Pale Shade

We skip a light randango, turn carwheels across the world. We been feeling kinda badly… but the crowds call out for more. The nation's drumming harder, and Constitution's blowing away, when I noticed another blink from our patriots along the way. And now its getting later, as the maga tells his tale, and the climate space at first . . . just blows a whiter spade of heil. They said there is no reason, and the truth's not plain to see, as we wandered through our online shards. . . and would not let them be. . . the run of sixteen-year-old vestal virgins who were leaving maralago coast.

And although our eyes are open, they might as well be closed. And now it is much later, as the offender reads his mail, that Uncle Sam's face. . . at first just ghostly, turns a darker shade of pale. Glass Chimera

Glory glory

Mine eyes have discerned the glory of the workings of the Lord. He had rambled through the promised land where Moses struck the chord. He distributed His glory throughout the ages by His Word. His Word is traveling on. I have read Him in the morning; I have discerned Him in the night. History's carved out for him a legacy of replacing wrong with right. And even though the martyrs died, believers hung on tight. His Word is traveling on. His Word enlightened Christians who have lived from age to age. We have defeated cruel adversity through pagan hate and rage We've discerned the glorious will of God as we've read from page to page. His Word is traveling on.

In the mystery of holiness Christ was nailed onto a tree With salvation in His sacrifice that has saved both you and me.

As he rose to conquer death itself ; his Life has made us free His Word is traveling on! King of Soul

Yuletide Faith

The man, young, restless and just out university, left his home state and his family behind. He settled in a popular city, where old folks take life easy. Little did know at that time; he was being guided by a providential instinct. . . into a destiny through which the Lord would bless those who blessed him, and he would eventually join all the people of the earth who have lived a life well-lived. He traveled through the sunshine, through the rain, past the panhandle of florid comfort. Although he didn't know it at the time, he was being directed to a destiny far above the sandy beaches because life is not a beach. And so he turned northward, finding opportunity in blue ridge, where new horizons were opening for him. And he prospered, and he found rest in the buncombe. But he was confounded when once, upon a midnight dreary, while he pondered, weak and weary, the dark wings of fate landed upon him and spoke, "Nevermore!" And he wondered, what the hell? Say what? Is there balm in Gilead? And so he took his journey westward, leaving Ur of the cawcawbird and traveling to the land of promise, although he didn't know it at the time. And a whole reel of adventures unfurled after he had received help from Melchizedek, the prince of Peace. He saw glory coming out, but he didn't know how. I think I'll change direction, here and now.  And the Lord assured him: "Do not be afraid. I am your shield and your reward." And the man believed the Lord; so he was given credit for being on the right side of the great divide. And he looked up into the night sky, and he saw a star pointing toward Bethlehem, a place he had heard about early on, when he was a kid, at Christmas. And the Christmas story became for him. . . not just a yuletide feast or a santa clause surprise, but the beginning of a new way of life, a path that would reveal purpose and redemption birthed in the strife of this life. Then one night he happened by the Junction and he met the girl who who became his other half, who would present unto him, as the prophet Micah had foretold, a new way of life, and although it was a new way, it was an ancient way that had been established long ago, when Abraham had looked up at the stars and the Lord had said that his progeny would be as the stars in the heavens. Smile, you're on camel camera, if you're a wise man, or woman.  And the stars were nice and they twinkled. . . but at the appointed time and at the appointed place, the place that Micah had foretold, the star directed the man, as he directs all wise men, if they are humble and willing to be led by the star, to a new birth into eternity where, as I once heard from a saved widow whose hubby had died. . . she said that he said to her in a dream: "It's like Christmas morning up here, all the time." And in the distance, I saw a shimmering face. . . I decided to stop for my life, the rest of my life. . .

And if you believe that, we've got some real estate in eternity that you might be interested in. Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah and may the Holy Spirit fly up into your understanding of what this life is really all about. Christ-believer

To Shoot or to Vote

To vote, or to shoot: that is the question. . . whether 'tis nobler, in a swarm of political troubles, to suffer the slings and nooses of outrageous insurrection, or take action against a wave of magamaniae, and by opposing, transcend them. To vote no more , and by that lapse to end, the democracy and the thousand Constitutional rights that Americans are heir to; 'tis an Amendment sadly to be tossed out. To mail-in votes, or to shoot, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub: for in that Constitutional clash what dreams may come. . . when we have shuffled off this mortal MAGA mess - there's the rub that makes calamity of so long a Republic's life.

There's a second amendment and a fifteenth amendmentFor who would bear the guns and votes of time? the Jan6 throng, or the mail-in working democrats? 2nd amendment guns, or 15th amendment votes : that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler to lock and load our gun rights, or to allow mail-in ballots so working folk can vote on Tuesdays when they have to go to work . . . or both, to keep everybody happy. . . that is the question. I mean, if Jan6 insurrectionists can be pardoned for their violent attack against our Congress, then surely working folk can be pardoned, by Congressional law, from their jobs, for an hour, or perchance to vote by mail. . . to go to the polls on election day! To shoot, or to vote: that is the question. Glass half-full

Samaritans

A lawyer asked Jesus what he ought to do gain eternal life. Jesus replied: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, all your strength and all your mind; and love your neighbor as yourself." The lawyer asked, as if he didn't know, "And who is my neighbor?" Jesus replied and said: "A man was going down to Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers, and they stripped and beat him, and went away leaving him half dead. And by chance, a preacher was going down that road; when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. Likewise a priest also, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by him by. But a Samaritan who was on a journey, came upon the injured man, and felt compassion for him. He medicated and bandaged up the victim's wounds. Then the Samaritan brought him an inn and took care of him. On the next day he made provision for the victim to be treated, and for the bill to be paid. Jesus then posed the question: "Which of these travelers proved to be a good neighbor to the man who had fallen into the robbers' hands?" And the questioner said: "the one who showed mercy toward him." Jesus said, "Go and do likewise." About 2000 years went by. A group of believers who wanted to follow the precedent that Jesus had set founded Samaritan's Purse, a Christian ministry that puts shoe leather on the gospel. The world headquarters of Samaritan's Purse is in Boone, North Carolina, where I live. In September, 2024, hurricane Helene twirled her way out of the gulf, rambled through the armpit of Florida, and blasted northward, rolling right over our Blue Ridge mountains, tore up many a house and home in Boone. Today, a year and three months after Helene's destruction, a few residents of the Boone area gathered to dedicate a newly-constructed house that has recently been built by volunteers who were laboring for the Lord Jesus Christ, through the auspices of Samaritan's Purse, and the thousands of supporters around the world who contribute to that Christian fund.

If you look close into the photo, you may see a descendent of the American pioneer, Daniel Boone, who had trodden his way through our area, back in the day . . .about 200 years ago. Like Daniel Boone's pioneering trek through the western frontier, Samaritan's Purse, has, in years past and present, blazed a trail through disaster areas around the world, providing medical care, food, shelter and security for victims of hurricanes, typhoons, famines, droughts, wars and the myriad of disasters that this fallen world is heir to. Glass half-Full

Smokey History

excerpt from chapter 9 of my 2011 novel, Smoke When the Bolsheviks tore down the Russian Czar's gilt empire, they immediately began exporting their revolution to the world. That's the way Marx had conceived their grand plan, and so that's the way they intended to liberate the working world from the rapacity of capitalistic exploitation. They stubbornly undertook their project in spite of severe infighting and confused disorganization. So in spite of themselves, the Reds were able to intimidate their moneyed nemeses in the West. Fearfully anticipating an onslaught of Communism from the East, the European houses of wealth and power were scrambling for defenses.  Thus did they mistakenly identify, in the late 1930's, the German reich, newly constructed under Hitler's forcefully vicious methodology, as a wishful bastion of European order and capitalistic vigor. Weren't the Germans the proud forgers of finely-tuned industry and disciplined authority?  The leader of the western world were slowly deluding themselves into a tragically misguided assessment of Hitler. Too many of them saw his rise as a potential defense of European order, and the wealth that sustained it.  This confrontation of semi-biblical proportions would hold as captors . . . The lessons of history are veiled in time, memory, and sometimes. . .

Smoke

Fiddler

Being a guitar player in the 1960's-70's was a big deal. Some of us were legends in our own minds. I managed to make a couple of LP record albums, plucking my guitar and gathering a little help from me friends. In Asheville, musicians would gather at Caesar's place and jam on old mountain tunes like Rocky Top or Soldiers' Joy. Now and then I would have the honor and pleasure of jamming with fiddlers like Fox Watson or Beth Youngblood. Long about the 1990's, I discovered baroque master musician Antonio Vilvaldi and his Four Seasons violin concerto. Being so amazed at the virtuosity of violin performers, I took up the instrument and learned to play it. After five or six years, I decided to leave that exquisite instrument up to the real performers, those who were trained to coax so much passion and perfect music out of a bow and four strings. Passion is a very important part of all great music and, in truth, of all great accomplishments in human history, all great projects. to establish life, liberty, happiness, justice, truth and beauty, for us all. The violin, or fiddle or whatever you call it, is the instrument best designed to sound out the passionate cry for life, liberty, happiness, justice, truth and beauty, for us all.

In Alex Haley's class historic series, Roots, Fiddler is an important character. His struggles, like all those enslaved folk of that era, is an epic tale of human endeavor that all of us who strive for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness can relate to. Somewhere in this life sequence of mine, I went to see a hometown production of Fiddler on the Roof at Lees McRae College in Banner Elk. In the very first scene of the play, Tevya steps on stage, speaking profound truth:

" a Fiddler on the roof . . . sounds crazy, no?. . . you might say everyone of us is a fiddler on the roof, trying to scratch a pleasant simple tune. . . without breaking our neck!" Now at age 74, I can relate. . . trying to stretch out a life. . . without the steep uphill slog of life breaking me! Glass half-Full