Goethe, On Proverbs and Reflections

"Nothing is more terrible than ignorance in action."

"Nothing is more damaging to a new truth than an old error."

Sprüche in Prosa (Proverbs in Prose, 1819) 

"Very often when we have found ourselves forever separated from 

what we had intended to achieve, we have already, on our way, found something else worth desiring."

Maxims and Reflections (1833)

Author: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Johann_Wolfgang_von_Goethe

... his death as a minor side note.

Saturday April 28th 1849.   This morning I understand that the Party of Indians who passed here on the 20th inst.  Under the Little Chief attacted Wanship's party somewhere on Ogdon's Fork and killed some (& amongst the rest the lad which we took prisoner in the Utah Valley on the 5th of March. [crossed out])  They also killed some 40 horses and took the rest   The Little Chief and one of his men were also killed.

To day the Legion was organized according to the appointment last Sunday.  There was two Regiment formed one of horse & one foot constituting the First & Second Cohorts.

Daniel H. Wells Major General.	Willard Snow   Major 1 B. 1 R. 1 C.
J. M. Grant   Brigr Gen First Cohort	Ira Eldrege   do   2 B. 1 R. 1 C.
H. S. Eldredge   do   do   Second   Do.	A. Lytle   - do 1 B 2 R. 2 C.
John S. Fulmer   Col 1st R. 1st C.	H. Herriman – do 2 B. 2 R. 2 C.
John Scott   Col 1st R. 2 C.

There was Companies organized.  I fell into 2 C. 2 B. 1 R. 1 C.  Benjm F. Johnson Capt   Having the honor of being first Lieut my-self.  This is rising some in the world.  Because when the Legion was organized in 1840 I held the office of Second Leut whereas I am now promoted a little.

One circumstance took place today which I never saw before   John Pack & John D. Lee were each put in nomination for Majors by regular authority & both most contemptestously hissed down.  When any person is thus duly nominated I never before knew the people to reject it   But on this occasion it appears that they are both a perfect stink in every body's nose   The reasons of which is not needful to relate.

To day about two o'clock P. M. Alvin Horr, one of the Presidents of the Eleventh Quorum to which I belong, died of Dropsey.  He had been afflicted a long time & came here from the bluffs for his health leaving his family

(Journal of Hosea Stout)

Memories of Momma

When I was a kid I didn't have a cell, laptop, internet, XBox, or Wii, but I wanted a TRS-80.  I didn't have a bike, or a curfew.  My toys were the outside world, rain or shine. I could not eat what Mamma did not make. I would have liked to tell my Momma "no" but she was not home.   It was a not a good life... and I survived.

No one would say my Mom was a saint, but she was not a devil.   She was a girl that married too young and grew up with her children, I grew to love me Mom.  

On being a cracked pot

English bluebells in spring of Ashbridge Park, Hertfordshire. (photo: UK Garden Photos/Flickr, cc by-nc-nd 2.0)

“Back in the days when pots and pans could talk, which indeed they still do, there lived a man. And in order to have water, every day he had to walk down the hill and fill two pots and walk them home.

One day, it was discovered one of the pots had a crack, and as time went on, the crack widened. Finally, the pot turned to the man and said, ‘You know, every day you take me to the river, and by the time you get home, half of the water’s leaked out. Please replace me with a better pot.’

And the man said, ‘You don’t understand. As you spill, you water the wild flowers by the side of the path.’ And sure enough, on the side of the path where the cracked pot was carried, beautiful flowers grew, while other side was barren.

‘I think I’ll keep you,’ said the man."

(Keven Kling)

http://blog.onbeing.org/post/19950139131/the-story-of-the-cracked-pot-by-trent-gilliss 

On "The Spit of the Soldiers"

The whipping was the first deed of the soldiers.

The crucifixion was the third. (No, I didn’t skip the second. We’ll get to that in a moment.) Though his back was ribboned with wounds, the soldiers loaded the crossbeam on Jesus’ shoulders and marched him to the Place of a Skull and executed him.

We don’t fault the soldiers for these two actions. After all, they were just following orders. But what’s hard to understand is what they did in between. Here is Matthew’s description:

Jesus was beaten with whips and handed over to the soldiers to be crucified. The governor’s soldiers took Jesus into the governor’s palace, and they all gathered around him. They took off his clothes and put a red robe on him. Using thorny branches, they made a crown, put it on his head, and put a stick in his right hand. Then the soldiers bowed before Jesus and made fun of him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They spat on Jesus. Then they took his stick and began to beat him on the head. After they finished, the soldiers took off the robe and put his own clothes on him again. Then they led him away to be crucified. (Matt. 27:26–31 NCV)

The soldiers’ assignment was simple: Take the Nazarene to the hill and kill him. But they had another idea. They wanted to have some fun first. Strong, rested, armed soldiers encircled an exhausted, nearly dead, Galilean carpenter and beat up on him. The scourging was commanded. The crucifixion was ordered. But who would draw pleasure out of spitting on a half-dead man?

Spitting isn’t intended to hurt the body—it can’t. Spitting is intended to degrade the soul, and it does. What were the soldiers doing? Were they not elevating themselves at the expense of another? They felt big by making Christ look small.

Allow the spit of the soldiers to symbolize the filth in our hearts. And then observe what Jesus does with our filth. He carries it to the cross.

Through the prophet he said, “I did not hide my face from mocking and spitting” (Isa. 50:6 NIV). Mingled with his blood and sweat was the essence of our sin.

God could have deemed otherwise. In God’s plan, Jesus was offered wine for his throat, so why not a towel for his face? Simon carried the cross of Jesus, but he didn’t mop the cheek of Jesus. Angels were a prayer away. Couldn’t they have taken the spittle away?

They could have, but Jesus never commanded them to. For some reason, the One who chose the nails also chose the saliva. Along with the spear and the sponge of man, he bore the spit of man.

The sinless One took on the face of a sinner so that we sinners could take on the face of a saint.

From He Chose the Nails: What God Did To Win Your Heart 

Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 2000) Max Lucado

on meeting Patricius (St. Patrick)

On celebration of the day we dedicate to St. Patrick, an early Roman Catholic Bishop, who served in Ireland,  I would like to post a letter attributed to him.  In this letter he shares his testimony and some of his works.  He writes in humility of his love for the Irish and of some of his converts who become martyrs for the faith.

"

A Letter to the Soldiers of Coroticus

Part I
1

I am Patrick, yes a sinner and indeed untaught; yet I am established here in Ireland where I profess myself bishop. I am certain in my heart that "all that I am," I have received from God. So I live among barbarous tribes, a stranger and exile for the love of God. He himself testifies that this is so. I never would have wanted these harsh words to spill from my mouth; I am not in the habit of speaking so sharply. Yet now I am driven by the zeal of God, Christ's truth has aroused me. I speak out too for love of my neighbors who are my only sons; for them I gave up my home country, my parents and even pushing my own life to the brink of death. If I have any worth, it is to live my life for God so as to teach these peoples; even though some of them still look down on me. I Cor. 15:10 Phil. 2:30

2

I myself have composed and written these words with my own hand, so that they can be given and handed over, then sent swiftly to the soldiers of Coroticus. I am not addressing my own people, nor my fellow citizens of the holy Romans, but those who are now become citizens of demons by reason of their evil works. They have chosen, by their hostile deeds, to live in death; comrades of the Scotti and Picts and of all who behave like apostates, bloody men who have steeped themselves in the blood of innocent Christians. The very same people I have begotten for God; their number beyond count, I myself confirmed them in Christ.

3

The very next day after my new converts, dressed all in white, were anointed with chrism, even as it was still gleaming upon their foreheads, they were cruelly cut down and killed by the swords of these same devilish men. At once I sent a good priest with a letter. I could trust him, for I had taught him from his boyhood. He went, accompanied by other priests, to see if we might claw something back from all the looting, most important, the baptized captives whom they had seized. Yet all they did was to laugh in our faces at the mere mention of their prisoners.

4

Because of all this, I am at a loss to know whether to weep more for those they killed or those that are captured: or indeed for these men themselves whom the devil has taken fast for his slaves. In truth, they will bind themselves alongside him in the pains of the everlasting pit: for "he who sins is a slave already" and is to be called "son of the devil." Jn. 8:34, 44 (O.L.)

5

Because of this, let every God-fearing man mark well that to me they are outcasts: cast out also by Christ my God, whose ambassador I am. Patricides, they are, yes and fratricides, no better than ravening wolves devouring God's own people like a loaf of bread. Exactly as it says: "the wicked have scattered your law, 0 Lord," which in these latter days he had planted in Ireland with so much hope and goodness; here it had been taught and nurtured in God's sight. Eph. 6.-20 Acts 20.-29 Ps. 14:4 Ps. 119.126

Part II
6

I do not overreach myself, for I too have my part to play with "those whom he has called to himself and predestined" to teach the gospel in the midst of considerable persecutions "as far as the ends of the earth, even if the enemy reveals h's true envy through the tyranny of Coroticus, who fears neither God nor the priests whom he has chosen and to whom he has given the highest divine power, namely that "those whom they bind on earth are bound in heaven." Rom. 8:30 Matt. 16:19

7

Accordingly, I beseech especially you "holy and humble in heart," that it is unlawful to flatter men like these, nor should you eat or drink in their company, neither should anyone feel any obligation to receive alms from such men; not until the time comes when they do penances so harsh that their tears pour out to God, and that they agree to free those servants of God and the baptized handmaids of Christ. For these did he die, for them was he crucified. Dan. 3:87

8

"The Almighty turns away from the gifts of wicked men." "He who offers sacrifice from the goods of the poor, is like a man who sacrifices a son in the sight of his own father." "Those riches," it is written, "which he has gathered in unjustly will be vomited out of his belly." "And now the angel of death comes to drag him away. He will be mauled by angry dragons, killed by the serpent's tongue. Moreover, everlasting fire is consuming him." So, "Woe to those who feast themselves on things that are not their own." Or, "What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and suffers the loss of his own soul?" Ecclus. 34:19-20 Job 20.15-16, 26 Hab. 2:6 Matt. 16.-26

9

It would take too long to discuss or argue every single case, or to sift through the whole of the Law for precise witness against such greed. Sufficient to say, greed is a deadly deed. You shall not covet your neighbor's goods. You shall not murder. A homicide may not stand beside Christ. Even "He who bates his brother is to be labeled murderer." Or, "He who does not love his brother dwells in death." therefore how much more guilty is he, who has stained his own hands in the blood of the sons of God, those very children whom only just now he has won for himself in this distant land by means of our feeble encouragement. Rom. 13:9 Exod. 20:13, 17 I Jn. 3:15, 14

Part III

10

Could I have come to Ireland without thought of God, merely in my own interest? Who was it made me come? For here "I am a prisoner of the Spirit" so that I may not see any of my family. Can it be out of the kindness of my heart that I carry out such a labor of mercy on a people who once captured me when they wrecked my father's house and carried off his servants? For by descent I was a freeman, born of a decurion father; yet I have sold this nobility of mine, I am not ashamed, nor do I regret that it might have meant some advantage to others. In short, I am a slave in Christ to this faraway people for the indescribable glory of "everlasting life which is in Jesus Christ our Lord." Acts 20.22 Rom. 6.-23

11

And if my own do not want to know me, well and good, "a prophet is not honored in his own country." Indeed, perhaps we are not "from the same sheepfold," or possibly we do not have "one and the same Father for our God." As he says, "He who is not with me, is against me" and he who "does not gather with me, scatters." We are at cross purposes: "One destroys; another builds." "I do not seek things that are mine." Not by my grace, but it is God "who has given such care in my heart," so that I should be among "the hunters or fishers" whom God foretold "in those final days." Jn. 4:44 Jn. 10:16 Eph. 4:6 Matt. 12:30 Ecclus. 34:23 I Cor. 13:5 11 Cor. 8:16

12

They are jealous of me. What am I to do, Lord? How bitterly they despise me! just see how your sheep are torn apart and despoiled, and by those gangsters I have named, bound to the last man by the inimical mind of Coroticus. Far away from the love of God is the man who betrays my Christians into the hands of the Scotti and Picts. "Ravenous wolves" have gulped down the Lord's own flock, which was flourishing in Ireland and tended with utmost care. Now I have lost count how many sons and daughters of the kings of the Scotti have become monks and virgins of Christ. For which reason, "may these injuries done to the just not find favor in your sight," even "to the lowest depths of hell may you not be pleased."

13

Which of the saints would not refuse to feast and decline the company of such men? See how they have filled their houses with the spoils of dead Christians? Why, they devote their lives to plunder! Miserable men, they have no idea how they feed poison, food that surely kills, to their friends and even to their own children; just as Eve never realized that she was handing out certain death to her own man, her husband. It is always the same with those who do evil: they labor long only to yield death as their everlasting punishment.

14

Roman Christians in Gaul behave quite differently: it is their custom to send holy, capable men to the Franks and other nations with several thousand soldiers so as to redeem Christian prisioners, yet YOU would rather kill or sell them on to a far-off tribe who know nothing of the true God. You might as well consign Christ's own members to a whorehouse. What kind of hope can you have left in God? Can you still trust someone who says he agrees with you? Do you listen still to all those flatterers who surround you? God alone will judge. For it is written, "Not only those who do evil, but also all those who agree with them, are to be

15

For myself, I do not know "what I shall say," or how "I may speak anymore" of those who are dead of these children of God-whom the sword has struck down so harshly, beyond all belief. For it Is written, "Weep with those that weep, and again "If one member grieves, then all members should grieve together." Because of this, the whole Church "cries out and for its sons and daughters" who so far have not been killed by the sword. For they have been taken far away and abandoned in a land where sin abounds, openly, wickedly, impudently; there freeborn men are sold, Christians are reduced to slavery, and worst of all among the most worthless and vilest apostates, the Picts. Jn. 12:49 Rom. 12:15 1 Cor. 12:26 Matt. 2:18,- Jer. 31:15

16

Because of all this, my voice is raised in sorrow and mourning. Oh, my most beautiful, my lovely brethren and my sons "whom I begot in Christ," I have lost count of your number, what can I do to help you now? I am not worthy to come to the help of God or men. "We have been overwhelmed by the wickedness of unjust men," it is as if "we had been made outsiders." They find it unacceptable that we are Irish. But it says "Is it not true that you all have but one God? Why then have you, each one of you, abandoned your own neighbor?" I Cor. 4:15 Ps. 65:3 Ps. 69:8 Eph. 4:5, 6 MaL 2:10

Part IV

17

And therefore I grieve for you, how I mourn for you, who are so very dear to me, but again I can rejoice within my heart, not for nothing "have I labored," neither has my exile been "in vain."

And if this wicked deed, so horrible, so unutterable, had to happen, thanks be to God, as men, believing and baptized, you have left this world behind for paradise. I can see you all clearly: you have set out for where "there will be no more night," "no more lament, neither death."

"There your hearts will leap, like calves let free from the tether, and you will trample down the wicked underfoot, and they will be like dust under your feet."

 Phil. 2:16 Apoc. 22:5, 21:4 MaL 4:Z 3

18

Therefore will you reign with the apostles and the prophets and all the martyrs. You will attain the eternal kingdoms. just as he testifies, exactly as he declares: "They will come from East and the West, and they will rest with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven." "While outside howl the dogs, the poisoners, the homicides," and "Their fate, with liars and perjurers, is the lake of everlasting fire." Where, says the Apostle, not without reason, "The 'Just man will scarcely be saved, yet the sinner and the flagrant lawbreaker, where shall he stand?"

Matt. 8:11 Apoc. 22:15 Apoc. 21:8 I Pet. 4:18

19

And so, now you, Coroticus-and your gangsters, rebels all against Christ, now where do you see yourselves? You gave away girls like prizes: not yet women, but baptized. All for some petty temporal gain that will pass in the very next instant. "Like a cloud passes, or smoke blown in the wind," so will "sinners, who cheat, slip away from the face of the Lord. But the just will feast for sure" with Christ. "They will judge the nations" and unjust kings "they will lord over" for world after world. Amen. Wisd. 5:14 Ps. 68:2, 3; 3:8

20

I bear witness before God and his angels that this will come about, just as he has revealed my lack of learning. To repeat: these are not my words, but God's own words-and the apostle's and the prophets', which I have merely chiseled out in Latin: and they have never lied. "He who is found to have believed will be saved; but he who did not believe will be condemned, God has spoken." Mk. 16:15, 16

21

My chief request is that anyone who is a servant of God be ready and willing, to carry this letter forward; may it never be hidden or stolen by anyone, but rather, may it be read aloud before the whole people-Yes, even when Coroticus himself is present.

May God inspire these men sometime to come to their senses in regard to God again, so that they may repent, however latter day, of their grave crimes, namely homicide against the brothers of the Lord, and that they free these baptized women whom they have taken, so that then they may deserve to live to God and be made whole once more, here, now and for eternity.

Peace to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.  

AMEN."

( The Confession of St. Patrick.)
http://books.google.com/books?id=EM0CAAAAQAAJ&pg=PA45&dq=the+confessions+of+st.+patrick&hl=en&sa=X&ei=-UZjT_uIM-WriALOs9WjDw&ved=0CDsQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=the%20confessions%20of%20st.%20patrick&f=false

on meeting Cornelius

“Cornelius

Cornelius was an officer in the Roman army. Both Gentile and bad guy. He ate the wrong food, hung with the wrong crowd, and swore allegiance to Caesar. He didn’t quote the Torah or descend from Abraham. Uncircumcised, unkosher, unclean. Look at him.

Yet look at him again. Closely. He helped needy people and sympathized with Jewish ethics. He was kind and devout. “One who feared God with all his household, who gave alms generously to the people, and prayed to God always” (Acts 10:2 NKJV). Cornelius was even on a first-name basis with an angel. The angel told him to get in touch with Peter, who was staying at a friend’s house thirty miles away in the seaside town of Joppa. Cornelius sent three men to find him.

Peter, meanwhile, was doing his best to pray with a growling stomach. He saw a vision of a sheet that contained enough unkosher food to uncurl the payos of any Hasidic Jew. Peter absolutely and resolutely refused. “Not so, Lord! For I have never eaten anything common or unclean” (v. 14 NKJV).

But God wasn’t kidding about this. He three-peated the vision, leaving poor Peter in a quandary. Peter was pondering the pigs in the blanket when he heard a knock at the door. At the sound of the knock, he heard the call of God’s Spirit in his heart. “Behold, three men are seeking you. Arise therefore, go down and go with them, doubting nothing; for I have sent them” (vv. 19–20 NKJV).

“Doubting nothing” can also be translated “make no distinction” or “indulge in no prejudice” or “discard all partiality.” This was a huge moment for Peter.

Cast of Characters - Lost & FoundMuch to his credit, Peter invited the messengers to spend the night and headed out the next morning to meet Cornelius. When Peter arrived, he confessed how difficult this decision had been. “You know that we Jews are not allowed to have anything to do with other people. But God has shown me that he doesn’t think anyone is unclean or unfit” (v. 28 CEV). Peter told Cornelius about Jesus and the gospel, and before Peter could issue an invitation, the presence of the Spirit was among them, and they were replicating Pentecost—speaking in tongues and glorifying God.

And us? We are still pondering verse 28: “God has shown me that he doesn’t think anyone is unclean or unfit.”

In our lifetimes you and I are going to come across some discarded people. Tossed out. Sometimes tossed out by a church. And we get to choose. Neglect or rescue? Label them or love them? We know Jesus’ choice. Just look at what he did with us.”

 (Encounters with the Living God, Max Lucado ; Copyright  Thomas Nelson 2012)

On giving advice to our children

   

 I have found the best way to give advice

 to your children is to find out what they want

 and then advise them to do it. 

Harry S. Truman
Interview with Edward R. Murrow,
CBS Television (27 May 1955)

   

(March of Dimes, January 13, 1950)

on Virtue, Knowledge and Disagreement

"I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue,

 unexercised and unbreathed, 

that never sallies out and sees her adversary, 

but slinks out of the race 

where that immortal garland  is to be run for, 

not without dust and heat."  .....

"Where there is much desire to learn, 

here of necessity will be much arguing,

 much writing, many opinions; 

for opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making."

(John Milton, Areopagitica)

On the state of change.

The only constant is change.

(Heraclitus of Ephesus (fl.535 BC - 475 BC))

On finding oneself in agreement with the Majority

Whenever you find yourself,
 on the side of the majority,

it is time to reform 
(or pause and reflect).

Mark Twain- Notebook, 1904

( Mark Twain (Samuel L. Clemens) [center] George Alfred Townsend on [his] right, David Gray on [hsl]left portrait, Feb 7, 1871)

From One Father to Another

From One Father to Another

This isn’t the way I planned it, God. Not at all. My child being born in a stable? This isn’t the way I thought it would be. A cave with sheep and donkeys, hay and straw? My wife giving birth with only the stars to hear her pain?

This isn’t at all what I imagined. No, I imagined family. I imagined grandmothers. I imagined neighbors clustered outside the door and friends standing at my side. I imagined the house erupting with the first cry of the infant. Slaps on the back. Loud laughter. Jubilation.

That’s how I thought it would be.

But now…Who will celebrate with us? The sheep? The shepherds?

The stars?

This doesn’t seem right. What kind of husband am I? I provide no midwife to aid my wife. No bed to rest her back. Her pillow is a blanket from my donkey.

Did I miss something? Did I, God?

When you sent the angel and spoke of the son being born—this isn’t what I pictured. I envisioned Jerusalem, the temple, the priests, and the people gathered to watch. A pageant perhaps. A parade. A banquet at least. I mean, this is the Messiah!

Or, if not born in Jerusalem, how about Nazareth? Wouldn’t Nazareth have been better? At least there I have my house and my business. Out here, what do I have? A weary mule, a stack of firewood, and a pot of warm water. This is not the way I wanted it to be!... Forgive me for asking but … is this how God enters the world? The coming of the angel, I’ve accepted. The questions people asked about the pregnancy, I can tolerate. The trip to Bethlehem, fine. But why a birth in a stable, God?

Any minute now Mary will give birth. Not to a child, but to the Messiah. Not to an infant, but to God. That’s what the angel said. That’s what Mary believes. And, God, my God, that’s what I want to believe. But surely you can understand; it’s not easy. It seems so … so … so … bizarre.

I’m unaccustomed to such strangeness, God. I’m a carpenter. I make things fit. I square off the edges. I follow the plumb line. I measure twice before I cut once. Surprises are not the friend of a builder. I like to know the plan. I like to see the plan before I begin.

But this time I’m not the builder, am I? This time I’m a tool. A hammer in your grip. A nail between your fingers. A chisel in your hands. This project is yours, not mine.

I guess it’s foolish of me to question you. Forgive my struggling. Trust doesn’t come easy to me, God. But you never said it would be easy, did you?

One final thing, Father. The angel you sent? Any chance you could send another? If not an angel, maybe a person? I don’t know anyone around here and some company would be nice. Maybe the innkeeper or a traveler? Even a shepherd would do.

One Incredible Savior: Celebrating the Majesty of the Manger
Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 2011) Max Lucado

on the song of friendship

"A friend is someone 

who knows the song in your heart 

and can sing it back to you 

when you have forgotten the words."

- Bernard Meltzer

Calvin and Hobbes: Math Is a Religion

http://blog.onbeing.org/post/250746172/calvin-and-hobbes-math-is-a-religion

On Schrodinger's cat

On aging and family

"We often write seldomest to those whom we love the most.  The distance to which I am removed has given a new value to all I valued before in my country, and the day of my return will be the  happiest I expect to see in this life……

I find as I grow older that I love those most whom I loved first.”  

 [Thomas Jefferson writing from Paris France to his sister, Mary Jefferson Bolling, July 23, 1787]

 (Thomas Jefferson: and intimate history, Fawn Brody)

A Queen's Prayer

O  Lord God Father everlasting, which reignest over over the Kingdom of men,

and givest them of thy pleasure: which of thy great mercy hast chosen thy servant and handmaid to feed thy people and thine inheritance: so teach me, I humbly beseech thee, thy word, and so strengthen me with thy grace, that I may feed thy people with a faithful and a true heart;  and rule them prudently with power.

O Lord, thou hast set me on high, my flesh is frail and weak.  If I therefore anytime forget thee, touch my heart O Lord that I may again remember thee.  If I swell against thee, pluck me down in my own conceit.

Create therefore in me O Lord a new heart and so renew my spirit within me that thy law may be study,  thy truth my delight; thy church my care:  thy people my crown. 

(Elizabeth Tudor, Queen of England)

[O Book of Devotions Composed by Her Majesty, with translations by Adam Fox (Gerrards Cross, Buckinghampshire, 1970),  pp 41-42

From the Life of George Albert Smith

When he was 34 years old, George Albert Smith made a list of resolutions that he called his “personal creed”—11 ideals that he committed to live by:

• “I would be a friend to the friendless and find joy in ministering to the needs of the poor.
• “I would visit the sick and afflicted and inspire in them a desire for faith to be healed.
• “I would teach the truth to the understanding and blessing of all mankind.
• “I would seek out the erring one and try to win him back to a righteous and a happy life.
• “I would not seek to force people to live up to my ideals but rather love them into doing the thing that is right.
• “I would live with the masses and help to solve their problems that their earth life may be happy.
• “I would avoid the publicity of high positions and discourage the flattery of thoughtless friends.
• “I would not knowingly wound the feelings of any, not even one who may have wronged me, but would seek to do him good and make him my friend.
• “I would overcome the tendency to selfishness and jealousy and rejoice in the successes of all the children of my Heavenly Father.
• “I would not be an enemy to any living soul.

(Teachings of Presidents of the Church: George Albert Smith, 2010, Chapter 1.)

On the tears of a woman

A little boy asked his mother, "Why are you crying?" 

"Because I'm a woman," she told him.

"I don't understand," he said.

His Mom just hugged him and said,

"And you never will."

Later the little boy asked his father,

"Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?"

"All women cry for no reason,"

was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man,
still wondering why women cry.

Finally he put in a call to God. 
When God got on the phone, he asked,
"God, why do women cry so easily?"

God said,

"When I made the woman she had to be special.

• I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world,
• yet gentle enough to give comfort.
• I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children.
• I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue without complaining.
• I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt her very badly.
• I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.
• I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him unfaltering.

And finally,  

I gave her a tear to shed. 

This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed."



  
"You see my son," said God,

• "the beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears,
• the figure that she carries, 
• or the way she combs her hair.

The beauty of a woman must be 

seen in her eyes, 

because that is the doorway to her heart 

- the place where love resides."

on the foolish and the dead

The imputation of inconsistency is one to which ... every honest thinker must sooner or later subject himself. The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinion. 

( and essay on "Abraham Lincoln", 

published 1864–1865, by James Russell Lowell)

Thomas Mores final prayer

Give me the grace, Good Lord

• To set the world at naught.
• To set the mind firmly on You and not to hang upon the words of men's mouths.
• To be content to be solitary. Not to long for worldly pleasures. Little by little utterly to cast off the world and rid my mind of all its business. Not to long to hear of earthly things, but that the hearing of worldly fancies may be displeasing to me.

Gladly to be thinking of God, piteously to call for His help.

• To lean into the comfort of God. Busily to labor to love Him.
• To know my own vileness and wretchedness.
• To humble myself under the mighty hand of God.
• To bewail my sins and, for the purging of them, patiently to suffer adversity.

Margaret's Final Farewell to More

Painting at Tyburn Convent, London

Gladly to bear my purgatory here.

• To be joyful in tribulations.
• To walk the narrow way that leads to life.
• To have the last thing in remembrance.
• To have ever before my eyes my death that is ever at hand.
• To make death no stranger to me.
• To foresee and consider the everlasting fire of Hell.
• To pray for pardon before the judge comes.
• To have continually in mind the passion that Christ suffered for me. For His benefits unceasingly to give Him thanks.
• To buy the time again that I have lost.
• To abstain from vain conversations.
• To shun foolish mirth and gladness.
• To cut off unnecessary recreations.

Of worldly substance, friends, liberty, life and all, to set the loss at naught, for the winning of Christ.


To think my worst enemies my best friends, for the brethren of Joseph could never have done him so much good with their love and favor as they did him with their malice and hatred.


These minds are more to be desired of every man than all the treasures of all the princes and kings, Christian and heathen, were it gathered and laid together all in one heap.


Amen

(http://www.catholicprimer.org/home/prayer/Prayer_of_St_Thomas_More, November 11, 2011)

William Tyndale's final letter

"I believe, right worshipful, that you are not ignorant of what has been determined concerning me [by the Council of Brabant]; therefore I entreat your lordship and that by the Lord Jesus, that if I am to remain here [in Vilvorde] during the winter, you will request the Procureur  [public prosecutor] to be kind enough to send me from my goods which he has in his possession, 

• a warmer cap, for I suffer extremely from cold in the head, being afflicted with a perpetual catarrh [ inflammation of a mucous membrane] , which is considerably increased in this cell. 
• A warmer coat also, for that which I have is very thin: 
• also a piece of cloth to patch my leggings:
•  my overcoat is worn out; my shirts are also worn out. 
• He has a woollen shirt of mine, if he will be kind enough to send it. 
• I have also with him leggings of thicker cloth for putting on above;
•  he also has warmer caps for wearing at night. 
• I wish also his permission to have a lamp in the evening, for it is wearisome to sit alone in the dark.

 But above all, I entreat and beseech your clemency to be urgent with the Procureur that he may kindly permit me to have my 

• Hebrew Bible, 
• Hebrew Grammar,
• and Hebrew Dictionary,

that I may spend my time with that study.


And in return, may you obtain your dearest wish, provided always it be consistent with the salvation of your soul,  but if, before the end of the winter, a different decision be reached concerning me, I shall be patient, abiding the will of God to the glory of the grace of my Lord Jesus Christ, whose Spirit, I pray, may ever direct your heart. Amen."

Tittle Page Great Bible 1538-1540

Even in looking towards his own death William's last thought's were to souls of the men who was seeking to take his life. 


These are not the thoughts of a martyr. 


If the King of England would authorize an English edition of the Bible,  William  would come home, to cease his Bible translation, and live a quiet, private life. 


His last words, were a prayer to his Maker.  "God please open the eyes of the King of England".


He was martyred on or near 6 October 1536 in the castle of Vilvoorde near Brussels.  Within four years, at the Kings request,  four English editions were published based upon his work.

ON Mommas’ Afghan.

Momma loved to knit afghan’s.  They helped her to pass the time when she was watching television.  Her Momma taught her how to crochet as a young child.  I can remember many hours watching her crochet.  She had crocheted so long she no longer watched her stitching, it was a mechanical motion more like walking or chewing gum.  I wonder if it helped her to think.

Mom decided each of her children needed a good heavy afghan.  She had collected many small balls of yarn from previous project’s  The afghan’s were heavy.  They had a heavy double stitch, one color on each side.  The afghan were so heavy they were best used in the winter.

Each afghan required a year to complete. She worked on those afghans for  four years.  Each year one of her children received an afghan for Christmas.  I wonder if she thought about her children as she was knitting each one of them their afghan.  One child could not read well and had difficulty in school.   He was color blind and had trouble telling his colors apart.   One children read well but had difficulty speaking to people his own age.  He never dated much, but was fortunate to find a good woman who understood him.  One child never ate enough and had to be reminded when it was time to eat.  This child still struggles with her  weight and is now developing M.S.  One child struggled with her first marriage and lived with Mom for a couple years.  Mom helped her to raise her sons until a man came along who loved her boys and adopted them as his own.  They now have five more children and how do they keep her busy.

Momma married young and grew up with her children.  Her husband was a challenge.  Signs of high functioning Autism and hyperactivity are present in the male line of his family.  Momma would never have understood these words she just knew Dad had a tough time filtering his thoughts. He spoke out in inappropriate times and in inappropriate places.  My Dad and his Father were forbidden to be in the Smith Brother Lumber Company together.  One of them at a time was more then a handful.

Each fall my wife pulls the afghan out of the closet and puts is on our bed.  I love to fell warm and comforted by it’s weight.

The afghan reminds of my mother and her life.  The afghan is no longer perfect like it was when my mother gave it to me.  A few years ago I snagged it on a piece of furniture.  Their is a small stitch torn out of one side.  My mamma's life was like this afghan.  It was no loner perfect like it had been when her Momma gave life to her.  Even though this afghan is no longer perfect it is still functional and fulfills its purpose.  I have ask my wife to repair the snagged.  My wife is skilled in the art of crochet.   She tells me it is not possible to repair the snag.  Even if she did repair the afghan it would no longer be the afghan my mother crocheted.  As the year go by I learn to appreciate the afghan for it beauty and its flaw.  It becomes more real with time like Margery Williams Velveteen rabbit (see. The Velveteen Rabbit or How Toys Become Real )

Now my Mom is gone now and all I have is the afghan.  My Mom, like her quilt became more real with time.  She was deeply flawed.  She loved her children and she loved her husband.  And now all I have is the afghan.  I longer have the hate and bitterness and enmity, all I have is the afghan and it still warms.

If  you have the opportunity to live and love, to forgive and to forget, please do.  And leave some memories and if possible something that is real like Mommas afghan.

A Meditation upon a Broomstick (1703)

by Jonathan Swift (1667-1745)

This single stick, which you now behold ingloriously lying in that neglected corner, I once knew in a flourishing state in a forest. It was full of sap, full of leaves, and full of boughs, but now in vain does the busy art of man pretend to vie with nature by tying that withered bundle of twigs to its sapless trunk. It is now at best but the reverse of what it was: a tree turned upside down, the branches on the earth, and the root in the air. It is now handled by every dirty wench, condemned to do her drudgery, and by a capricious kind of fate destined to make other things clean and be nasty itself. At length, worn to the stumps in the service of the maids, it is either thrown out of doors or condemned to its last use of kindling a fire. When I beheld this, I sighed and said within myself, surely mortal man is a broomstick: nature sent him into the world strong and lusty, in a thriving condition, wearing his own hair on his head, the proper branches of this reasoning vegetable, until the axe of intemperance has lopped off his green boughs and left him a withered trunk; he then flies to art, and puts on a periwig, valuing himself upon an unnatural bundle of hairs, all covered with powder, that never grew on his head. But now should this our broomstick pretend to enter the scene, proud of those birchen spoils it never bore, and all covered with dust, though the sweepings of the finest lady's chamber, we should be apt to ridicule and despise its vanity, partial judges that we are of our own excellencies and other men's defaults.

But a broomstick, perhaps, you will say, is an emblem of a tree standing on its head. And pray, what is man, but a topsy-turvy creature, his animal faculties perpetually mounted on his rational, his head where his heels should be, groveling on the earth? And yet with all his faults, he sets up to be a universal reformer and corrector of abuses, a remover of grievances; rakes into every slut's corner of nature, bringing hidden corruption to the light; and raises a mighty dust where there was none before, sharing deeply all the while in the very same pollutions he pretends to sweep away. His last days are spent in slavery to women, and generally the least deserving, till, worn out to the stumps, like his brother bezom, he is either kicked out of doors, or made use of to kindle flames for others to warm themselves by.

Two Trains and a Dream

Et in Arcadia Ego.
Virgil

("And I (death) am even in Arcadia."
 "Arcadia" is another word for a pastoral paradise.)

The ways of God are unknowable to man.

Saint Augustine

The bow of God's wrath is bent,
 and justice bends the arrow at your heart.

Jonathan Edwards

All the minds and spirits God ever sent into the world
are susceptible
of enlargement and improvement.

Joseph Smith

I. OCTOBER 8, 1908: A TRAIN

Pulled out of Green River, Wyoming, heading
West toward Salt Lake City. The Mormon prophet,
Joseph F. Smith, was going home from a visit
to Boston, with his traveling companion.
He saw the flash of white butts as a herd
Of antelope, coming in from the north, turned
Away from the train and bounced through the sage,
And he thought how sixty years before, aged twelve, he had
Watched such plenitude of beasts on this same route,
Then on a wagon seat next to his mother
As she managed their team on the pioneer trek
After his father, Hyrum, was shot
With Joseph at Carthage. The car was hot,
So he walked to the back, out onto
A polished wood platform with a wrought iron rail—
And heard a voice say, “Go in and sit down.”
He turned back but then stopped, wondering if he had
Imagined the voice, when it came again: “Sit down.”
Just as he reached his seat, the train hit
A broken rail and the engine and most
Of the cars (not his) went off the tracks.
The companion later wrote that the prophet
Would have been badly hurt if he hadn't sat down,
Because all of the cars were “jammed up bad.”

II. MAY 25, 1999: A TRAIN OUT OF BOSTON

Boston, leaving Providence, Rhode Island,

Struck Julia Toledo, from a

Mormon family in Ecuador

And her four sons, walking on the tracks.

All were killed instantly, except Jose, ten,

Who died in two days. They had just left a

Transition shelter where they stuffed their packs

With clothes, coloring books, tiny dolls—all found

Along the tracks, with shoes, torn packs, a bloody

Bible. Julia had led them through a break

In the fence for a shortcut to someplace,

Fleeing, some said, an abusive husband

Who had tried to steal his sons. But he,

Located in Ecuador, heart-broken, said no,

There was trouble with his in-laws because he was

Still Catholic. Others said it was

Julia's sister, tired of baby-sitting,

Had driven them out to homelessness.

They had climbed a short trail up the traprock

Of the railbed, walked two miles before Jose

Got separated, to the north side.

Julia, carrying Pedro, pulling Angel

And Carlos, was just lunging across

To reach him when the train struck them all.

III. IN MY DREAM GOD IS LISTENING, CAREFULLY,

As I tell him these stories and ask him,

“Which of these trains, children, was in your hands?”

We are both seated, quite comfortably,

On a green satin French provincial

Couch, in a room painted by Watteau—

The transition room in Kubrick's 2001.

God asks me if I am proud or rebellious.

I notice that he is luminous under his robe,

And his face is serene beyond all description,

His skin young, downy, but full of pores.

I can see small white scars across his forehead.

Then tears gather in his eyes, and slowly

Tears begin to drop like blood from every pore.

I ask again, “Which train is on your hands?”

And he sets his face toward me like flint: “Both. All.”

EUGENE ENGLAND
JANUARY 2000

© 2010 Eugene England Foundation. All rights reserved.

http://www.eugeneengland.org/selected-writings/poetry