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Showing posts from November, 2016

A Psalm of Thanksgiving

 That an escaped rabbit could bring such delight to children and mommy alike.  Praise Him! That children delight in mimicking my baking, stretching, and parenting.  "Mommy, if you get tired while we're walking, you can hold my hand."  Praise Him! That broken branches of seeds and pods found in the streets  can be the embellishments of my home.  Praise Him! That the hills rise up out of the city,  and that trees fall dead on their dusty slopes.  Praise Him! That when I sit down to eat, I never have to apologize for the meager portions at any meal. Praise Him! That barefoot boys raise ruckus.  Praise Him! That houses foster gatherings of home-baked pies and home-baked people. Praise Him!   That tenderness need not be taught among the tenderhearted.  Praise Him! That when I lay down to sleep every night,  I have no terror of destruction or enemies or oppressive spirits or haunting memories.  That the walls of my ho

The Rabbit

Everything I know about rabbits I learned from Richard Adams' Watership Down.  Namely: 1. Rabbits can be ferocious fighters. 2. Hutch rabbits are idiots. 3. Rabbits do not like to pass droppings in their burrows. 4. Rabbits can swim. 5. Rabbits don't walk single-file or make very long sprints. 6. Rabbits can only count up to four. 7. Female rabbits are the ones that usually dig burrows. 8. Rabbits can be so scared that they freeze or drop dead. 9. If conditions are too bad, female rabbits can absorb their unborn young into their bodies. Unfortunately all that nonsense—Or who knows? Maybe it's true.—hasn't helped me understand the nature of owning a rabbit as a pet. A few weeks ago I was sitting in the front yard with the children when Joan, our neighbor across the street, asked if we'd seen the rabbit. A rabbit! Why, that could provide a good ten minutes of entertainment. We hustled up the street to where our other neighbor, Brenda, and her two da

Escaped Surgery Patients!

Wounded by wrongs, real or false, I know For treatment I must to the doctor go.  There answers cut open my heart like knives, And a fount of forgiveness freely I may imbibe. But oft' when ill feelings’ have found their source— Her indifference to regard me as I like, of course—, I recoil at the image in this 'luminating mirror  And assign this diagnosis to another who’s near. “Perhaps that’s why she's so hostile to me— No accolades I sing her, no recognition's free. And I with her censures cannot agree. She too must need insight for errors to see.” “Maybe I can play doctor on her soul with this light, And charge not a penny for my wise insight. Just a simple apology and the esteem I deserve For diagnosis and operation on what I observe.” Thus I by my scruples decode then her own Neglecting that heart where insight's been shown: The heart I call mine that leapt off the table After doctor’s incision this vision enabled. “The Lord won'