Thursday, July 30, 2015

we must not be afraid of the truth......




I am a coward.I cannot bear to think of a lion shot with an arrow, stumbling bleeding through the jungle.Did this magnificent animal with his thick black mane know what was happening ?In his spirit, did he contemplate why he had enemies that he had never seen?

I once had a dream about a black lion that was so real I awoke in relief.My old dog, Cooper, and I were sitting on the rocks in the brook and to our left came this huge black lion.I whispered to my dog to hold still and not move but even in the dream I smiled inwardly because my beloved Coopie was quite deaf at 16 years old.The lion passed us without a glance.The spirit world used this unusual animal dream to tell me that I have a guardian angel and that her name is Ariel.It's a long story but since then lions have been a special mystical symbol to me.

What is lacking in a human being that they should have to kill this creature?I pray that self reflection might be happening as a result of the near universal outrage.

I am a coward.I have not watched one of the undercover videos filmed in Planned Parenthood facilities.I cannot.

I am a coward.I could not have survived the childhood described by Moira Greyland at the hands of her parents, one who raped her and the other who sexually molested her.Her parents.

She is a now a harpist of Celtic music and the founder of two opera companies in the United States.Her mother wrote "The Mists of Avalon," a novel of the Arthurian legends told from a feminine perspective.I got the book from the library at the recommendation of a friend.I thought the strong feminist strain would resonate, but my spirit, which is pretty tuned, felt unease.I knew nothing of the small child and her horrendous life.She describes her parents as avowed pagans and they probably didn't believe in hell but their daughter lived it.Her pain has seeped into her poetry and I have to think that at one time she wanted her life to be private.Now, however, she is speaking out and people are listening.She has much to say about the sexual revolution and where it is going.I rarely feel tears when I write but I just cannot believe this life.Her father finally molested the wrong child and died in prison. Her mother? Deceased as well.

I do not need to see pictures of the dead lion whose  head is missing to know the truth.I do not need to see the videos nor do I need to meet Moira.I know the truth, you know the truth and we must not be afraid.We must do the work that God has given us.For now, for me, it is prayers for Moira, the dentist and the workers in the videos.I do not know what is next.These things hurt and and make me angry but I am glad that my heart has been softened by Love so that it does.When I think of these three stories, I feel like I am standing over an abyss, a canyon so deep that light will never reach the floor; a place where love never enters.

Holy, holy is the Lord.
Holy, holy is the Lord
Rain, down, rain down
Rain down your love on us.Rain down your Love.....David Crowder