Life of Service

Life is neither a vale of tears nor a circus of entertainment. Life is essentially a place of service, where on occasion one has to put up with a lot that is difficult, but more often than not where one can experience a great many joys. But real joy is had only when we see our life as service.


Leo Tolstoy

The Disappearing Monk

Burn it blue

Burn this house
Burn it blue
Heart running on empty
So lost without you

But the night sky blooms with fire
And the burning bed floats higher
And she’s free to fly…

Woman so weary
Spread your unbroken wings
Fly free as the swallow sings
Come to the fireworks
See the dark lady smile
She burns…

And the night sky blooms with fire
And the burning bed floats higher
And she’s free to fly…

Burn this night
Black and blue
So cold in the morning
So cold without you

And the night sky blooms with fire
And the burning bed floats higher
And she’s free to fly

Y la noche que se incendia,
Y la cama que se eleva,
A volar…

And of the dark days
Painted in dark gray hues
They fade with the dream of you
Wrapped in red velvet
Dancing the night away
I burn…

Midnight blue
Spread those wings
Fly free with the swallows
Fly one with the wind

Y ella es flama que se eleva,
Y es un p�jaro a volar
Y es un p�jaro a volar
En la noche que se incendia,
El infierno es este cielo
Estrella de oscuridad

And the night sky blooms with fire
And the burning bed floats higher
And she ’s free to fly
Just a spark in the sky
Painting heaven and hell
Much brighter

Burn this house
Burn it blue
Heart running on empty
So lost without you

Music by Elliot Goldenthal
Lyrics by Julie Taymor
Performed by Caetano Veloso & Lila Downs

Don't Turn Away

Sometimes a pair of sad old eyes
Can see the beauty and grace
Where others avoid looking

Happy Father's Day

My father - Robert E. Mace Sr.
Happy Father's Day Dad!

Saturday at home

Prayed my Rosary this morning. I started on the lanai, but ended it in my prayer and contemplation room that used to be the master bedroom. There are no masters here anymore. I had breakfast; tomato bisque soup and roasted garlic bread. The rest of the day I will read, listen to music and do light housekeeping. I'm in a Copland/Bernstein mood. I have become aware of colors and textures. My minds eye seems to be breaking everything I see down into its basic elements. Maybe it's just the music or the prayers. Maybe it's love. I'm capable of that too.
Later today I will go to the 5:15 Mass. Christ is found in the Mass. But he's here too.

Lighthouse Homeless Shelter Dinner Serving for June 27th, 2010

Lighthouse Homeless Shelter
Dinner Serving for June 27th, 2010
El sabor de México (A taste of Mexico)

Menú
Chips & Salsa
Pollo Asado (Grilled Chicken)
Arroz y Frijoles (Rice and Beans)
Tortias
Ensalada Mexicana (Mexican Salad)
Sandía (Watermelon)
Helado (Ice Cream)
Water, Juice & Milk


Ven y únete a nosotros para una gran noche de los alimentos, el compañerismo y el servicio en el refugio para personas sin hogar en Faro Waipahu.
(Come and join us for a great night of food, fellowship, and service at the Lighthouse Homeless Shelter in Waipahu.)
Email Bob at matthew25@clearwire.net for more information
Mahalo

The Floating Bed

The sheets catch fire
From the heat of our desire

washed white in the blood of the Lamb

He, who is born not from human stock, or human desire or human will, but from God himself, one day took to himself everything that was under his footstool and he left with his inheritance, his title of Son, and the ransom price. He left for a far country…the faraway land…where he became as human beings are and emptied himself. His own people did not accept him and his first bed was a bed of straw! Like a root in arid ground, he grew up before us, he was despised, the lowest of men, before whom one covers his face. Very soon, he came to know exile, hostility, loneliness… After having given away everything in a life of bounty, his worth, his peace, his light, his truth, his life … all the treasures of knowledge and wisdom and the hidden mystery kept secret for endless ages; after having lost himself among the lost children of the house of Israel, spending his time with the sick (and not with the well-to-do), with the sinners (and not with the just), and even with the prostitutes to whom he promised entrance into the Kingdom of his Father; after been treated as a glutton and a drunkard, as a friend of tax collectors and sinners, as a Samaritan, a possessed, a blasphemer; after having offered everything, even his body and his blood, after having felt deeply in himself sadness, anguish, and a troubled soul; after having gone to the bottom of despair, with which he voluntarily dressed himself as being abandoned by his Father far away from the source of living water, he cried out from the cross on which he was nailed: “I am thirsty.” He was laid to rest in the dust and shadow of death. And there, on the third day, he rose up from the depths of hell to where he had descended, burdened with the crimes of us all, he bore our sins, our sorrows he carried. Standing straight, he cried out: “Yes, I am ascending to my Father, and your Father, to my God, and your God.” And he reascended to heaven. Then in the silence, looking at his Son and all his children, since his Son had become all in all, the Father said to his servants, “Quick! Bring out the best robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet; let us eat and celebrate! Because my children who, as you know, were dead have returned to life; they were lost and have been found again! My prodigal Son has brought them all back.” They all began to have a feast dressed in their long robes, washed white in the blood of the Lamb.

Él, que no nace de la acción humana, o deseo humano o la voluntad humana, sino de Dios mismo, un día tomó para sí todo lo que estaba bajo estrado de sus pies y se fue con su herencia, su título de Hijo, y el precio del rescate. Se marchó a un país lejano ... la tierra lejana ... donde llegó a ser como seres humanos son y se vació. Su propia gente no aceptó a él ya su primera cama era un lecho de paja! Al igual que una raíz de tierra árida, creció frente a nosotros, fue despreciado, el más bajo de los hombres, ante el cual uno se cubre la cara. Muy pronto, llegó a conocer el exilio, la hostilidad, la soledad ... Después de haber dado todo en una vida de abundancia, su valía, su paz, su luz, su verdad, su vida ... todos los tesoros del conocimiento y la sabiduría y el misterio escondido mantuvo en secreto durante siglos de los siglos, después de haberse perdido entre los niños perdidos de la casa de Israel, pasar el tiempo con los enfermos (y no con el bien-a-do), con los pecadores (y no con la justa), y incluso con las prostitutas a los que prometió la entrada al Reino de su Padre, luego de haber sido tratado como un glotón y un borracho, como un amigo de publicanos y pecadores, como un samaritano, un poseído, un blasfemo; después de haber otorgado todo, incluso su cuerpo y su sangre, después de haber sentido profundamente en sí mismo la tristeza, la angustia, y un alma en pena, después de haber ido a la parte inferior de la desesperación, con la que voluntariamente se vistió como abandonado por su padre lejos de la fuente de vida agua, gritó desde la cruz en la que fue clavado: "Tengo sed." Él fue enterrado en el polvo y la sombra de la muerte. Y allí, en el tercer día, se levantó desde las profundidades del infierno a donde él había descendido, cargado con los crímenes de todos nosotros, él cargó con nuestros pecados, nuestros dolores que llevaba. De pie derecho, él gritó: "Sí, Subo a mi Padre ya vuestro Padre, a mi Dios ya vuestro Dios." Y él reascended al cielo. Luego, en el silencio, mirando a su Hijo, y todos sus hijos, desde que su hijo se había convertido en todo en todo, el Padre dijo a sus siervos: "¡Rápido! Saca el mejor vestido y se lo puso él, poner un anillo en el dedo y sandalias en los pies, comamos y celebremos! Debido a mis hijos que, como usted sabe, fueron muertos han vuelto a la vida, sino que se perdieron y se ha encontrado otra vez! Mi Hijo pródigo ha traído a todos de vuelta. "Todos ellos comenzaron a tener una fiesta vestidos con sus ropajes de extensión, bañada en blanco de la sangre del Cordero.

Frere Pierre Marie, the founder of the Fraternity of Jerusalem

The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming

What I'm reading:

What an incredible book. What a simple message, deeply explored and wonderfully exposited.
Henri Nouwen is a master of reflection, study, self-knowledge, and of writing beautiful, profound books. This book is amazing, perhaps life-changing. It has spoken to me in profound and deep ways, and I am deeply thankful for it.

Nouwen's main message, I think, is the unconditional, unfailing, all-surpassing love of the Father, this love that meets all needs easily. He puts himself in the place of the younger son, the older son, and the father, and considers this love - and the things that keep us from fully experiencing it - in all of these places, places that ring universal.

The media of realization here is the parable of course, but also Rembrandt's painting, Return of the Prodigal Son. It is profoundly helpful, fun, and provoking to consider this representation of the story and let it work spiritually in us, as it has in Father Henri. This book has more than opened my heart to the love of my Father, it has given me a new love for art, and a side education on Rembrandt and one of his most famous paintings.

In short, this is another truly rare, truly wonderful book from a modern mystic. Nouwen will be remembered, I hope, alongside Augustine, Lewis, and others I have yet to discover but now believe exist.

A sample:

"Home is the center of my being where I can hear the voice that says: "You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests"-the same voice that gave life to the first Adam and spoke to Jesus, the second Adam; the same voice that speaks to all children of God and sets them free to live in the midst of a dark world while remaining in the light. I have heard that voice. It has spoken to me in the past and continues to speak to me now. It is the never-interrupted voice of love speaking from eternity and giving life and love whenever it is heard. When I hear that voice, I know that I am home with God and have nothing to fear. As the Beloved of my heavenly Father, "I can walk in the valley of darkness: no evil would I fear." As the Beloved, I can confront, console, admonish, and encourage without fear of rejection or need for affirmation. As the Beloved, I can be tortured and killed without ever having to doubt that the love that is given to me is stronger than death. As the Beloved, I am free to live and give life, free also to die while giving life."

If you'd like to discuss this book with me, or recommend others, or just chat, e-mail me at williekrischke@hotmail.com. I'd love to talk with you.

On amazon.com

Ladies of Grace

Grace
She takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name

Grace
It's a name for a girl
It's also a thought that
Changed the world

And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings
Grace finds goodness
In everything

Grace
She's got the walk
Not on a wrapper on chalk
She's got the time to talk

She travels outside
Of karma, karma
She travels outside
Of karma

When she goes to work
You can hear the strings
Grace finds beauty
In everything

Grace
She carries a world on her hips
No champagne flute for her lips
No twirls or skips
Between her fingertips

She carries a pearl
In perfect condition
What once was hers
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stains

Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things

Grace finds beauty
In everything

Grace finds goodness
In everything

by Paul Hewson

May God bless and keep you always,

May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

Bob Dylan - "Forever Young"

Bob Mace - My Prayer For You

just looking for some compasion, caring, and help...

just looking for some compasion, caring, and help... if the information here does not appear to be anything you can assist with. please, pass this email on to anyone or everyone else who could possibly by the light of the blue moon help another fellow human being in major health distress. urgency required! a day is equal to a million minuted counted one by one to someone who is sick and has no hope. the world can be a very cold and dark place, please light one candle in your effort to make it better and brighter for all of us. all it takes is one kind gesture to another soul (me?) to start a the ball rolling for should humanity fail us, where are we to go? just a thought to pass it on...

ken ueki
caught in the snowball... heading for a wall.

For Ken's full medical condition click here

I See the Promised Land - Martin Luther King, Jr.'s last speech

Prophetic words from Martin Luther King, the day before he was assasinated

Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.

CHIMES OF FREEDOM - Bob Dylan

Far between sundown's finish an' midnight's broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
An' for each an' ev'ry underdog soldier in the night
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

In the city's melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden while the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin' rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an' forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burnin' constantly at stake
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
An' the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for-granted situations
Tolling for the deaf an' blind, tolling for the mute
Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an' cheated by pursuit
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Even though a cloud's white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An' the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An' for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Starry-eyed an' laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an' we watched with one last look
Spellbound an' swallowed 'til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an' worse
An' for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Mexican Home by John Prine

It got so hot, last night, I swear
You couldn't hardly breathe
Heat lightning burnt the sky like alcohol
I sat on the porch without my shoes
And I watched the cars roll by
As the headlights raced
To the corner of the kitchen wall.

Chorus:
Mama dear
Your boy is here
Far across the sea
Waiting for
That sacred core
That burns inside of me
And I feel a storm
All wet and warm
Not ten miles away
Approaching
My Mexican home.

My God! I cried, it's so hot inside
You could die in the living room
Take the fan from the window
Prop the door back with a broom
The cuckoo clock has died of shock
And the windows feel no pane
The air's as still
As the throttle on a funeral train.

Chorus:

My father died on the porch outside
On an August afternoon
I sipped bourbon and cried
With a friend by the light of the moon
So its hurry! hurry! Step right up
It's a matter of life or death
The sun is going down
And the moon is just holding its breath.

Chorus:

Conversion is an ongoing process

The Bar is closed until further notice

No Words

Miguel Agustín Pro Juárez (January 13, 1891 – November 23, 1927)

An assassination attempt by bombing against Álvaro Obregón (which only wounded the ex-president) in November 1927 provided the state with a pretext to capture Pro and his brothers Humberto and Roberto. A young engineer who was involved and confessed his part in the assassination testified the Pro brothers were not involved. [5] Miguel and his brothers were taken to the Detective Inspector's Office in Mexico City.
On November 13, 1927, President Calles gave orders to have Pro executed under the pretext of the assassination, but in reality for defying the virtual outlawing of Catholicism. [3] Calles had the execution meticulously photographed, and the newspapers throughout the country carried them on the front page the following day. Presumably, Calles thought that the sight of the pictures would frighten the Cristero rebels who were fighting against his troops, particularly in the state of Jalisco. However, they had the opposite effect.


Fr. Pro and his brothers were visited by Generals Roberto Cruz and Palomera Lopez around 11 p.m. on November 22, 1927. The next day, as Fr. Pro walked from his cell to the courtyard and the firing squad, he blessed the soldiers, knelt and briefly prayed quietly. Declining a blindfold, he faced his executioners with a crucifix in one hand and a rosary in the other and held his arms out in imitation of the crucified Christ and shouted out, "May God have mercy on you! May God bless you! Lord, Thou knowest that I am innocent! With all my heart I forgive my enemies!" [3] Before the firing squad were ordered to shoot, Pro raised his arms in imitation of Christ and shouted the defiant cry of the Cristeros, "Viva Cristo Rey!" -"Long live Christ the King!" [3]. When the initial shots of the firing squad failed to kill him, a soldier shot him point blank.
The Cristeros became more animated and fought with renewed enthusiasm, many of them carrying the newspaper photo of Pro before the firing squad.

From Wikipedia

Red Shirt

My favorite red shirt that I purchased at Savers in Waipahu for $6.99.

You don’t understand, do you?


I don't know what I can do to reach you.


I don't know what song I can sing to awake you.


I can die for you, but you wouldn't mourn.


I can dance the dance of madness, but you'd only scorn.


I can cry for you, but you'd only turn to stone.


You don't see, you don't see, the gift that I offer.


You only see the cost, and what may be your loss.


You really won't loose anything that matters.


I don't want to loose you.


Do you see? Do you hear?


Don't turn away again. It's not that late.


To catch the fire that consumes me.


We can burn together. I've still got plenty of heat to give.


Be brave. Be a flame. It dosn't hurt. It liberates.