Why do we make love...Stay?{ from 4/20/10}

Students of the love impulse,

Marital love?
Maternal Love,
Parental love,
paternal love,
brotherly love,.

Dan Fogleberg— seems to say, I wish that love were, like my dog, that I could say "Stay!" and she would stay. The only thing that we have dominion over, after the curse, would be the dominion over the regulation of human love. Maternal love is a constant.? We don’t have to say to ourselves love your children. How we love them is the question. Listening? Talking? Instructing? Directing?
Wifing love equals submission and respect, but it also must involve reciprocation of such. "Like a dog", in a sense we say: "Stay right there, love, whatever happens. You stay!" {as though it were outside of ourselves?} It may or may not listen, depending on a lot of factors. ie. Loyalty, is probably the best concept to inject into your children with oneanother— early, before they learn disloyalty.

in the heavenly realms: The angels’ job is to study and defend the holiness of God. A little lower, we study and defend the goodness of God and have dominion over the relationships on earth, in family and government and church. Christ’s defense is for His church: against the gates of hell{forces of antichrist evident in the earthly realms}. Families bound together under a covenant of unity and peace. "I will not wage war against you.", is usually part of the family understanding. I will say to Peace, you stay!

Dominion over Love, dominion over peace and dominion over unity, You STAY.—why do we run so from the concept of having dominion.

Don't Sleep in the Subway, Darling.

Upon planting my "Dusty Miller" and "Violas" at my mailbox. I remember Dusty Springfield and Sister Loyola a dear old Sister from my early fond remembrances. It has been sometime that I have said to myself, I will plant something nice and choice around my mailbox. Life happens and here we are 5 years later and no closer to civilizing this "vast wilderness" LOL than we were when we got here. I had grandiose dreams of "Sweet William" and Clover wafting over my "viranda". Each early attempt was met with design critiques and major marital distemper, and so I gave up, for a time. Here I am, unemployed and longing for flowers and fauna, to the tune of deacon Wests yard and I gird myself for the battle, when the master of the house sees the creative genius that reminds me of subways and Dusty Springfield and Sister Viola, I mean Loyola. Maybe it is a Rock and Roll garden, he is opposed to, whatever. "Nothing beats a failure, but a try."

A Piney Day!

Brentwood in the Pines, Is mighty fine

A group of Highschool prayer group girls singing the joys of reaching out to God, by travelling to the piney woods of Brentwood, in the early 1970's are the echoing memories that are playing this morning. The sunny faces of the optimistic PG, that our prayers could closer reach the throne of God, should we travel to the wooded convent of Long Island. Everyone knew that you had to yell to reach God's ears from Brooklyn, or the other boros. So, we travelled. Our delighted faces to see real and skinny, tall pine trees, made us giddy and we sang. I am grateful to know that God knew our hearts. Our giddy, sophomoric songs of reaching out to God and seeing His glory in the pines was infantile, but happy. They are good memories of growing in grace and in the knowledge of God and using outstretched arms and hands to learn of Him.
Thank you, God, for those good memories.
God bless the archives of PG.