Archives March 2022

To Morrow

architecture building cabin ceiling

Now I know it is very likely when I was thinking yesterday about today and all that implies I should have asked counsel from Young Fuzzy.

As he’s passing through my office I’m wondering about a title for my post, says he, “What?”

Says I, I need a title for my tomorrow’s post, says he, “Well, here you go—”

After listening to the link, I told him I should have had that yesterday, but it’ll work for ‘To-Morrow.’

A person just never knows I guess. As we wander down life’s highway—or perhaps a byway we come across many diverse situations often they should give us moments of pause.

How many times do we hear people raging against the rich? “They’re just greedy people that have robbed others and that’s how they made their money…”

Or somesuch rhetoric goes with the rant, and maybe they’re right, but maybe not. I don’t know how every really rich person made their money. I do know some wealthy folks who have started with nothing and busted their backside to get where they are.

We’ve heard the phrase about those rich farmers and some farmers are rich. I’ve read that “The average age of a beginning farmer is 46.3, much younger than the average age of all farmers (57.5).” And I believe the age of farmers 65 years and older is 34%.

There are many reasons why this has happened. Farming takes a certain kind of rogue operator willing to be buffeted by friends and foes. Farmers are told how much they will pay to put in a crop (such as fertilizer and seed, and they pay for fuel, herbicides, and pesticides). Then those who pay for the finished product tell the farmer how much they’ll get for it.

And it may or may not cover the costs of input, but no one but the farmer cares and the farmers that are still farming (at 57.5 and over) are the ones that often have weathered too many storms to mention—and they overcame.

Back a few years ago someone belittled the accomplishments of then-candidate Donald Trump. “His dad gave him a million dollars, that’s where his money came from.”

It’s quite probable that’s where he got his start, but how many small businesses get loans for start-up costs? A million dollars is quite a bundle, but being an entrepreneur usually isn’t cheap.

Neither construction nor real estate comes cheap and the old adage ‘you have to spend money to make money’, does come to mind. All business has some cost. My daughter did some baking for farmer’s markets back in her teen years.

I helped her with the small start-up cost of ingredients, such as flour, pie fillings, and whatnot for the first pies and rolls for her first market then she took over from there. We were small-time operators so there wasn’t a million dollars invested. The principle is still the same.

I am not defending big operators or condemning them. I am saying you can lose money—even a million dollars—very quickly in any business, so making it work says much about the business person.

On the flip side, there are people that believe poor people are all lazy. There may be more truth on that side, but probably there is a mix in either the rich or the poor labels. As the scriptures say I know how to be abased and how to abound.

In other words, I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor. Even Dave Ramsey has been poor at least twice. I am amazed by the many honest ways people become wealthy.

Mrs. C.J. Walker was the first self-made woman millionaire in the United States. A black woman, the first in her family born after slavery ended, and nothing was ‘handed’ to her. She made her fortune by producing beauty products designed for black women and began selling products door to door.

There is an interesting story about a man in an expensive car. He exits his car and a poor man asks him, “How many people could you have fed with the money you spent on that car?”

The man answers, “Wait a minute.” He said, “when I bought that car I paid the salaries for quite a few people. Those employees took their wages home to put food on their tables and clothe their families. The question isn’t how many people could I have fed, but how many did I give the opportunity of earning an honest wage, the dignity of a paycheck instead of a handout?”

Philippians 4:

10 But I rejoiced in the Lord greatly, that now at the last your care of me hath flourished again; wherein ye were also careful, but ye lacked opportunity.

11 Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.

12 I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.

13 I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

Up Hill Both Ways

cropland duiring night time

I know it as a joke but not everyone catches the frisbee.

Since being sick two and a half years ago I’ve been taking my hair to the beauty shop to get it washed. My young stylist and I have some interesting conversations and last week during one of them I told her when I was young we had to walk uphill both ways to school.

That must have been hard, she said.

I laughed. That’s a joke I told her. I think she was just puzzled with the exchange. I had it backward, really. We lived at the top of Corkscrew hill and all we would have had to do was roll down the hill.

It wouldn’t have been a good thing to do for it was neither smooth-rolling any of the ways down and it wasn’t a short way down. There were three ways to get up to our plateauish area and not one of them was easy although the one from the south would have been the easiest.

Our lives were somewhat like that. I’m not sure if it would have been uphill both ways, or downhill no matter what.

And this morning I’m having fish and chips for breakfast. Some time ago Old Fuzzy got a large box of the ‘goldfish crackers.’ I have a plastic bowl I call a poor woman’s Tupperware. It came with something else in it—in my case, it was a whipped topping—and once empty it was just the right size for repurposing.

My repurposing for this bowl is to make a mix of goldfish crackers, tortilla chips (with Ranch flavoring), and any other like-minded cracker…like CheezIts in said bowl. Then I have a snack bowl of crackers to? snack on. Hence my fish and chips. Imagine a yellow smiley face here.

Today we have lots to do. I’m busy by proxy I guess. Our two youngest sons are taking cattle to the veterinary for well-bovine visits. We like for our cows to calve (have their babies) in the springtime, but we’re late this year.

This isn’t optimal since by the time they are due to have their calves this year we will have warmer weather and flies. Flies are a farmer’s bane, they tend to bother everything, the farmer himself even.

Spring of course is the optimal time for the young to be born. The weather can be wonky…we’ve had to go out to the pasture in a blizzard one April about forty years ago to rescue a cow and her calf but that doesn’t happen all that often. Springtime usually gives the young offspring time to mature before the fly and pest season is upon them.

Some chickens amongst the old breeds only hatch chicks in the early months of the year which I believe is one reason the hatcheries don’t sell those breeds all year round. I may be mistaken, but that is what I have stuck in my mind.

I do have a funny story about ducks. One day my third son pulls into his driveway and sees his flock of ducks all in a row following the lead duck into his neighbor’s yard. He steps out of his car and shouts, “Ducks get back here!” and dutifully the lead duck makes a u-turn and leads them thar ducks all back into his yard.

I find that picture to be hilarious.

After the boys get done with the cows at the vet if the vet can work the last year’s calves in they need to go in for a well-calf check-up. We may keep some of the female calves (heifers) for part of the future herd but the steers will go into the feedlot. We don’t have a large herd, but it has been enough for our own consumption and a few close customers.

We custom feed our animals so they aren’t fed antibiotics and since we also raise our own grain they aren’t fed GMOs. I am adamantly opposed to GMOs and want nothing to do with them. In my view it’s like humans saying to God, I know better than you, God, and I’m going to make something you never intended.

Our calves spend about a year on momma and the pasture, and the rest of their finishing off is in on grain and hay. Some have told me, “We raised ours on both pasture-fed and feedlot and never noticed the difference between the two.”

It reminds me of the time my youngest son and an older ‘sister in Christ’ were discussing fixing beef as opposed to venison. She said she preferred beef to venison, and he said she probably wasn’t preparing the venison right then.

If the person raising their beef didn’t notice a difference between their feedlot-raised beef and their pasture-raised beef they weren’t doing the feedlot beef right. And it can make a difference. We have friends that also raise beef, yet when they were guests here with us a few years ago we grilled some T bone steaks and the Missus asked her husband ‘why doesn’t our beef taste this good?”

It is an uphill battle. In the past, we had a truck farm where we raised and sold farm-fresh veggies. We’ve been many years gardening and whatnot and it seems odd that no matter how good our products have been there is a gap.

Young Fuzzy has an acreage and a number of people have inquired to buy it from him. “Well,” he told me, “I feel like telling them, sure I’ll sell it for $200thousand—but they’d probably think it was a good deal, and I don’t want to sell it.”

I told Old Fuzzy, we have an acreage we’d like to sell. Why don’t people call and ask about that? They do he said, but they want us to give it to them…the gap…I think I’ll deed my acreage to Young Fuzzy and we’ll split the profit.

Maybe he should take over the beef herd as well. Picture a puzzled face here.

1 Timothy 1:

15 This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief.

16 Howbeit for this cause I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might shew forth all longsuffering, for a pattern to them which should hereafter believe on him to life everlasting.

17 Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen.

18 This charge I commit unto thee, son Timothy, according to the prophecies which went before on thee, that thou by them mightest war a good warfare;

19 Holding faith, and a good conscience; which some having put away concerning faith have made shipwreck:

Coattails and Bootstraps

person wearing brown boots

Decorating your bootstraps? Or just irritations…

There’s something to be said about being a ‘self-made man’ or woman. And as one saying goes, ‘He’s a self-made man in love with his creator.’

That goes with many people today. They believe if they go to the right schools, the right colleges, get the right job—they’ve made it (and it’s because they did all the right things).

That would be akin to ‘pulling yourself up by your bootstraps.’ To actually pull one’s self up by their own bootstraps would be more like Andrew Carnegie and maybe even Warren Buffet.

Those two, if I remember their history, began life and their careers with very little schooling, no college, and only working themselves up one painful step at a time through the ranks. And of course, when you are in your own boots it is impossible to pick yourself up by those bootstraps.

On the other hand, coattails are entirely different. During the first election of Ronald Reagan, there were several candidates in our state who won their first terms and at least one of them was asked if they believed they had won ‘on Reagan’s coattails.’

That candidate answered he didn’t care one way or the other he was thankful that he had won. And so it goes. In reality, no one ever does it one way or the other. It takes a bit of both to get where we are going.

Persevering in the face of adversity, or in the face of challenges is a must. The saying ‘Into each life some rain will fall’, is a truth. Everyone has good days and not-so-good days.

There is a lesson to be learned in both situations. Carnegie began his career in his pre-teen years as a message boy. Buffet began as an avid entrepreneur, always looking for a way to make a dollar. In both situations, it would be necessary to learn to look around and ask questions.

brown and red birdhouse

My mind is playing hide and seek with me…and maybe you.


And here it is Monday, but tomorrow it won’t be Monday. Life is funny like that. When writing about ‘today’ it won’t be today tomorrow—or will it? Another funny thing, tomorrow tomorrow will then be today, and today will then be yesterday.

It’s sunny and breezy out there no matter what you call the day. My editor had a bit of a health setback but is on the mend. Things move along so slowly at times but when we look back they were moving along.

Like one slow step at a time, persevering toward the goal I give God the credit for sustaining and guiding me because unlike those who believe they are self-made individuals I know that it is God who blesses and brings things good to fruition.

Matthew 7:

13 Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat:

14 Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.

Proverbs 3:

5 Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

6 In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. 7 Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil.

Where’s Your Mindset?

backlit cemetery christianity clouds

I am small, but He is great; It’s better to realize this early rather than late…

This could also be titled, Are We on the Same Page? While waiting for a reply on a comment this morning I came across this piece that follows (from a site called (FARM LIFE) Farm Life

During World War II, fighter planes would come back from battle with bullet holes. The Allies found the areas that were most commonly hit by enemy fire. They sought to strengthen the most commonly damaged parts of the planes to reduce the number that was shot down.

A mathematician, Abraham Wald, pointed out that perhaps there was another way to look at the data. Perhaps the reason certain areas of the planes weren’t covered in bullet holes was that planes that were shot in those areas did not return. This insight led to the armor being re-enforced on the parts of the plane where there were no bullet holes.

The story behind the data is arguably more important than the data itself. Or more precisely, the reason behind why we are missing certain pieces of data may be more meaningful than the data we have. Don’t only listen to what is being said. Listen more to what is not being said.


This is the end of the piece but not the end of the thought. I’ve written this before, I’ve thought it before, but it’s a hard goal to reach. The goal of reading someone’s heart.

I have at times…too many times sadly…imputed to other people their motives as to why they have done what they did.

I have also wondered why other people didn’t read my mind as to what I’d want or what I’d like, or why I did what I did. And they do tell women not to hint to their significant others what their wishes are but we do it anyway.

It’s a real tough call on some things because sometimes there are things best left unsaid. We can’t recall the unkind, the thoughtless, the hurtful things that should not be said.

On the other side, sometimes we need to ask as my daughter did back in the day. It was right after our last child was born and Jenny was doing most of the fill-in cooking.

There were a couple of times she began a supper meal only for me to say something like, we should have had such and such—whatever I had been planning on fixing.

At that juncture she began asking, I was planning on this for a meal, what did you have in mind? Who would have thought—just ask.

As a writer, many of my writings come from giving people their thoughts and reasons. That works in the what-if world and it can make interesting stories.

There is an interesting theory that all people have an inner happening that takes place within their first five years of life. This—in theory—inner happening creates within the person the lie which they will never be able to escape.

I reject that theory. Not that there aren’t parts that are true, not that there aren’t people for whom it may come true. However, we are all capable of honesty and truthfulness and are able to overcome circumstances put on us by others or inflicted by ourselves.

I may be paraphrasing this but it goes somewhat like this: I am not what I ought to be…not what I want to be…but I am not what I used to be, nor with God’s power what I will be.

“Romans 8:

37 Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.

38 For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,

39 Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Mulberry Bush

cute siblings resting in green garden

Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush. Here we go round the mulberry bush, early in the morning…

When I was quite small my grandmother used to set me on the table in front of her and repeat nursery rhymes from her memory. From Old Mother Hubbard to Jack Sprat Could Eat no fat, on into The Little Old Woman and her shoe, to Little Jack Horner sitting in a corner and All Around the Mulberry Bush, she knew them all.

Then when I grew up I bought several books of nursery rhymes and read them to my children until they knew them by memory.

I didn’t stop with nursery rhymes, I read all sorts of books to my children. I read them asleep for their naps and I read them awake after their naps. The tradition continued as they grew older. Even Old Fuzzy got into the game as the kids got older, reading to them in winter evenings before bedtime.

The fall we began homeschooling the kids began giving me grief about something and I picked up my copy of Laddie by Gene Stratton-Porter and began reading them into school…We read that book, we also read the Tolkein Hobbit/Lord of the Rings series, C.S. Lewis Narnia series, some of Madeline L’Engle…

There was a true love of reading in our family. I don’t think any of our children have carried the tradition as we did. Some of it was wives who don’t read, but the one who has read to the children most was our Young Fuzzy who has no children of his own.

He has read to his nieces and nephews, especially the Frog and Toad series. And oddly enough, I didn’t read to him nursery rhymes…but I did read to him and he absorbed the same love of reading, of words rolling off the tongue of imagery conjured in the mind.

Mulberry bushes have consequences you know. We used to sing about here we go-’round the mulberry bush, which seemed lost to reality. The mulberries we knew of didn’t grow on a bush. They grew on a tree, usually with a gooseberry bush at the base of the tree.

Whoever wrote the rhyme must have confused the mulberry with the gooseberry. There isn’t any similarity between a gooseberry and a mulberry, but both can be used for pies. The gooseberry needs lots of sugar. My grandmother made the best mulberry pies but her secret has been lost to us.

In life, there isn’t always a rhyme or reason as to why things happen—or don’t happen. And in one generation things can be lost that were unthinkable. We see it sometimes in large things and sometimes in small.

If we believe our society is increasingly wicked and will soon self-destruct, think again. Think again about the roaring 20s. They were a wicked time of immorality, crime, and whatnot.

Along came the Great-depression followed ten years later by WWII. What comes as a surprise is how often when things such as the Great-depression or a war happen people become more conservative.

Here’s a quote from the T.V. show Mash that I find interesting:

 Hawkeye: War isn’t Hell. War is war, and Hell is Hell. And of the two, war is a lot worse.

Father Mulcahy: How do you figure that, Hawkeye?

Hawkeye: Easy, Father. Tell me, who goes to Hell?

Father Mulcahy: Sinners, I believe.

Hawkeye: Exactly. There are no innocent bystanders in Hell. War is chock full of them — little kids, cripples, old ladies. In fact, except for some of the brass, almost everybody involved is an innocent bystander.

You may agree or not, but the concept is interesting and in truth, those who go to hell are there because they made a choice not to obey God. Not that that will make hell better…hell is just hell.

“Judges 2:

1 And an angel of the LORD came up from Gilgal to Bochim, and said, I made you to go up out of Egypt, and have brought you unto the land which I sware unto your fathers; and I said, I will never break my covenant with you.

2 And ye shall make no league with the inhabitants of this land; ye shall throw down their altars: but ye have not obeyed my voice: why have ye done this?

3 Wherefore I also said, I will not drive them out from before you; but they shall be as thorns in your sides, and their gods shall be a snare unto you.

4 And it came to pass, when the angel of the LORD spake these words unto all the children of Israel, that the people lifted up their voice, and wept.

5 And they called the name of that place Bochim: and they sacrificed there unto the LORD.”

Finding the Edge

woman in black outfit in evening field

Life is relative. There are days that the scene before me is a wide panorama extending, apparently, forever. Then there are days when I feel like I’m sitting on the edge of a deep precipice.

Yesterday morning it was 53 degrees (F)warm. The temperature wasn’t awful most of the day, although outside people wore their coats and winter hats. Sometime during the evening, maybe early this morning at 4:00, it began snowing and now it is still snowing. It looks a lot as if the angels are throwing snowball flakes from the sky.

Wednesday the 16th I painted the last stencil of roses (pink and white) on my purple dresser. I’m not sure what to say other than I like it. Yesterday I ordered tea—it was almost a fight to the finish.

The last garden plants we started are doing good. The first ones we started don’t look as good, but I’ve added a bit of fertilizer to their water and we’ll see if that perks them up. I’m waiting for a delivery but our morning snow put a damper on deliveries.

Now, the morning snow is melting. North of here snow turned to rain about three this afternoon. We need the moisture so in either form, we’ll rejoice and be glad. And I feel as if I’ve found my edge but not slipped over it yet.

My third book is at the editor and I’ve contacted my cover artist. So things are happening. But I’m somewhat in limbo not sure what or where to move into.

I’ve thought about working on the Mac and Amanda prequel but I don’t have much of that one started. I’ve thought about working on the story involving Gene the depression era orphan. That one has a lot done on it but would need a lot more to finish it.

At the moment I’d just as soon engage in a snowball fight with the angels, or maybe finish an embroidery piece, or a jigsaw puzzle. And then there are a couple of unfinished oil paintings…

Another thought may be that I have indeed slipped over the edge and that I am grabbing at straws on my way down. Old Fuzzy brought me a raspberry cream cheese flip for breakfast, therefore, I should be happy as a bird with a french fry.

Of course, that was so good, you couldn’t beat it with a stick.

“Ecclesiastes 10:

5 There is an evil which I have seen under the sun, as an error which proceedeth from the ruler:

6 Folly is set in great dignity, and the rich sit in a low place.

7 I have seen servants upon horses, and princes walking as servants upon the earth.

8 He that diggeth a pit shall fall into it; and whoso breaketh an hedge, a serpent shall bite him.

9 Whoso removeth stones shall be hurt therewith; and he that cleaveth wood shall be endangered thereby.

10 If the iron be blunt, and he do not whet the edge, then must he put to more strength: but wisdom is profitable to direct.

11 Surely the serpent will bite without enchantment; and a babbler is no better.”

I Pledge


There are things I wish I could pledge, to always be honest, to always be there, to always…

As you can see these pledges begin with the idea of ‘always’, and how difficult it is to be always anything. Like a person wants to be ‘always honest,’ but at times what you think is honest maybe isn’t and always is a long time.

“Not to know is bad. Not to wish to know is worse. African proverb”

Monday, Monday—I was asked Wednesday, March 2, if Old Fuzzy and I had any plans for the weekend. We had in the last few weeks (of February) before had several ‘surprise’ gatherings, mostly for birthdays, and were we planning on any surprise things for that weekend?

I honestly replied not to my knowledge, but…Old Fuzzy and I have been married fifty years as of March 7 this year. During the week we were invited to lunch on Sunday, March 6th at one of our sons and his wife’s house.

Now, Old Fuzzy and I don’t go out often since it’s hard for me to ‘get around.’ So, it was somewhat unusual, but a nice invite. After church was over we drove over to our son’s house and found, indeed, it was a party for our anniversary. So it would have been a surprise, except Old Fuzzy and I—well, we didn’t ask and just let them ‘surprise’ us.

This weekend was another unplanned activity. Tuesday night my daughter informed us she and her family were planning on coming for the weekend. So, Wednesday we began spreading the word that Sunday afternoon was another gathering.

At least I thought that was the gist of what we were thinking. But Saturday we received a message:

Them: Are we doing anything for /on Sunday?

Me: yes we are.

Them: Erina and I were preparing, but didn’t know and didn’t want to show up and nothing happening…

Me: Well, if you’d showed up Something would have been happening…Them: You need a better social director…

So, we laughed. Our youngest son (young fuzzy) was—by default—our social director for a long time then he grew up and moved on. We parlayed over wages for being our social director, but he was adamant that not only was he NOT our social director, even at double the wages (or even ten times the original wages) 2 (or ten) times zero is still…

What a bugaboo, raining on my parade. And he always gets fed well when we have a social get-together, not to mention our wonderful company. And so the circle goes around.

So, Sunday Miss Carol brought back my copy of the second book, “As A Lovely Song” and she is now waiting for the next book to come out, “All of My Tomorrows”. It is at the editor’s and if the editor doesn’t get too traumatized it should be done with her in two weeks.

Miss Carol was asking if I had any other books planned and I do have some already partially written, but as to whether they get finished I can’t say. The way things look I’m sure for more reasons than one Jesus should be returning very soon.

“Mark 1:

1 The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God;

2 As it is written in the prophets, Behold, I send my messenger before thy face, which shall prepare thy way before thee.

3 The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.

4 John did baptize in the wilderness, and preach the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins.

5 And there went out unto him all the land of Judaea, and they of Jerusalem, and were all baptized of him in the river of Jordan, confessing their sins.

6 And John was clothed with camel’s hair, and with a girdle of a skin about his loins; and he did eat locusts and wild honey;

7 And preached, saying, There cometh one mightier than I after me, the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to stoop down and unloose.”

Overlooked Value

close up photo of an aluminum foil

When our eyes are on the wrong prize there are too many things we overlook. Prayerfully, we don’t miss the very important things in our lives.

The old folks used to have a saying: when you “shuck right down to the cob.” There are all sorts of those sayings, many of which have been lost in time.

I have heard things such as don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. My grandmother used to have several sayings that I passed on to my children.

When my daughter began working at a retail store she used some of them such as ‘each their notion said the old lady that kissed the cow.’ Of course, she garnered an assortment of reactions. Even Shakespeare wasn’t revered there, when she said, I’m addlepated…

Still, when we shuck right down to the cob—what do we value? What makes life worth getting up each day for?

It was supposed to be warmer today, and I guess it has been. I’m wondering warmer than what and when? And perhaps I should ask warmer than where?

It is sunny outside, but the wind is cold to me. Without the wind it’s probably warmer than yesterday, but not by much. But like the old man who realized how much he owed God who provided him with oxygen every day, this is the world we live in and it is an awesome world.

Like the children’s song we sang in Bible class, I look out my window and what do I see? God’s world going round and round—round and round for me (and you).

I see all the beauty out my window, as well as I have family, friends, and so many things in my world. What makes life? God makes life. He gives me the good things I have and the ability to enjoy those things. Lest we forget, however: Life—

It Looks Like An Eternity,

But It’s A Short Trip,

Enjoy Life And Always

Be Kind.


“Ecclesiastes 2:

24 There is nothing better for a man, than that he should eat and drink, and that he should make his soul enjoy good in his labour. This also I saw, that it was from the hand of God. 25 For who can eat, or who else can hasten hereunto, more than I?”

Looking Forward

photo of a lighted candle

It’s easier to go forward if you’re looking that way. On the other side of things, we most often go the way we’re heading.

I’ve copied another quote, the attribution here seems to be: THE POEM IS BY: BOUCAR DIOUF, HE IS FROM SENEGAL, THE POEM IS CALLED “LATER”..

There is in this rather long/short poetry a warning and an encouragement not just for the young but for whoever reads this no matter where they are in life. It is summed up well in the last few verses.


“Barely the day started and it’s already six in the evening.

Barely arrived on Monday and it’s already Friday.

.. and the month is already over.

.. and the year is almost over.

.. and already 40, 50 or 60 years of our lives have passed.

.. and we realize that we lost our parents, friends.

.. and we realize it’s too late to go back.

So.. Let’s try, despite everything, to enjoy the remaining time.

Let’s keep looking for activities that we like.

Let’s put some color in our grey.

Let’s smile at the little things in life that put balm in our hearts.

And despite everything, we must continue to enjoy with serenity this time we have left. Let’s try to eliminate the afters…

I’m doing it after…

I’ll say after…

I’ll think about it after.

We leave everything for later like ′′ after ′′ is ours.

Because what we don’t understand is that:

Afterwards, the coffee gets cold…

afterwards, priorities change…

Afterwards, the charm is broken…

Afterwards, health passes…

Afterwards, the kids grow up.

Afterwards parents get old.

Afterwards, promises are forgotten.

Afterwards, the day becomes the night…

Afterwards, life ends.

And then it’s often too late…

So.. Let’s leave nothing for later…

Because still waiting to see later, we can lose the best moments,

the best experiences,

best friends,

the best family.

The day is today… The moment is now…

We are no longer at the age where we can afford to postpone what needs

to be done right away.

So let’s see if you have time to read this message and then share it. Or maybe you’ll leave it for… ′′ later “…

And you’ll never share it…”


“Romans 13:

11 And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.

12 The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light.

13 Let us walk honestly, as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying.”

Does It Matter?

mountain at night under a starry sky

For instance, the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for forty years because of their own sin and disbelief—

There are some things in this piece I understand as questionable. For instance, the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for forty years because of their own sin and disbelief—in short, they had tempted God too many times. And that should be a warning to all of us. There should be an end to murmuring and complaining. Questioning God isn’t the problem, disobedience is.

The following piece is attributed to something I copied from Facebook (as it says February 23, 2022) from someone who goes by Nightbird. I think it’s a woman who was dying from cancer. As to whether she is still with us on this side or she has passed, I don’t know. Regardless, many of her thoughts resonate with those who have walked the paths of sorrow as she has.

In the end, even in my own life, no matter how I have ‘kicked against the pricks’, as Jesus tells Paul, when a person is on their knees they are in the best place to pray.

February 23, 2022 copied from FB

*Note, I don’t know who wrote this snippet: This resonates. I’ve met God in both the valleys and the mountain tops.*

Nightbirde wrote this about her own life:

“After the doctor told me I was dying, and after the man I married said he didn’t love me anymore, I chased a miracle in California and sixteen weeks later, I got it. The cancer was gone. But when my brain caught up with it all, something broke. I later found out that all the tragedy at once had caused a physical head trauma, and my brain was sending false signals of excruciating pain and panic.

I am God’s downstairs neighbor, banging on the ceiling with a broomstick. I show up at His door every day. Sometimes with songs, sometimes with curses. Sometimes apologies, gifts, questions, demands. Sometimes I use my key under the mat to let myself in. Other times, I sulk outside until He opens the door to me Himself.

I have called Him a cheat and a liar, and I meant it. I have told Him I wanted to die, and I meant it. Tears have become the only prayer I know. Prayers roll over my nostrils and drip down my forearms. They fall to the ground as I reach for Him. These are the prayers I repeat night and day; sunrise, sunset.

Call me bitter if you want to—that’s fair. Count me among the angry, the cynical, the offended, the hardened. But count me also among the friends of God. For I have seen Him in rare form. I have felt His exhale, laid in His shadow, squinted to read the message He wrote for me in the grout: “I’m sad too.”

If an explanation would help, He would write me one—I know it. But maybe an explanation would only start an argument between us—and I don’t want to argue with God. I want to lay in a hammock with Him and trace the veins in His arms.

I remind myself that I’m praying to the God who let the Israelites stay lost for decades. They begged to arrive in the Promised Land, but instead He let them wander, answering prayers they didn’t pray. For forty years, their shoes didn’t wear out. Fire lit their path each night. Every morning, He sent them mercy-bread from heaven.

I look hard for the answers to the prayers that I didn’t pray. I look for the mercy-bread that He promised to bake fresh for me each morning. The Israelites called it manna, which means “what is it?”

That’s the same question I’m asking—again, and again. There’s mercy here somewhere—but what is it? What is it? What is it?

I see mercy in the dusty sunlight that outlines the trees, in my mother’s crooked hands, in the blanket my friend left for me, in the harmony of the wind chimes. It’s not the mercy that I asked for, but it is mercy nonetheless. And I learn a new prayer: thank you. It’s a prayer I don’t mean yet, but will repeat until I do.

Call me cursed, call me lost, call me scorned. But that’s not all. Call me chosen, blessed, sought-after. Call me the one who God whispers his secrets to. I am the one whose belly is filled with loaves of mercy that were hidden for me.

Even on days when I’m not so sick, sometimes I go lay on the mat in the afternoon light to listen for Him. I know it sounds crazy, and I can’t really explain it, but God is in there—even now. I have heard it said that some people can’t see God because they won’t look low enough, and it’s true. Look lower. God is on the bathroom floor.”


“Psalm 25:

1 A Psalm of David. Unto thee, O LORD, do I lift up my soul.

2 O my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me.

3 Yea, let none that wait on thee be ashamed: let them be ashamed which transgress without cause.

4 Shew me thy ways, O LORD; teach me thy paths.

5 Lead me in thy truth, and teach me: for thou art the God of my salvation; on thee do I wait all the day.

6 Remember, O LORD, thy tender mercies and thy lovingkindnesses; for they have been ever of old.

7 Remember not the sins of my youth, nor my transgressions: according to thy mercy remember thou me for thy goodness’ sake, O LORD.

8 Good and upright is the LORD: therefore will he teach sinners in the way.

9 The meek will he guide in judgment: and the meek will he teach his way.”