Mark's Views, Perhaps — from behind my eyeballs
Little town
country girl
born to carry
heaven’s pearl.
Visiting angel
shocking news
servant’s heart
much to muse.
Cruel rejection
whispers abound
baby bump
talk of town.
Parental pain
what is true?
fiance blamed
search for clues.
Country boy
madly in love
broken heart
betrayal because?
Sleepless nights
dying inside
countless tears
loss of bride. Read it all
Far up the curvy mountain roads, away from the cities and the bustle of life, where the only rushing thing is the winding river that gurgles and babbles over the stones, are little houses built against the steep mountain sides. The people of these mountains are like the countryside they live in, rugged and sturdy. They climb the steep paths with little effort, and their hearts burn with fierce loyalty to their country. Some call them “Gutzuls”, a name for the mountain people of Carpathians.
They live in simple houses and find satisfaction in their prized cows with their bells that roam the mountainside in the summer and eat the rich mountain hay in the winter. They heat their tiny houses with a pechka, a very versatile woodstove. It is upon these pechkas they cook their banosh, traditional corn mush, and it is in the depths of the pechka that they bake their bread. Nearly always you’ll find a kettle of water upon the stove, heating for a cup of tea, a sponge bath, or dish water. Freshly laundered clothes are hung by the pechka where the wood heat chases away the moisture.
The accent of these mountaineers clings thickly to their speech, distinguishing them from the rest of Ukraine’s population. They have a dialect of their own, a whole collection of words that belong exclusively to the mountain Gutzuls. They understand Russian, but rarely condescend to using the language of their enemies. During Soviet times they had been forced to speak it, but now they were free and speak only their mountain dialect. Read it all
The night hours slipped by as we crawled along, stuck in a traffic jam, moving only a few meters at a time. The darkness as we wove our way around potholes and through villages was unnerving. Where were the lighted houses, the occasional lit up store, the other lights that trademark the villages? Blackout, that’s what it was. The thick darkness was a feeble effort at keeping Putin’s troops from spotting villages and towns to bomb. Read it all
You probably already had your birthday this year. I did, but one of my life-long, faithful friends still hasn’t had his birthday. Imagine yours is yet to come.
To celebrate your birthday, we will hang up pictures of you in your crib — to show we know who this is all about, you know. Generally, though, we will disregard you in favor of other festive and seasonal activities. If anyone gets around to remembering you, it will be to reminisce about your birth and baby days. And gifts? We will give each other gifts we think we would enjoy. Maybe we will think to give you a baby rattle or a teddy bear. You would probably say “bah humbug” on birthdays, at least yours. Read it all
I just got word that the remaining CAM hostages in Haiti are free!
I confirmed it on their website.
Praise the Lord!
At 9:30 am Eastern, Christian Aid Ministries announced on their site:Read it all
Shortly before 8:00 this morning, Ruby came back in to urge me to go out for a bit and look at some frost designs. I’ve seen them before, but I’m always amazed and awed by them. I took some photos. They don’t need captions. Read it all