7 is everywhere. After my mother, I claimed it as my lucky number.
Who will do something nice for me today?
In early June former FBI director James Comey’s use of the word “Lordy” had that term trending on Twitter and lots of Lordy meme’s popping up on social media. At the time I was sure there was an old song from my girlhood with that word in the title; I had memories of singing “Oh Lordy” frequently, loudly and heartily whenever the song played on radio. Unfortunately, many Google and YouTube searches later, I could not find my “Oh Lordy” song. Until, a little brainwave made me use the only fragment of the lyrics I could remember as my search term — and what do you know, Volare had somehow become Oh Lordy to my young ears, an error that had gone uncorrected all these years.
There is a way we can leave all the shadows behind us.
A Prayer in Time of Trouble
O Sacred Heart of Jesus, make us remember, when the world is cold and dreary, and we know not where to turn for comfort, that there is always one spot bright and cheerful–the Sanctuary. When we are in desolation of spirit, when all who are dear to us have passed away, like summer flowers, and none are left to us or care for us, whisper to our troubled souls that there is one friend who dies not, one whose love never changes, the Sacred Heart of Jesus on the altar.
When sorrows thicken and crush us with their burden, when we look in vain for comfort, let your dear words come forth with full force from the Tabernacle: “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will refresh you.”
Would that we could realize the pure happiness of possessing your sympathy. Would that we could feel–when we are crushed and humbled, when the hope we have lived for has withered, when sorrows and trials that we dare not reveal to any, make our souls sink well nigh unto death, when we look in vain for someone to understand us, one who will enter into out miseries, make us remember that there in one on the Altar who knows every fibre of our hearts, every sorrow, every pain special to our peculiar natures, and who deeply sympathizes with us.
Compassionate Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us; have mercy on us; have mercy on us.
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I think the ongoing courtroom saga of another (once?) elder statesman actor made My Mind drift – comparatively – to Sir Sidney Poitier and of course, with that came flashbacks to “To Sir With Love.”
If you wanted the moon
I would try to make a start
But I would rather you let me give my heart
To Sir, with love
I didn’t know of Padraic (Patrick) Pearse as a poet until a couple of days ago. I am guessing that name is not popular in the UK at a time like this – given recent events – and his poetry may not be presented for public celebration. Regardless, I read and was touched by his poem, The Fool. Perhaps it speaks to an interior conversation I have, about when to accept the fall as something that goes with the territory, brush the dust off and keep going in the same determined direction, or decide it’s time to pack it in, give it up, drop it down, let it go…and so on. Gwaaad, I have been foolish, as in this chunk of Pearse’s poem:
Ye shall be foolish as I; ye shall scatter, not save;
Ye shall venture your all, lest ye lose what is more than all;