And he wept sore,
he knew he could do no more.
He wept sore,
he knew not,
what was in store.
He wept sore,
he knew not a lot,
but he did know the score.
He wept sore;
the one he claimed to love,
she picked up and walked out the front door.
He wept sore,
he wept long and hard,
then he crumbled and fell on the floor.
Eva Santiago Copyright 2011
Bon Jour Dieu!
I want to greet you in other languages because I wonder if you ever get tired of hearing English all the time 🙂
Please watch over my friend who is serving our country in Afghanistan right now. Please protect him and help him out with his duties over seas. When he gets weary and home sick, let him know you are near. Help his family out in his absence by meeting all of their needs while he’s away.
God, I’m not going to stand out here and bring you my
laundry list. You deserve so much, much more than that! So instead I shall tell you how fantastic you are because I know you like it when I praise you.
Thanks for resolving that conflict that I had with that one business; I don’t need to mention names because I know you know who I’m referring to. Grant me favor!
You are so beautiful to me. There was a song like that; wasn’t it back in the ‘7o’s? Anyways, the song suits you and so I shall sing you the little bit I know. Hang on though because that’s the ONLY line I know. hee hee
The US flag I have hanging in front of my house reminds me to pray for all of our troops defending our freedom here at home and over seas. God, America needs you more than ever right now, so I’m sending out an S.O.S. confident that you ARE hearing your people and responding accordingly.
Chao for now!
Je t’aime mon Dieu!
There once was a girl with curly black hair.
She loved to write and her name was Clare.
She loved to sing which was on the beat;
and she liked to watch birds,
now that’s pretty neat!
Her writing was her talent-
she was so great.
She wrote a book,
which tops the cake.
Clare was on a journey-
the longest of all.
Everyone said she was the shiniest star.
Before she began her journey,
Clare packed all of her stuff;
the village people were sad,
they went out in a huff.
The journey was long,
the journey was short;
it was the best of them all.
Clare made a friend: Tammy Defoe.
Clare’s husband’s name was David Defoe.
She made a lot of friends- Manny and Jenny.
The greatest of them all was Clare’s own Pappy.
He was very strong; the strongest of them all.
He told her to quit writing!
For Clare, this was the worst of all.
She was sad, sad, sad and MAD.
Her pappy told her to cheer up;
he told her not to be sad but glad.
So on her journey Clare cheered herself up
she made many friends and she bought a pup.
When at last Clare’s journey ended
God brought her in a great big blast.
He had a big plan for Clare;
He gave her a family and she got her writing back.
I tell you this story is true:
There IS a BIG God and a writing girl too.
Her name is Clare- she doesn’t blend.
She has all her needs met,
God has been with Clare from beginning to end!
Raquel Brincat Copyright 2011
Ok God, please remind me to start doing laundry earlier in the day so I won’t be out here at 3pm when it’s the most scorching . The beads of perspiration forming on my upper lip and forehead remind me of the sound sizzling bacon makes on a live griddle.
Thanks for sending Raquel out here to pitch in. She said, “Mama I love the wet clothes on me ’cause it’s so hot.” Lightbulb! 
What a great idea. The help didn’t last long though; she couldn’t take the heat trying to bake her all of 4’5 frame so I sent her along.
Where were we God…AH yes, I know hell exists because I live in a hot, arid climate and I imagine this has to be hell on earth! One big difference between this and the furnace that burns eternally: There is cold water, an occasional light breeze and shade! That’s what I imagine, it’s not like I want to find out! 🙂
Before I hang this last pair of socks,
I just want you to know God, how glad I am that you are my friend.Chao for now ( as I make a fast dash for the shade of my porch where my ice cold water awaits.
During these 7 years I have learned to manage living with kidney failure. I’ve lost count of all the tests , x-rays, biopsies,cat-scans, blood transfusions I have had to under go. I can’t remember the last time I ever felt healthy; was I ever healthy before this?
There was a time before the doctors diagnosed me with kidney failure , where I had to be isolated for 3 days. I was somewhere between 8 or 9 years old. They used radiation in order to turn out my thyroid. To be honest I really don’t quite understand what any of it meant, all I know is I went through that and I knew even back then that God was with me.
I can remember once I was hospitalized and my dad was sitting with me playing chess. The nurses were changing their shifts and my dad had to leave; but before he did, he went to use the restroom. I climbed out of my bed and instantly my head felt like a balloon about to float away. I walked toward my dad and in a weak voice I told him I was light headed. He had great timing because he quickly spun around and caught me on my way down before I had the chance to bang my head on the toilet.
I had never seen my dad so scared; he’s a man that can take just about anything too. As I lay on the cold tile flooring I could hear him yelling at the nurses; it all sounded muffled and far away ;which is where I wished I could be; far away from this whole situation.Finally a nurse came and put me back in bed and then she realized I needed more blood so she ordered me a blood transfusion.
In 2010 I went through something that I never would have expected . I was home and I felt a new, strange pain in my chest. Thankfully my parents were close by and they rushed me into my dad’s white pick-up truck. As the minutes flew by I became numb; I felt rubbery from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I tell ya Gumby
had nothing on me! At the entrance to the hospital, I tried to step out of the truck and my legs felt like the tendrils of a jelly fish;
they gave out too. My dad was right there and caught me just in time again.
My dad threw me over his left shoulder and he took off in a mad dash toward the ER. If it had been a football game, he would have made a touchdown! I could hear him bellowing at the top of his lungs for help. I could count at least 7 nurses rushing to my gurney; everyone was talking so fast it made my head spin. All their words rushed at me with such speed and intensity;
I pictured my mind a highway running wild with bits and pieces of conversations and nothing made sense. After a little while though I was able to make out what was being said; because my potassium levels were sky high, I was in the early stages of a heart attack.
God’s grace and His favor saw me through what I now consider to be one of the scariest moments of my life. It sounds crazy; I’m a teen and I had just come very close to having had a heart attack. The next day it felt like God had given me a miracle, especially when I rose up out of my bed and I was walking around feeling way better than the day before. I still recall the amazed looks on those nurses; I think I was as surprised as they were.
In my next post I will tell you how JR has struggled with some other difficult issues that are all side effects of his condition.
You are like a rainbow that comes out after a summer thunderstorm.
Your colors are iridescent,each representing a facet of your uniqueness.
The red is your heart filled with love and compassion.
You touch everyone in your world as you let the love in your heart overflow.
The green stands for the loyal sister and friend that you are to me.
Green symbolizes life;and yours is an exuberant one.
The two qualities that make you stand out in a crowd.When we were little,you were my constant companion.Even though we were separated,our lives have always run parallel to each other. Like two branches of the same river,
both flowing toward the same destination;the ocean of a our God’s abundant and amazing love.
When I was six years old I was living in Colombia.My parents had passed away and I was living in the home of a family that was assisting me in acquiring the proper papers so that I could come to the Unites States legally. The lady of the house had grown up children who attended college. They enjoyed listening to American rock and roll music on a short wave radio that transmitted from a station in the U.S. The first American song I ever heard was Simon and Garfunkle‘s,”The Sounds of Silence“. I didn’t know any English so the words didn’t mean much to me. The haunting melody of the song grabbed my attention because it served to comfort me,reminding me that I wasn’t suffering alone.Just the other day,I heard that song again,and it took me back to that time when I first heard it. I could even picture exactly what I was doing that day. The family was re-upholstering some chairs in a luxurious red brocade tapestry . I even remember running my small fingers along the ornate design of the fabric to the sound of the music as I tried to sing along.
listening to this sort of personal anthem, and it brings me great satisfaction to see the personal growth I’ve done in the twenty years of the song’s release. Mr. Springsteen,thank you so much for that inspiring song that has become ingrained in the grooves of my soul!
Music is immensely integrated in our lives. My husband and I encourage our four children to listen to many types of music genres. They all play an assortment of musical instruments. In order to play great music you have to first be exposed to great music. I see much of today’s young people becoming narrow minded especially when it comes to music. I have a young friend who only wants to listen to rap music,that’s where its at for him. My children on the other hand find his point of view rather dull and uninspired. I thank God that my uncle exposed me to a vast array of classical music, because I am doing the same with my children.
I came out of abuse and I can tell you that God used those horrific experiences to teach me some valuable lessons. Yes, I say God because He is the only One that can set the captive free,if you allow Him to do a deep work in your life. The first lesson that I learned from my past abusers is that I didn’t want to do to another human being the vile,profane deeds that were done to me.
I was worried for a long time that if I forgave them,that I was supposed to be involved with that person again. That’s when I learned that you forgive primarily for you. I have forgiven my abusers and I can now pray for them.
I am the youngest of eight children. My oldest sister is six years older than I. Our mother became ill after having me. So naturally my eldest sister stepped in and took care of me as best as she could when I was but an infant. My mother passed away on what happened to be my sister’s birthday, my father’s passing came not too long after.
Looking back on my childhood, I see my sister in and out of my life at different intervals.I remember being separated from her for I don’t know how long. The day she came back,I was elated . I hung on to her when I finally saw her and I asked her.”Will you stay for a hundred days?” Back then at that age, that increment of time seemed like an eternity in my young mind.I looked up to her like a form of God at that moment . My sister… my hero.
Then there was the day that she had to leave me to come live in the United States. I was devastated. To this day I remember that we ate watermelon sprinkled with salt for breakfast. Then she was gone. I wasn’t taken to the airport to see her off. All I knew was she was gone for good.We wouldn’t be bathing our dolls anymore or letting them sit in the sun to dry off while we washed their clothes.
A few years later,my turn came to come live in the United States. I was being torn away from my other sister and brother. My last night with them,we all huddled closely in the same bed Each of us trying to comfort one another. I recall going to sleep while my other sister rocked me …I couldn’t stop crying and neither could she.
Boy was I ever surprised when I stepped off the plane on May 7, 1976 at Miami International Airport to be greeted by my eldest,”long lost sister”. It was the salve that my aching soul needed to feel welcome into a new country, family and life!
My first Christmas in the United States came and went with much fanfare. A lot of relatives came to visit. The music was rocking the house. Latin sounds permeated the atmosphere. Plenty of food and spirits to celebrate the season. In all the festivities,no one noticed that the two orphaned sisters were quietly tucked away in grandma’s bedroom. The older held the younger as they both rocked back and forth. Crying, trying to find comfort in each other’s arms.
Then there was the last Christmas that I saw my sister as a child. She came with my aunt and grandma just for the week-end. The hours flew by so quickly. When it was all said and done,she was on the Greyhound bus on a cold,damp, dreary morning.
I went straight to my bed and I hugged my pillow so hard,wishing it was her instead. To this day, I still feel that ache;it reminds me of that nagging tooth ache that tells you to go see a dentist pronto or else you’ll be in for far worse.
Eva Santiago 