"Never underestimate the power of a small group of committed people to change the world. In fact, it is the only thing that ever has."
Margaret Mead
Or, 'one committed man.'
KUDOS, TERRY!
CC
i just finished reading terry walstroms new book i wept by the rivers of babylon, and i just had to say that i thoroughly enjoyed it!
i just purchased the kindle version from amazon about a week ago and found it quite hard to put it down.
(heres the direct link: http://www.amazon.com/wept-rivers-babylon-prisoner-conscience/dp/1492902063/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=utf8&qid=1394547792&sr=1-1&keywords=i%20wept%20by%20the%20rivers%20of%20babylon&tag=vglnk-c1113-20.).
"Never underestimate the power of a small group of committed people to change the world. In fact, it is the only thing that ever has."
Margaret Mead
Or, 'one committed man.'
KUDOS, TERRY!
CC
does anyone remember when the arrangement changed from having 1 congregation servant to the body of elders arrangement.. i have been out of the religion for so long i am getting a little rusty on the changes that happened.
i am writing down my memoirs and right now i am recounting my teenage years as the daughter of a congregation servant.
there was a big change in our family life when i was 15 because of the change in the arrangement.
Greetings, Deceived:
I was at the Gilead graduation in the spring of 1972. Brother Knorr said 'we are going to try the new arrangement (elder) here at Bethel to see if it works.' Not verbatim, but I do recall specifically 'to see if it works.' It was a very rough start, what with much fighting and recriminations as to who did and did not qualify, so I heard.
It began in the congregations in the fall of '72.
CoCo
i am captive in both heart and body, .
walled in by mahogany panels and .
useless fears of too long standing.
An open door beckons, urging escape from my prison.
I stand at the threshold of promised freedom yet
cannot cross my mind's blockade.
I see Spring's newly-leafed oaks, their canopy
glistening and swaying,
The forsythia and flowering quince all
abloom, but
Here I shall remain in my chosen
prison and
Dream of what I love yet fain
can own.
dawn comes creeping upward, straddling with all her .
tendrils the dark mountain so terribly near my sweet .
but now quaking refuge of wood and stone and glass.. .
To my dear friends: clarity; rip; snowbird; humbled; Kate:
I appreciate your posts and heartfelt comments.
Yes, rip, bad things do happen in the woods, whether symbolic or literal. Likewise, humbled, you are not crazy, unless both you and the writer are cuckoo. Your sentiments are in concert with what I have written. We are all overshadowed, but our light shall out.
Our to you, dear Kate. We all feel that inconsolable loss.
Love,
CoCo
dawn comes creeping upward, straddling with all her .
tendrils the dark mountain so terribly near my sweet .
but now quaking refuge of wood and stone and glass.. .
Dawn comes creeping upward, straddling with all her
tendrils the dark mountain so terribly near my sweet
but now quaking refuge of wood and stone and glass.
I peer through the panes that give onto a landscape of
horror that to some is pristine but to me is a reminder
that he was swallowed up by a wood black and cruel.
He calls out faintly, begging I rescue him from the jail
holding him fast against all escape, but who am I but
a grieving parent who searches for a son forever lost.
anybody hear from flipper.....haven't seen him on here lately!.
it is just not the same without him & i really miss his presence.. where is our friend ....anyone?.
clarity.
Hope you're OK, Mr Flipper!
All the best.
CoCo
yesterday, i had a chance meeting with an acquaintance from the kh we used to attend.. after being away from the meetings for so long, and really starting to feel like i've almost entirely shed their false teachings, i have somehow lost sight of the fact that there are actually still people who really believe it.
i read the magazines now, and find it virtually impossible to comprehend how anyone can actually swallow those ideas.
it seems so warped and twisted to me now.. i guess the best way i can describe this encounter, was being "cornered" in public.
Enjoying your story, FW!
Girl Scout Week is celebrated each March, starting with Girl Scout Sunday and ending with Girl Scout Sabbath on Saturday, and it always includes the Girl Scout Birthday, March 12. https://www.gsvsc.org/gsweek/
Best.
CoCo
recent happenings close to home bewilder me by day, terrify me by night.
i am immersed in the profound waters of doubt and, sometimes, despair, as i struggle swimmingly to a far off shore that itself is encased in black mist.. yet, the shroud of fog does rise.
i am able to see outward, through the windows to my soul.
Love and blessings to all of you. I'm touched that my strange way of putting common concerns has resonated with you.
Have a wonderful day.
CC
this here is very educational.. http://www.funtrivia.com/tournament/jwd-trivia-quiz-75350.html.
come on, y'all.. sylvia.
Off and running to work soon, Syl, but hadda say hi!!!
CoCo
recent happenings close to home bewilder me by day, terrify me by night.
i am immersed in the profound waters of doubt and, sometimes, despair, as i struggle swimmingly to a far off shore that itself is encased in black mist.. yet, the shroud of fog does rise.
i am able to see outward, through the windows to my soul.
Recent happenings close to home bewilder me by day, terrify me by night. I am immersed in the profound waters of doubt and, sometimes, despair, as I struggle swimmingly to a far off shore that itself is encased in black mist.
Yet, the shroud of fog does rise. I am able to see outward, through the windows to my soul. A sense of tranquility replaces anxiety and confusion. Arrived, at last, to a calmer state of mind, I am permitted to sort through the simpler things. Scattered pieces of life's puzzle come together of their own accord; my intervention is neither required nor sought. What one commonly refers to as the past is not a block of time and events disconnected from today but a continuance of life, of living, through to this present moment. A flowing stream, irresistible, from my so-called past of no discernible nor recorded beginning. What man's every breath, every move, every thought, is put to paper for a posterity indifferent to the life of a man of no importance?
In that timeless flow from then to now, I see myself not as participant but as onshore observer. Rushing past me are images of people and buildings and books and the beauties of Nature. And so much more, the more of my former childhood surroundings that have edged their way into my today's reality. It is a continuation of what I started out as and what I continue to be. It is, thus, my own small world of scant reality and too much imagination. All to be forgotten, today's man and his trifling matters . . .
Of no importance.