Truth rains its words On whitewashed tombs, While nonetheless aware, The other cheek turns away In silent crimsoned shame. “Then He said to them all, ‘If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, […]
Mary loved going to church. At the end of maturity for six-year-olds and the children’s sermon, Mary loved the stories. Though she didn’t fully realize she was getting too old, she listened attentively. On the last Sunday in May, right before summer break, the story grabbed her attention more than normal. The preacher spoke about
Jimmy was reared in modest means. A wholesome family, Jimmy’s parents worked hard and taught their children proper values and morals. They attended church regularly and the children rarely missed a day of school or the parents a day of work. Each member in the family contributed to the household responsibilities. Of course, there was
Beneath the old oak tree, framed in twilight, a lone silhouette, an old man with his box sat and watched while the graveyard spirits spoke of possibility and certainty. Who is he? Some say he is Peter waiting for the next soul, praying one of us in the cemetery will come to him. Some say he’s a figment, a representation of a life lived on earth, a faceless spirit of all who
