The Seasons: A Poem

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Sunrise over Amazing Grasses Family Farm The mad Artist wields His brush, Painted colors rush, To life and give flush, Before the quiet autumn hush. The life seems to pour, As colors fall to the floor, To be seen no more, Outside the dark, grey door. Brightness from below, Sun upon the snow, High, cold clouds blow, Flakes and ice appear to grow. The man melts with little seen, Underneath, pale, grey green, Hides life in dark unseen, Waits for warmth and to careen. Buds on branches show, Patience starts to grow, Trickles, streams and veins flow, Bringing fruits of melted snow. Sprung to life it springs, Bees, birds, sound rings, Lush green flings, Its gift bounty brings. Green growth gives one last rush, Underneath the Painter's brush. The mad Artist wields His brush, before the quiet autumn hush. More poetry is available from James M. Hahn in  The Last Dragon and Other Poems  available now. My new book of cryptogram puzzles " Secret Messages from the Saints " is avai
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Let me receive my sight

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Sunday October 29th - Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Mark 10:46-52

On Friday evening we had friends and their children come to our house for a pumpkin carving party. The results are above. Everyone had a great time even Lydia, poor thing, the only girl out of 11 boys between the three families.

On Saturday morning I fixed some scrambled eggs and began cleaning up the dishes when a siren could be heard coming out the highway. We all stopped and prayed a Hail Mary for whomever they may be going to help and for those who needed help. It was an ambulance and it slowed down as it approached our driveway. I watched from the kitchen window as it began to come up our driveway and then it stopped where our drive and my parents drive split. I instantly ran out on to the deck and began signaling them to go towards my parents house.

My dad had fallen off a truck at work a few weeks ago and we thought he was on the way to recovery. However, sometime over the past 48 hours his spleen had burst and he was slowly bleeding to death and didn't know it. By the time they got him to the hospital his bloodpressure had dropped and they were giving him blood transfusions. He was life-flighted to Columbus. I drove my mother to the hospital expecting the worst and my brother met us there. We waited for 4 hours before we heard a word. They did some exploratory surgery, found the problem, and now he appears to be doing well. Please pray for him.

Today we hear blind Bartimaeus calling out for Jesus asking to be healed. He wasn't asking for silly trinkets or earthly comforts. He wasn't praying for a better job, a shorter commute, or a new car. He knew what he wanted, he knew where to go, and he knew Who to ask. Like Bartimaeus, I am blind. But unlike this faithful man, I am too proud to admit I am blind. I would often rather stumble in the dark than allow the world to know of my weaknesses. I am often afraid of their rebukes so I remain blind. Bartimaeus is a wonderful example of what can happen when I humble myself and cry out to Jesus.

Last week Jesus said to James and John, "What do you want me to do for you?" This week He says the exact same thing to Bartimaeus. These words must have stung the ears of James and John. I often ask God for stupid things or expect that I should get certain things when I ask because I am not like "those" sinners. Yet, when I hear Bartimaeus simply asking for sight I feel like a fool. Like when I ask God to let me win the lottery and my neighbor asks God to heal his wife of cancer.

Lord, help me to pray for those things that please You. Help my prayer always to be, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me. Master, let me receive my sight."

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