“…..and you say our bare feet are perfect for going to that Holy Ground below?”


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Lenten Journey – Day 17

Biblical Scripture: Acts 7:30-40
Open Invitation to Join Terri from

Cloaked Monk

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9-Mar-12: Acts 7:30-40

30 “Now when forty years had passed, an angel appeared to him in the wilderness of Mount Sinai, in the flame of a burning bush.

31 When Moses saw it, he was amazed at the sight; and as he approached to look, there came the voice of the Lord:

32 ‘I am the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.’ Moses began to tremble and did not dare to look.

33 Then the Lord said to him, ‘Take off the sandals from your feet, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.

34 I have surely seen the mistreatment of my people who are in Egypt and have heard their groaning, and I have come down to rescue them. Come now, I will send you to Egypt.’

 

 

 

 

“…..and you say our bare feet are perfect for going to that Holy Ground below?”

 

 

 

“Oopsey, whoopsey, we fallsey downsey, we hurtseys so muchsees”

So screeched  Spotted Goat tumbling down rocky slope to high river bank.

“Waitsee, waitsee, do not give upsee, oh friend in questsees!”

So squaled out Old Stump Woman and Littly Lamb hurting feet in run so lank.

 

 

“Oh, if only boots of Shepherd we could wear as we tear down to grab old goat!”

So moaned lambie and stumpie clambering down to reach out old goat from that ditch.

“Oh, if only you would see you are on Holy Ground now in rushing to aide without coat!”

So did Old Crow and Ugly Bird and even Bluesy Fly teach those helpers in loving pitch.

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“………and just WHY did you say I am glowing all around the edges?”


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Lenten Journey – Day 15
Biblical Scripture: John 12:36-43
Open Invitation to Join Terri from

Cloaked Monk

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7-Mar-12: John 12:36-43

36 While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.”

 

 

“………and just WHY did you say I am glowing all around the edges?”

 

 

All rested and bested for the morrow the friends did stretch and grab

the cloaks and totes, little pluckies for nibbling and scrabbling through the day

All lifted and bowed and slid as one down the far slope as though a tab

marked the very narrow spot where all must file to leave that dear peak in dismay.

 

But, wait, what is that we hear, what is that we peer to see all crookley of eye?

But, halt, but breathe, but sigh and gasp, what is that goldy, whitey light of shape?

“Oh, am I on fire, am I being swallowed by sun, by this sparkley line on my bye?

“Dear, dear Stumpy, you Clumpy One, that is the Light of your adoption,” whistled Old Crow.

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