Evil may be manifested through weapons of all kinds.
In guns, in knives, canes and even rocks, evil may be displayed.
But only the purging of the root will ever bring about change.
This truth has been revealed since the beginning of time.
Cain had a rock.
Herod had a law.
Romans had a nail.
Nero had a torch.
This one had a knife.
That one had a gun.
The next may have a bomb.
Evil in the heart will always produce evil. Violence is the fruit. Evil is the root.
Let’s purge the heart and return to truth.
It will change the world.
Penned – MG – 5/25/22
A good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth good; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart brings forth evil. For out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.
I lay my head on the pillow to sleep, and you are there.
I am consumed with my thoughts, and you are still there.
It seems I can’t escape you; your presence is always with me.
I walk along the trail with the trees looming, and you are there.
I wade along the shore with the shells shining, and you are there.
I sit among the people with the chatter boxes, and you are there.
It seems I can’t hide from you; your presence is ever with me.
You remind me of a lifelong friend, but I am not sure you are such a companion.
I’d like to be rid of you instead of making you a home.
I rise with the sun, and You are there.
I rest my eyes with the moon, and You are there.
I sort through my feelings and my thinking, and You are still there.
It seems I can’t evade You; Your presence is thick as billowed smoke.
I walk along the streets with the children playing, and You are there.
I hike to the mountaintops with silence deafening, and You are there.
I plunge into the darkness with the fears looming, and You are still there.
It seems I can’t elude You; Your presence is encircled as a cloak.
You remind me that You are a friend, and I am grateful you stick closer than a brother.
I’d like to welcome you for eternity, for Your presence shadows all the pain.
And I will pray the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may abide with you forever— the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him; but you know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you. I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.
There’s no timeframe, no confines, no box in which to place it.
It just is. Grief.
The loss can be a spouse, a child, a parent, a grand, or even a friend.
There’s no hinderance of relation that changes it.
It just is. Grief.
And it can come in waves just like the ocean.
It can be quite peaceful, making you look twice to see if it’s still there.
It can roll in unexpectedly, with riptide and tumultuous waves.
It can swirl around like a hurricane, seemingly with no end and no beginning.
It is just what it is. Grief.
Just as the tide recedes but always returns, so it is with grief and the pain of the loss.
Just as the ocean never stops, but it has its peace and its rage, so it is with grief.
As expanse as the ocean, the emotions of grief.
And sometimes, to cope best is to grab a board and surf the waves.
For only from atop can you clearly view and find the shore.
Penned – MG – 5/11/22
Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth.
Colossians 3:2
We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.
That one who hurts the most has to reach to another.
That one who drains the life takes even the morsel.
That one who cries the longest must be silenced.
That one who glares the hardest is allowed the violence.
Life isn’t always fair.
Life doesn’t always make sense.
Everybody has a story to tell.
Everybody has a scar that shares hell.
There is One who bled while others were hailed.
There is One who winced while others scoffed.
There is One who was pierced while others were passive.
There is One who died while all others lived.
Life isn’t fair, but there is a hope.
Life doesn’t always make sense, but there is a love.
His story is the redemption to tell.
His scars are proof He conquered hell.
Penned – MG – 5/9/22
And He bearing His cross went forth into a place called the place of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew Golgotha: Where they crucified Him, and two other with Him, on either side one, and Jesus in the midst.
John 19:17-18
…who Himself bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, having died to sins, might live for righteousness—by whose stripes you were healed.
1 Peter 2:24
For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.
My soul yearns for a country I’ve not yet entered.
My memory is drawn to a lane it’s never walked.
My eyes search for a site I’ve not yet lived.
I wonder how I can dream of a place I’ve never been, and then I remember.
We’re not home yet.
We’ve not yet received the decree.
We’ve not yet acquired the dream.
We’ve not yet taken hold of the promise.
We’ve not yet been enraptured by the hope.
But rest assured. It’s coming.
Now I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. Also there was no more sea. Then I, John, saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God Himself will be with them and be their God. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.
I make my bed in the morning as I think of the elderly woman fleeing who hasn’t slept in 3 days.
I brush my teeth as I think of the young man who lost his yesterday from shrapnel coming through the window.
I fix my coffee as I think of the little girl who is crying for lack of water in the deep dark train tunnel.
I get dressed as I think of the mother clutching the last dress she has, the one she’s worn for the last ten days as she holds her baby tight, wondering if her world is coming to an end.
War. What is it good for?
That’s the old song. It says it’s good for nothing. It says it brings no solution. It says it only brings heartache and decay.
Remind me. What is it good for?
I jump into my car, driving across town, and I think of the men, barely learning the world, crammed into tanks, being lied to about their missions and their cause.
I sit at my desk as I think of the soldier huddled with his gun, waiting for the shot.
I walk down the hall as I think of the many who may never walk back through their door.
I leave for home as I think of the millions who are fleeing their own, never knowing if they’ll return.
War. What is it good for?
That the age old question. It’s said to be a folly. It’s said to be for purpose. It’s said to be the point in which decisions can be made.
Remind me. What is it good for?
To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under Heaven.
When you’re grouching on your son, but really, you’re grouchy because you’re still seething from the argument with your man.
When you’re snappy with the cashier, but really, you’re wanting to snap at your little girl who accidentally spilt the chips in aisle 3.
When you’re ill with your neighbor, but really, you’re grouchy because the car seat got ripped; you spilled your coffee, and you just dropped your keys while your arms are full.
You came out of nowhere. Although, I knew you were always there. You hit me without warning. Although, I was expecting it everyday.
Blindsided
You flew in like a hurricane. I saw all the warnings, but I kept on driving. You landed like an earthquake. I was wondering, waiting, but I rode on the train
Blindsided
You demanded as a tidal wave. I resisted, yet you kept pushing and taking. You dominated as a tsunami. I revolted, yet you devoured and consumed.
Blindsided
You absorbed like a vacuum bomb. I can’t breathe, and you come back for more You depleted like a hand grenade. I can’t feel, and you return to draw again.
Blindsided
You prance forward as a golden peacock. I weep, yet not for me, for your hidden demise. You shout as a heralded trumpeter. I grieve, yet not for me, for your veiled destruction.
Blindsided
He will come out of nowhere. Although, you’ve known He’s always there. He will hit you without warning. Although, you’ve been expecting Him everyday.
I find myself screaming across the chasm You don’t have to live to die
Blindsided
Penned- MG -3/21/22
Remember therefore how you have received and heard; hold fast and repent. Therefore if you will not watch, I will come upon you as a thief, and you will not know what hour I will come upon you.
Revelation 3:3
Behold, I am coming as a thief. Blessed is he who watches, and keeps his garments, lest he walk naked and they see his shame.
My journey didn’t stop with mere time travel or writing; it led me to become one of the most sought-after empaths, a soulful psychic who reads the hidden depths of the human spirit. I’ve been blessed—or perhaps burdened—with an ability that allows me to feel the emotions of people from every corner of time.
I am a licensed psychologist based in Greece. My love for housekeeping has inspired me to create this blog about home management and family relationships. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!
Dedicated to movie nerdom, nostalgia, and escape. In the late 90s, I worked at Blockbuster Video where they let me take home two free movies a day. I caught up on the classics and reviewed theatrical releases for Denver 'burbs newspapers and magazines. Today, while raising two young, beautiful daughters with my amazing wife, I look forward to anything rated R and not Bluey. Comments and dialogue encouraged!
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