Tag: life

Tuesday’s Artful Response: Ethic of Life

Tuesday’s Artful Response: Ethic of Life

Uncategorized
I am not sure today's response is "artful" in that I have not done an art project, but it is in response to what my friend James wrote on Thursday. So first, I'll start with a haiku: the first seed dropsconstitutes, forms, lives, and diesbeginning again It was very tempting to put "beguine-ing again". However, I want to respond to this: "Conclusion:  a religiously grounded anti-abortion ideology is a dead letter." James Cowles I totally agree. You can't get to anti-abortion ideology without disregarding God's own abortion plan. In Numbers 5:11-22, "The Test for an Unfaithful Wife," verses 16-18 are about the "water of bitterness" that brings on "the curse." And, the priests, no less, were the people who prescribed the abortion. Socially, I bet it was a lot easier to cause
JOY – We have lived! We have loved!

JOY – We have lived! We have loved!

Grief, Joy, Poetry
  “It is best as one grows older to strip oneself of possessions, to shed oneself downward like a tree, to be almost wholly earth before one dies.” Sylvia Townsend Warner, Lolly Willowes or the Loving Huntsman [recommended] On May 28, 2014 our Group for people with life-threatening illnesses celebrated the lives of those who have already passed on. I was unable to attend the memorial service due to bronchitis, but I celebrated all those people and two of my family with the poem I share below. Our Group is comprised of people from several different religious traditions and is hosted by our local Insight Meditation Center. The group was founded and is run by a Buddhist chaplain who has been very kind and is a stalwart friend to each of us. Though I continue to follow the progress o
Time of Orphaning

Time of Orphaning

death, Grief, Short Story
It’s tough when you are orphaned at seventy. I say that without rancor or irony. I’d known Mrs. O’Donall and her daughter for fifteen years, which at the time of this story was the entire length of my life. The ladies - as everyone called them - were fixtures in our parish. Each morning they arrived at St. Anselm's at precisely six-fifty for daily Mass. Their consistency was such that my mom said she "could tell time by them." They generally made their way into church arm-in-arm and always sat in the first pew. While the younger lady was fragile, tentative and wide-eyed, the older one was stern, sturdy and quick-minded. With her daughter in tow, she worked on the Annual Church Carnival Planning Committee and in the Women’s Auxiliary as well, relied upon to help the nuns clean the sac