes I wonder
if it's all in my head
if I'm just imagining the distance,
the way their eyes flick past me,
the way I shrink without meaning to.
But what else can I do?
I show up.
I try.
I stay open,
even when it hurts.
And still,
I always end up right here
back in my own silence,
wondering what I did wrong
this time.

Selena Miller

Source: Selena Miller writes on Facebook
The loneliness of healing

ai art by me

Sacred Quiet Maverick City Music

 

The Lord's Prayer

Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy Name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
and the power, and the glory,
For ever and ever.
Amen.

Forgive yourself

 

Forgive yourself,
for staying longer than you should have.
You weren't stupid.
you were helpful.
You didn't ignore the red flags.
you tried to paint them green.
Forgive yourself for the nights you cried over 

someone who slept just fine without you.
Forgive yourself for believing
the I'll change that never came.
Forgive you self for confusing
their potential with their character.
You stayed because your heart
knew how to love deeply.
Not because you deserved less.
you left when your mind finally
caught up to the truth.
So drop the guilt.
your past self was doing their best.
You were loving the only way you knew how.

Source: The Rebirth of You by Selena Miller

ai art by me

Could I talk to you?

 

This is the most heart touching story that I have read in a long time.

Jim preaches at a church in the slums of New York.  He tells the following story:  

It was Easter Sunday, and I was so tired at the end of the day that I just went to the edge of the platform, pulled down my tie and sat down and draped my feet over the edge. It was a wonderful service with many people coming forward. The counselors were talking with these people.

As I was sitting there, I looked up the middle aisle, and there in about the third row was a man who looked about fifty, disheveled, filthy. He looked up at me rather sheepishly, as if saying, “Could I talk to you?” We have homeless people coming in all the time, asking for money or whatever. So, as I sat there, I said to myself, though I am ashamed of it, “What a way to end a Sunday. I’ve had such a good time, preaching and ministering, and here’s a fellow probably wanting some money for more wine.”

He walked up. When he got within about five feet of me, I smelled a horrible smell like I’d never smelled in my life. It was so awful that when he got close, I would inhale by looking away, and then I’d talk to him, and then look away to inhale, because I couldn’t inhale facing him.

I asked him, “What’s your name?” “David.” “How long have you been on the street?” “Six years.” “How old are you?” “Thirty-two.” He looked fifty—hair matted, front teeth missing, wino, eyes slightly glazed. “Where did you sleep last night, David?” “Abandoned truck.”

I keep in my back pocket a money clip that also holds some credit cards. I fumbled to pick one out thinking, I’ll give him some money. 

I won’t even get a volunteer. They are all busy talking with others. Usually we don’t give money to people; we take them to get something to eat. I took the money out. David pushed his finger in front of me. He said, “I don’t want your money. I want this Jesus, the One you were talking about, because I’m not going to make it. 

I’m going to die on the street.”

I completely forgot about David, and I started to weep for myself. I was going to give a couple of dollars to someone God had sent to me. See how easy it is? I could make the excuse I was tired. There is no excuse. I was not seeing him the way God sees him. I was not feeling what God feels.

But oh, did that change! David just stood there. He didn’t know what was happening. I pleaded with God, “God, forgive me! Forgive me! Please forgive me. I am so sorry to represent You this way. I’m so sorry. Here I am with my message and my points, and You send somebody and I am not ready for it. Oh, God!”

Something came over me. Suddenly I started to weep deeper, and David began to weep. He fell against my chest as I was sitting there. He fell against my white shirt and tie, and I put my arms around him, and there we wept on each other. The smell of His person became a beautiful aroma. Here is what I thought the Lord made real to me: If you don’t love this smell, I can’t use you, because this is why I called you where you are. This is what you are about. You are about this smell.

Christ changed David’s life. He started memorizing portions of Scripture that were incredible. We got him a place to live. We hired him in the church to do maintenance, and we got his teeth fixed. 

He was a handsome man when he came out of the hospital. They detoxed him in 6 days.

He spent that Thanksgiving at my house. He also spent Christmas at my house. When we were exchanging presents, he pulled out a little thing, and he said, “This is for you.” It was a little white hanky. It was the only thing he could afford.

A year later, David got up and talked about his conversion to Christ. The minute he took the mic and began to speak, I said, “The man is a preacher.” This past Easter, we ordained David. He is an associate minister of a church over in New Jersey.

And I was so close to saying, “Here, take this; I’m a busy preacher.” We can get so full of ourselves.

Lord, thank you for sending others our way.  May we never stop seeing them as Your precious children no matter how busy or tired we become.  Amen

Source: CW Riley on  Facebook

May he rest in peace.

I counted my years

 

I counted my years

and realized that I have

Less time to live by,

Than I have lived so far.

I feel like a child who won a pack of candies: at first he ate them with pleasure

But when he realized that there was little left, he began to taste them intensely.

I have no time for endless meetings

where the statutes, rules, procedures & internal regulations are discussed,

knowing that nothing will be done.

I no longer have the patience

To stand absurd people who,

despite their chronological age,

have not grown up.

My time is too short:

I want the essence,

my spirit is in a hurry.

I do not have much candy

In the package anymore.

I want to live next to humans,

very realistic people who know

How to laugh at their mistakes,

Who are not inflated by their own triumphs

and who take responsibility for their actions.

In this way, human dignity is defended

and we live in truth and honesty.

It is the essentials that make life useful.

I want to surround myself with people

who know how to touch the hearts of those whom hard strokes of life

have taught to grow with sweet touches of the soul.

Yes, I'm in a hurry.

I'm in a hurry to live with the intensity that only maturity can bring.

I do not intend to waste any of the remaining desserts.

I am sure they will be exquisite,

much more than those eaten so far.

My goal is to reach the end satisfied

and at peace with my loved ones and my conscience.

We have two lives

and the second begins when you realize you only have one.

by Mario de Andrade

Art Via Pinterest

Source: Seredipity Corner on Facebook

Mark Knopfler - Working on it

 

Mark Knopfler is probably my second favorite guitarist, although it's a tough contest. David Gilmour is, and always will be, king in my world. Gary Moore comes in a very respectable third.

I love listening to a good guitarist, especially one who understands that the instrument doesn't need to be beaten into submission to make its voice heard. There is something wonderfully soothing about a guitar played with feeling, restraint, and an understanding of what a song needs. Technical ability is one thing, but knowing how to make an instrument sing is something else entirely.

Mark Knopfler is a musical genius. I love his guitar playing, of course, but I love his singing, too. There's an unpretentious warmth to his voice that draws me in, and his playing has a distinctive character all its own. His duets with Emmylou Harris are a beautiful example of his musical sensibility, but even on his own, Mark has a way of making a guitar tell a story.

Working on It is another reminder of why I admire him so much. There's a natural ease to his playing that makes it sound almost effortless, although we know better. He doesn't need to overwhelm a song to make an impression. He simply knows what to do with those strings.

And while Mark holds a very special place on my list, David Gilmour remains untouchable at the top, with Gary Moore close behind. Three extraordinary musicians, each with his own voice, each capable of making a guitar speak in a way that goes far beyond the notes themselves.

But this one is for Mark. Some musicians make you admire their talent. Others make you want to sit back, turn up the volume, and enjoy every minute of what they do. Mark Knopfler manages to do both.