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A Pearl from Dietrich Bonhoeffer

via A Pearl from Dietrich Bonhoeffer

David Herbert posted this quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer in April. Bonhoeffer was executed hours before the end of World War II by the Nazis who held him as a prisoner for about 1.5 years. He is a modern day martyr and opposed the Nazis fromt the time they came to power.

David’s quote is a wonderful insight into how God is not driven by human views, opinions, and ideologies. We each have free choice and will to live in proper ways and to treat the world we live in (we are not separate) with reverence.

Nature, including humans, are gifts given to preserve and conserve in their purest forms.

Daffodils, Lake, and Mountain in Glacier

Of all the pictures I post, this is my favourite. Kathy took the picture as she drove through Glacier National Park in Montana. With the flowers, grass, trees, lake, mountain, snow, clouds, and sky, there is so much of Nature’s in the picture.

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Happy Birthday, Albert! | Catherine M Johnson

Happy Birthday, Albert! | Catherine M Johnson.

I am a big Albert Einstein fan and it is his birthday today. I enjoy his eccentric behaviour and wild hair.

Several years ago, a student asked who the guy was in a poster in our classroom.

Without hesitating, I said, “My Dad!” A second student expressed skepticism, but I answered with “Look at him. He has wild hair, is eccentric, and tells great stories. Its my Dad!”.

A third student responded, “It’s Albert Einstein. His name is on the poster.”

For the rest of my teaching years, students, parents, and I were always careful when I began to say something about my Dad. I clarified whether it was my real dad or my figurative dad. The two had interesting quotes in common.

My real Dad would say, “When you stop beating your head against the wall it feels better.” I shared that with students when we talked about Einstein’s definition of insanity: “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

Love After Love

We arrived safe and sound. There was not much traffic and the roads were clear through the mountains. It is a bit tiring with a lot of visiting of family and friends. We are a large family spread out geographically so we do not see each other often. It is different to see each other face-to-face, have conversations, share meals, and reminisce. There is much laughter.

I find it is in these gatherings that I look in. I greet my self through the presence of siblings, parents, nieces, nephews, and a varied assortment of relatives. Who do we resemble inwardly and outwardly? It is not always obvious until we see others who helped form of our lives. It is like meeting yourself on the journey of life. It is in this companionship, with others and eventually our self, we rediscover our self.

Derek Walcott wrote this beautiful poem around that theme, meeting yourself on life’s journey.

The time will come

when, with elation,

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your mirror,

and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

I thought I would only blog briefly this morning, but too much has come across my screen. I love the Mark Twain quote provided below the video. Both moms and dads do learn a lot more after their children are adults. Kathy and I do not get many chances for the boys, Marc, Yves, and Luc, and physically share with us due to distances, but on Friday we went for supper. It was a belated Mother’s Day and an early Father’s Day. Thank you Marie for the great reblog.

When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.  – Mark Twain

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