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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Wait, I'll go ask him. Ok, he just said he would have picked her up. He recognizes the problem but has experienced so much baloney for doing the right thing that it doesn't really bug him anymore. He feels it's between him and God. Since I have seen him do some pretty far reaching things to care for others I believe him. I've seen numerous instances in our ten year marriage where he chose to deal with scorn, humiliation, the pride of others, or even potential legal trouble over avoiding the appearance of evil.
This is not to say he thinks you did the wrong thing, I related this to him as a hypothetical. And to be honest when I examine my feelings if I'd been in your shoes I probably would have passed by as well. I think you and I can pray for the courage you wrote of, and hope that the Lord will have mercy on us as we bring our lives into more conformity with his will than the will of the people.
Thanks again for this post and especially for your honesty.
Matthew, Thanks for reading.