The birds are singing. They are enjoying this wonderful life. We should be more like the birds and sing. We have much to sing about. We woke up this morning, and the beauties of nature are available to us all. No one has taken our sense of place from us. I spent some time in my new…old rock home at the Woods and found it spiritual. We are part of something ancient. We live in a special place. We have done nothing to deserve it. We did not get here on merit. Life is a gift.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, it has been said. Even lemonade can be a bit bitter. We all drink our portion. This walk back to Jerusalem brings many surprises. Some are welcome, some are not. Worry may be a rocking chair, and some of us do a lot of rocking. When the E4 tornado hit outside Marion last Friday, I went outside under my elevated porch and took a video of the extreme hailstorm that was occurring. I thought of the Derecho of 2009 that devastated our area. I could feel death in the air. Shortly before that, I was taking my customary afternoon nap and feeling safe and secure. Safety is a myth. We are here by God’s grace.

Love all whom you meet. You may be entertaining angels unaware. Love life it is a rare commodity and scarce as hen’s teeth. The older I become the more positive I am of hope. There is evil people but most are good and well meaning. What you are suffering is shared by many of your brothers and sisters. Reach out and understand.

‘Rosie is coming over for Memorial Day Cookout,’ Neva J said. ‘She loves to join us and I love for her to be with us,’ Neva J smiled. ‘She has a heart of gold,’ Neva J noted. ‘Rosie has been shunned for most of her life and is unaccustomed to love and acceptance,’ Neva J observed. ‘She likes Dog and Suds Root beer and chili dogs,’ Neva J laughed. ‘This will be our menu and Rosie will be in her glory,’ Neva J winked. ‘She is my good friend and I love her for who she is,’ Neva J proclaimed.

‘I have invited Tommy L to the Memorial Day Cookout, and he is so excited as he was planning on getting a hamburger from Reubens’ fast food restaurant for the holiday,’ Chet said. ‘Tommy has scoliosis and sometimes drools but has a brilliant mind,’ Chet observed. ‘Tommy is a mathematical genius and has lived in the shadows due to his marginalization and challenges,’ Chet informed. ‘Tommy will love the Dog-and-Suds Chili Dogs,’ Chet noted. ‘Tommy L is a Chili Dog man,’ Chet laughed heartily. ‘Tommy L is my dear friend,’ Chet said.

‘We are different and we are the same,’ Jane noted. ‘We came to this world by surprise and provide our gifts to it,’ Jane said. ‘Rosie and Tommy L are an honor to have as friends,’ Jane said. ‘We are in the audience and they are God’s leaders in the message of Christ,’ Jane noted with tears. ‘Help us to understand the Theatre Production that we are playing roles in,’ Jane said softly.

We are accustomed to loud noises. The television sound increases when commercials are on. Politicians bark their schtick. We protest to see who is the loudest. If we holler our viewpoint loud enough, we will be heard over our opposition. Political success has become about who can demean the other successfully. No holds barred in the contest to the bottom. Wisdom is thought to be who can persecute the undesirable the loudest and with the most effect. Many of us hide from the tumult. The constant din hurts our ears. Lies said loudly are still lies.

Quite aids in hearing whispers. Even churches have gone to the surefire way of recruiting more parishioners. Loud and repetitive music. This method is sold as a way to create a spiritual environment and a path to find a quiet God. A joyful noise can come from within.

Whispers engender focus. Listening is a lost art. Not listening to have time to form a witty reply, but listening to understand who is speaking. What is the homeless girl telling us? She is homeless because no one would listen. The waif is used to being ignored and unheard, and unseen. Such is life for many of the forgotten.

The President says Walmart should absorb the increased cost of tariffs. Of course, that is not going to happen. The poor will consume what they can, and their meager lifestyle will lead to poverty. Those with resources will spend more and not like it, thus becoming louder in their protestations. The voiceless will sit listening for God’s whispers.

‘I heard a whisper in the night,’ Chet said. ‘I went into Thelma’s bedroom and she was fast asleep,’ Chet noted. ‘As I returned to bed, I heard again a quiet voice say to follow me and all will be well,’ Chet recalled. ‘I asked the voice who he was,’ Chet disclosed. ‘The whisper said that he was my friend,’ Chet noted. ‘Later, I was awakened again by a still, small voice that said for me to pack light and prepare for a long journey,’ Chet said. ‘I asked where we were going and when we would leave,’ Chet said. ‘The voice said that he would tell me when it was time,’ Chet said with tears in his eyes.

‘We will be the greatest country on earth,’ the Leader said. ‘I have all of the answers and the United States is a Big Lovely Store and I own it,’ the Leader loudly proclaimed. ‘Those who do not obey my proclamations will suffer the consequences,’ the Leader noted as he danced on one foot and then the other.

‘I hear you, Eli,’ said Samuel. Samuel heard the still, small voice call to him three times before Eli understood that God was calling Samuel.

‘Join with us and you will be rich like us,’ Political/Religious Throng proclaimed. ‘We know our master’s voice and follow his precepts,’ PRT said with gusto! ‘God is on the side of Real Americans,’ PRT said through bullhorns. ‘We are bold and loud because we are right,’ PRT said.

‘Change is coming and we will be ready for it,’ Preacher said. ‘God is not in the Circus or the Arena, he is in the quiet stillness of the woods of our soul,’ the Preacher continued. ‘Each of you is here because you heard the still, small voice of your friend,’ the Preacher smiled. ‘So many believe the blow-hard rhetoric of those who are only using them for their narcissistic purposes,’ Preacher observed. ‘When you hear the Whisper of God, you know it,’ Preacher advised. ‘Truth is surrounded by light and there is no darkness in it,’ Preacher extolled. ‘There is the facsimile and there is the original, and the difference is startling,’ Preacher noted. ‘Man will say here is Christ or there is Christ, but believe it not,’ the Preacher advised. ‘A good tree does not bear bitter fruit, a sweet fountain does not have sour water,’ the Preacher said.

‘Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.’ Worry is not productive. It has been said that worry is like a rocking chair; you rock and rock and do not get anywhere. The land of what if is full of ideas. We dwell there due to the advice of our close companion, Mr. Anxiety. Mr. A has a lot of theories. If one does not fit, he tries on another. Mr. A is certain of one thing…the world is out to get him and his friend…you.

Mr. A knows his way around a conspiracy theory. He has it all figured out. When opportunity knocks, he hides behind the door. Mr. A knows that he is not ready and that it is probably a trick anyway.

We live in a time of Anxiety. Seeking to become better, we have become bitter. Another got the promotion we sought. There must be something medically wrong with us…We do not sleep well, and we are getting fat for no reason. The neighbor’s yard always looks better than our yard. Our new car soon became old.

We wanted to grow up, we wanted to make our own decisions. We were tired of others telling us what to do. What do I do now? We say. There is no manual or guide to adulthood. Our only close advisor is Mr. Anxiety. He works for free and for the pleasure of our company. Yet we now have someone to blame our troubles on. The poor among us must be at fault. How is it they have no job and no place to live, and little to nothing to eat? They must have come over on those little rafts from Haiti and been members of the armada that invaded our country. The President referred to them as ‘Shit-Hole’ countries. Gosh, we are glad we did not come from a ‘Shit-Hole’ country…and who decides which countries are of the ‘Shit-Hole’ variety?

‘See, I knew it if I had not been held back all of these years, I could have been someone, I could have been a contender,’ He said. ‘Every time I raise my head, someone pushes it back down,’ He said. ‘Mother told me to trust no one, and I did not yet look where I am at,’ He said.

‘I think it’s the Woke people,’ She said. ‘Those who always want to help the underprivileged and those who will not speak up for themselves,’ she said. ‘When I listen to one of them speak, I can not understand what they are talking about,’ She commented. ‘We are feeding the poor kids lunches and school and if that was not bad enough now we feed them breakfast when their parents need to get up off their ass and get a job,’ She said with fire in her eyes!

‘So the hungry kids should remain hungry,’ Preacher said. ‘The children must answer for the sins of the fathers is your anxious philosophy, ‘the Preacher asked. ‘When you were a child, you were poor and in need of help…a Woke person helped you,’ Preacher reminded.

‘The Walmart is full of fruit pickers on Sunday,’ He said. ‘They do not smile much,’ He said. ‘I lost my promotion to a Hispanic woman from out of state,’ He observed. She had more education and experience, but I had been with the University longer,’ He said. ‘I think the fruit pickers should smile more and be happy for all the opportunities we are giving them, He said.

A tornado has struck just outside Marion, and many homes have been demolished. Don Sol Mexican Restaurant is one of the first to step up to help in any way they can. ‘We are all in the same boat in a stormy sea and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.’

There are people who chase storms. Adrenalin pumping rush of excitement. Looking to see something that most of us have not. I chased storms as a boy with my stepfather driving his vintage car. It was in the middle of the night so we saw little. Earl would peer out of his open car window looking for the direction to get out of the way of the tornado. A frightening proposition.

Storms are promised for this afternoon. Baseball size hail. Our climate is unsettled. We seek the whirlwind but the answer is not there. The thrill of the hunt is profound until you are on the wrong side of the hail.

What will the children read in the far future? Will they read of the end of the Republic? Or, will they study the Great Change of Directions. Will our leaders be thought as the catalyst of positive change or the fall of Rome?

Church has gone out of style for many but seeking faith has not. We are in a game of Hide and Seek. We want to look beyond the Veil and discover the Secret.

‘Neva J has gone behind the Veil again,’ Chet said. ‘She had a gleam in her eyes and a glass of Merlot in her hand,’ Chet continued. ‘Neva J said that Grandma A had beckoned for her to enter from the corner of the Veil with a wide smile,’ Chet noted. ‘Neva J told me that there are answers to the riddle and pieces to the puzzle behind the Veil,’ Chet said with sincerity.

‘Come in Neva J Preacher said we have been waiting for you.’ ‘Take a seat beside your brother Dutch he has been wanting to talk with you,’ Preacher assured. ‘The storms are bad and life is hard for so many,’ Preacher noted with concern. ‘Here is a shelter from the storm,’ Preacher assured. ‘Many are worried regarding political unrest,’ Preacher commented. ‘It was similar when I walked the Earth,’ Preacher smiled. ‘When God is forgotten men take his place,’ Preacher said. ‘Here we take time to consider the obvious pitfalls of narcissism,’ Preacher explained. ‘Helping others in word and deed was my message on Earth with no separation of who you love and who deserves our love,’ Preacher mused. ‘Dutch told me that he has not spoken with you since the Second World War,’ Preacher observed. ‘Wars and rumors of wars but the end is not yet,’ Preacher assured. ‘God is control of our lives and is not restricted by a building or cult or doctrine,’ Preacher whispered.

‘There is peace beyond the Veil,’ Neva J exulted. ‘There were people from every nation and time on Earth,’ Neva J said with excitement. ‘Nothing is lost and time stands still for reflection and renewal,’ Neva J said. ‘There were no puffed up full of themselves leaders spouting evil rhetoric,’ Neva J promised. ‘I did see a wolf lay down by a lamb,’ Neva J cried with joy.

Storms are coming. So says the meteorologist. The risk is high. Remember they tell us that it is highly unlikely a tornado will hit your home but be ready. So it goes with us in our present distress. In the midst of work and child care responsibilities to aged parents and finding a family moment we are numb to what others are going through. Somewhere we decided along the way that freedom was for only a select few. Kings are good although we fled one when we became a nation. We did not want a sovereign telling us what to do. We wanted to make our own decisions and breathe the rarified air of freedom. We fought and died for the concept of democracy. Rule by the people we proclaimed. Our President was one equal branch of our goverment containing Congress and the Judiciary. Checks and balances we sought. Monarchy bad…democracy good. Well we must be Suckers to have believed that we were the country who said to, ‘Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-most to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!’

Perhaps we should remove the lamp from the Statue of Liberty’s hand. The President is getting a 400 million dollar plane from Qatar and his Secretary of Homeland Security wants a new plane as well. The rest of us feel fortunate to arrive at our flight destination safe and well.

We seek the promise of life liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Not that we will find these jewels we simply are happy to be in the game. We have been the envy of the world. We have been the golden example. Oppressive governments have feared us. We were the Promise. As a school boy I was taught the United States was founded on religious freedom. This includes having no religion which is becoming increasingly popular.

Dictators are venal. They are transactional. Kings are set apart they are special they are better than the people. Their rulings are capricious. Their motivations are self serving. Kings kill those who disagree with them. Autocrats ship innocent people to gulags and prisons in foreign countries. I worked for a narcissist and found that one day I was in favor with him and the next day I had fallen out of grace. This is life without the rule of law.

Leaders have chaotic minds. In the bubble they live in and the sycophants who advise them they have an altered view of reality. King Henry XIII loved his wives until he did not…ask Anne Boleyn.

‘So this is the Veil Room,’ Chet said. ‘There seems to be no division in time as there are people from every historical perspective…Why, I even saw a caveman,’ Chet smiled. ‘So if this is the transition room, is this the next step, or have we been in it for our lives as we know them?’ Chet asked. ‘Pope Francis is washing the feet of the poor, and both are lost in a vortex of time,’ Chet noted. ‘I see myself as a child and a man and an old man in a glimpse of an eye,’ Chet marveled. ‘I am in a first-grade classroom at Hillcrest School with Billy B, and the teacher is asking me to take my hat off and place it in the cloak room…I wondered what the cloak room was for a moment,’ Chet mused. ‘Billy B and I are playing with our western action figures, and I have Daniel Boone, who is fashioned after the actor Fess Parker,’ Chet grinned. ‘Next to the house in Parish Addition in the early 60s is my accounting business where I am a success and have many employees,’ Chet marvelled. ‘When I turn my head, I am in the rest home with a nurse helping me eat my supper,’ Chet said sadly.

‘Well, we were playing Hide and Seek and God asked if he could play,’ Neva J said. ‘He laughed and said our adventure would reveal more than we had bargained for, and we would have more questions when the journey was complete,’ Neva J winked. ‘I have wanted to peek behind the Veil all my life, and suddenly we had the opportunity to do so,’ Neva J said. ‘The experience is like Deja vu with funhouse mirrors,’ Neva J explained. ‘There is peace behind the Veil,’ Neva J observed. ‘Behind the Veil reveals the many misconceptions we have had of death,’ Neva J said softly. ‘We are players on a great stage and the play never ends,’ Neva J spoke with assurance. ‘Our role in the Great Drama is a permanent one, it does not end with transition…it continues with profound purpose,’ Neva J said with tears in her eyes.

‘When I first looked behind the Veil, I felt I had been there before,’ Jane said. ‘There was mom and dad and all the memories of home…But I was living them behind the Veil,’ Jane questioned. ‘Was I in the Great Foyer of the Secret of the Ages…or had I been in it for my life and just now understood where I was,’ Jane asked?

‘The Great Doors fascinate me,’ Billy B said. ‘I do not remember coming in them, but I see people going out of them,’ Billy B mentioned. ‘Do you suppose it is the long hall of white light leading to Heaven?’ Billy B asked? ‘Is God at the other end of the brilliant hall with his arms outstretched and saying Welcome home, my child,’ Billy B postulated. ‘Or could it be you are a baby being born all over again…there is mom and dad and everything is new,’ Billy B smiled. ‘Are we looking for Superman and the Marvel Superheros, or are we surrounded by God daily and fail to notice our sense of place in his plan,’ Billy B said.

The great Doors opened slowly. ‘Who is ready for a terrific train ride?’ the Conductor asked. ‘In five minutes we depart for the answer to the Secret,’ the Conductor said with aplomb. ‘God is the Engineer and has been looking forward to our Holiday together,’ the Conductor announced. ‘Bring your furry friends with you as they will enjoy the journey,’ the Conductor said with a wide smile…

We are told that faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. Comforting words as we play hide and seek. We are actors in the Big Mystery. Where did we come from, and when do we leave? How could our world be so majestic and awe-inspiring by chance? Or…how could there be so much human suffering with a benevolent God at the controls?

‘I will count to 10 and you hide,’ Jane exclaimed. ‘I may peek,’ Jane laughed. ‘I like to read the end of a novel before I start it,’ Jane winked. ‘Be sure to hide where I can find you,’ Jane said.

‘I have always liked hide and seek, it is a mystery exercise,’ Chet mused. ‘There are so many places to become invisible to others,’ Chet commented. ‘Some nights Dad comes to me in my dreams and tells me that he will see me soon,’ Chet said softly.

‘Why hello there,’ Neva J said with a witty smile. ‘I was wondering when you would return here,’ she continued. ‘I have been puttering around in what seems to be a great foyer to a mansion,’ Neva J said with a smile. ‘Many people are coming through and then moving on out of the far doors at the end of the grand hall,’ Neva J said. ‘We all stop when we hear the bell that signifies God’s voice,’ Neva J informed. ‘It sounds like rushing waters and whiporwills to me,’ she said.

‘What is on the other side of the doors at the end of the great hall?’ Billy B asked. ‘Is that where the answer is to the Secret?’ he continued. ‘By the way, where is this Neva J?’ Billy B asked.

‘This is the Veil Room…we are behind the Veil,’ Neva J said. ‘This is where you come when you transition,’ she continued. ‘The people coming and going seem to be from all periods and centuries,’ Neva J said with a flourish. ‘I saw Kublai Khan and Mother Theresa walking hand in hand out by the coy pond the other day,’ Neva J grinned. ‘The Veil Room has no symmetrical limits, it is unending, but always the doors at the end of the great hall are in view,’ Neva J said with tears in her eyes. ‘Many live full lives in the Veil Room as they study infinity,’ Neva J noted. ‘They finally walk through the doors and we do not see them any longer,’ Neva J mused.

‘Time for supper,’ Neva J called out. ‘Tomorrow we will peek behind the Veil again,’ Neva J laughed a wonderful laugh.

Rain is a constant companion. We live in Dickensian times. Scrooge has all he wants, and Bob Cratchit shivers in the office. The miracles of capitalism are complete for a select few. Many ask for a crust of bread.

Stand in line for homage time. We owe our success to a select few. They must have their due. They love praise, and it is difficult to produce it fast enough. The need for approval is great, and the thirst is insatiable.

We are not doomed to repeat history; we rewrite it like a bad Play. A remake is in the works, and it will be better than the first. No more history of persecution of Native Americans. We Europeans were benevolent to the people here before us. We gave them select land. They have casinos.

Hitler won. He had stealth agents to take our country from within. Oppression is popular if you are the oppressor. It is good to be the King.

Slavery was on-the-job training. Kind landowners took African Americans under their wing and trained them in useful work. What a country of blond, blue-eyed super-humans. Now we provide sanctuary for the persecuted white folks who have not had an advocate until recently. Happy days are here again.

A little girl cries in the street. Hungry, cold, and nowhere to go. A little boy holds his sister’s hand. He is trying to protect her while he needs protection.

‘Bring in the clowns, we gotta have clowns.’The circus is in town. The poor sit in the cheap seats as usual. The new clowns are in town. Their humor is slapstick. Real pain is part of their new Vaudiville act.

A clear day with blue sky. All the world is an open book. Full of possibilities, the horizon is as far as the eye can see. I pondered my first time at the restaurant and considered it well…55 years since my first Italian Beef Sandwich bought from the side window in the alley. My cousin Billy and I traveled from Eldorado to Elkville to attend church. Church was a big deal, as was the Italian beef sandwich. DuQuoin was a happening place in those halcyon days. It was a Mecca to me. I subscribed to the DuQuoin Evening Call newspaper when I lived in Eldorado. DuQuoin had Green’s IGA, and Mr. Green, the owner, greeted me warmly every time I entered his grocery. I felt like I was somebody.

I had somewhat older friends who worked in DuQuoin, the two Michaels. Both Jewish and from Chicago. One Michael worked at a Camper Business, and the other worked for a Candy Vendor. Through the Michaels, I met my friend for life, Jeff. All three had been hippies. Through our friendship, I learned of other places besides Southern Illinois.

Emlings’ cafe was open all night, which was unusual for 1970. Mornings, we traveled to DuQuoin for biscuits, gravy, and more. An extraordinary adventure for a lad of 13 to eat and take in the sights of those who breakfast at 3:00 am.

Spring colors were pervasive. Excellent food and drink. Jennifer was with us and made the day complete. Laughter and easy living. A good day for time travel…

We drove to DuQuoin along highway #51, as we reflected on Tom’s Place, which was recently torn down. It was a historical landmark that had begun as a Speakeasy during Prohibition. Inside the establishment were several rooms that had once had secret doors to quickly escape the police if a raid occurred. We noted the changes in time and the loss of history.

‘I say it is a cold winter’s night,’ Chet exclaimed. ‘Winter may have just begun, but it feels like it has settled in for the long haul,’ Chet continued. ‘I remember Mom sitting by the window on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa Claus,’ Chet smiled. ‘Her dedication to Santa was complete,’ Chet noted. ‘My watching her by that window with the red candle in it caused me to know that St. Nick was the genuine article,’ Chet winked. ‘Our Christmas Tree could be seen behind her in the living room,’ Chet commented. ‘When I saw the red candle in the window, my heart was happy.. Mom was waiting for me to come home for Christmas,’ Chet reminisced.

‘Neva J loved the Christmas Lights of Eldorado,’ Billy B said. ‘Each year we would drive slowly through town and admire the festive glow,’ Billy B smiled. ‘Her face was the brightest light at Christmas,’ Billy B observed. ‘Neva J waited for me each day as I rode the bus home from school,’ Billy B recalled. ‘I could rely on her to be home to greet me as she rested before preparing supper,’ Billy B said.

‘Times are hard and things are bad,’ Jane said. ‘It seems the light has gone and we are foraging in darkness,’ Jane continued. ‘When Mom was here, I knew what to do,’ Jane said. ‘Mom had an unshakeable sense of place,’ Jane laughed. ‘When trouble arose, the warmth of the kitchen lights and the coal stove in the corner warmed the little table,’ I had many pieces of holiday coffee cake sitting at that table with Mom’s radiant, calm face,’ Jane beamed. ‘Mom caused worry to evaporate with her quiet, calm love,’ Jane whispered.

‘It is quite a slippery road we are on, and we slid onto a side road that I did not know was here,’ Billy B observed as the car abruptly stopped. ‘I see a red candle in the window and the glowing lights of a Christmas Tree in the background,’ Billy B observed.

‘The news on the car radio said that President and Mrs. Kennedy extended Merry Christmas wishes to everyone,’ Jane said with a quizzical look of happy lights in her eyes.