It is 85 degrees today with a 30-degree drop by Saturday. It is difficult to know what to wear. Green shoots and buds are appearing everywhere. The miracle of life surrounds us. Life is rich. We think about tomorrow when we are in the midst of excitement today. At any moment, there is more to experience than we can measure.

We instinctively understood as newborns that we had entered a mysterious place. We were overwhelmed. Something life-changing had happened. Abruptly set down in a place we had not imagined. We discovered where the soothing voice came from.

The woods were lovely this morning. A squirrel scampered about with sheer joy and speed of purpose. The Old Man walked through the Woods thinking about the challenges of Christ as he headed for his final week. The mystery and majesty of the Man was his willingness to suffer an ignominious…cruel…death. He was the son of regular folks…his dad was a carpenter. Christ had many poor, unloved people as his friends. The Common man heard him gladly. Christ made the water into wine…not grape juice. He loved a laugh…a glass of wine…talk of the joy of living.

‘I have a gift for you,’ the Deceiver said. ‘You are hungry and tired… your feet hurt and your mind doubts,’ the Deceiver noted with a concerned look. ‘Where are the cadre who swore their allegiance…fidelty…loyalty,’ the Deceiver asked? ‘Are they on a coffee break…holiday…have they left your side from fear…lack of courage…lack of character,’ the Deceiver asked solemenly. ‘Perhaps your Dad’s plan has changed, and he neglected to inform you,’ the Deceiver postulated. ‘Surely he must see your suffering…is he watching the NCAA Big Dance…perhaps he is thinking better luck next time,’ the Deceiver said. ‘What you were told by good old Dad…who is my dear old friend…does not seem to be working out,’ the Deceiver noted. ‘Dad and I have had many productive talks over the millennium,’ the Deceiver explained. ‘He has a great sense of humor…the flood was especially inventive,’ the Deceive laughed. ‘I also admired turning Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt…priceless,’ the Deceiver continued. ‘I visited the Salt Pillar and licked it…it was real salt,’ the Deciver said with a sly grin. ‘Dad wondered why what the Israelites in the Desert saw in the Golden Calf,’ the Decviver mused. ‘He thought it might be an idol fetish, the Deciver smiled. ‘Let me be your Consigliere and cut through the fog of War,’ the Deciver said with calm assurance. ‘I will help you remove the clutter of your questions…the promises unkept…the sorrow of suffering in this God-forsaken Garden…when you are the promised one,’ the Deceiver noted.

Spring is progressing. The Woods is blooming…with a controlled burn. A controlled burn is frightening if you do not know what is occurring. Smoke everywhere. Little fires throughout the forest. The Park Rangers watch attentively. One walks ahead to ensure safety. The Old Man said that the fires create a lot of smoke. The PR said yes and that there would be more before they had completed their mission.

So it is with us…We have controlled burns in our lives. We must throw hatred into the small fire. Selfishness and greed…prejudice… narcissism… conspiracy theories have to be burned safely.

Room for Peace is needed. Not the peace that money can buy…a sense of place is our home. At times, there is smoke in our lives. We search for the fire. Tears are a good counteragent to the flame. Tears of joy…hope… renewal as we travel the road Home.

Weeds come up in daily life. Trees fall in our soul and need to be removed. Brambles encircle our hearts. Vines tie up our spirits. All need a controlled burn to facilitate the new growth…the green shoots pushing through the blackened Earth. New life unencumbered by the hurts and imaginations…the trauma of our past.

MJ and I are well on the road to 50 years of marriage. 48 today. When we married, I was rail-thin and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. I was grinning because I knew how much I did not know. There was expensive gas 48 years ago, as there is now. 1978 was the year I got hired at SIU…but at the time of our marriage, that had not happened yet. Mary Jane was a school teacher, and I was a janitor. Some said it would not last. I think it has a chance. I wanted to be a minister in those halcyon days.

Looking forward, from 20 years old, the road of life seems long. Looking back from 68, it has flown by. On Saturdays, we visited MJ’s Mom and Dad in DuQuoin. At times, we drove to Eldorado to visit Neva J and Earl. By the time our first Christmas came, I had a job at the University and thus money to purchase Neva J and Earl a lovely landscape picture from Downs and Son Furniture Store in Elkville. I remember feeling so proud to have a new car and a nice Christmas gift for them. We had purchased a four-room house…I thought it was a mansion. I told MJ that we were finally in the game.

Marriage is listening more than talking. Three and a half years later, Aaron made the scene, and then a year and a half later, Jonathon bounded in. We make quite a crew! When MJ is not in my sight…I look for her…literally when we are shopping…I lose her in the crowd. If she is not with me…I am not complete.

MJ, Aaron, and Jonathon are my life. For some time, Jennifer has come into our lives and made them richer. My life is exciting…interesting…mysterious and humongous for a young man born in Chicago and raised in Eldorado. There is something new around every corner.

The weather is cool, and the air is crisp. Spring is here. The time of renewal. Peace among the ruins. Green shoots from the ashes of destruction.

Words can heal. They can make the lame walk and the blind see. They can soften the hardest heart. There is a magic to words.

‘Never a man spake like this man,’ said the Temple Officers.

The people gathered together during the plague. Sorrow and suffering surrounded the Earth. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth. Gnashing teeth emits the strangest sound. ‘Grating, squeaking, clicking, or crunching as teeth rub together. People sought gold…a golden calf…a symbol that would calm their frazzled nerves. Some were rich beyond their dreams…yet poor and impoverished in spirit. Televisions could not be made big enough to satisfy the desire to replicate the old-time movie houses. Young men broke bones in their faces to reassemble their appearances. Life was lived on the internet. Friends were there, and some were AI. What people read or saw on social media was accepted as the truth.

‘The Word is real, the Preacher said. ‘Take off your shoes, you are holy ground,’ the Preacher said. ‘God spoke our world, and all that surrounds it into existence,’ the Preacher noted. ‘Simple words have little effect until the Holy Spirit touches them,’ the Preacher explained. ‘Words touched by God move the hearts of women and men and children,’ the Preacher said with a strong voice. ‘Many of us have waited for years to hear the words of God…listen when you recognize it…It is a mysterious, majestic blessing,’ the Preacher said.

It has been a memorable weekend! Weekends of course are meant for fun and relaxation. People live large on their weekends. It is simply that I’ve …

A Memorable Weekend

MJ says she is refreshed. I feel the same. Church is refreshing! The message of Christ has to be lived…to be believed. His word is a lamp for our feet and a light for our path…we have to turn the light on. A messenger can switch on the light.

We walk about as if there is nothing to be done… nothing we can do. We have a platform that we will use. ‘A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver. We are on our way to the Via Dolorosa. The way of suffering…the way of sorrows. All of us are on a Pilgrimage.

It is 88 degrees today. Summer at the beginning of spring. Change is in the air. We breathe in hope and exhale despair. This is our day! We are like the Blues Brothers…we are on a mission from God. It is our place to be a representative of Christ in the midst of the ashes and potsherds. We must create beauty in the face of degradation. A kind word brings hope to the hopeless. A smile is a cool drink of water in the desert.

Neva J had little yet gave much. She loved the unlovable…those who society had forgotten…the folks on the side of the road that the religious leaders passed by on the other side of the street. If you were hurting or shunned…Neva J loved you and became your friend. Neva J was proud to be seen with her friends in the town square. Her friends held their heads high when Neva J accompanied them in Eldorado. No one had to tell her that empathy for the less fortunate was the right thing to do…she lived it with every fiber of her being. Neva J was a truth teller. She spoke truth to power. The Word of God was implanted in her soul. She understood that Jesus loves the little children…all the little children of the world.

‘We are here to make a difference,’ Chet said. ‘Tommy L sits by himself at the lunch table every day…he needs someone to eat with,’ Chet noted. ‘Tommy L has some physical challenges but is a wonderful person…he is bright, and his writing is insightful,’ Chet continued. ‘He greets me each morning and asks how Mom and I are doing since Dad’s death,’ Chet offered. ‘Tommy L told me he lost his Dad not long ago, and he understood the pain of such a loss,’ Chet said. ‘He said that we must stand for what we believe in to offer hope to those who have none,’ Chet said softly. ‘Easter is coming, and new life is upon us,’ Chet danced on one foot and then the other. ‘Christ came for the forgotten…we must remember that this was his primary focus,’ Chet admonished.

‘The preacher sweat as great drops of blood,’ the Chronicler wrote. ‘He wondered why he had been called upon for such a terrible mission,’ the Chronicler said. ‘A convincing voice spoke to him,’ the chronicler continued. ‘The Smooth Speaker spoke of kingdoms and rule over all of them, the Chronicler noted. ‘He promised friendship and camaraderie,’ the Chronicler continued. ‘He promised paradise without the suffering of attaining it,’ the Chronicler said in a whisper. ‘Reward without work…a payday without investment…a plan to forget others and think of self,’ the Chronicler said.

The temperature is summer-like. Convertible cars are driven with their tops down. There is a sense of fun in the air. ‘The winter is over and gone, and the sound of the turtle dove is heard in our land.’ Hope prevails. Peace fills many hearts in a time of chaos. Good surrounds us. Preacher says that all the Earth is Holy Ground. I have never heard this profound statement before…I like it!

Easter is coming. A day of renewal…recomitment…dedication to who we are.

‘Think about it…you can have whatever your heart desires if you will let me advise you,’ Oracle said. ‘No need to suffer and be hungry…criticism cuts like the lash…the people are for you one day and forget you the next,’ Oracle continued. ‘Soon they will deny knowing you…then the Cock will crow,’ Oracle laughed. ‘First comes palms in the road…then falling under the weight of the Cross,’ Oracle advised with a wink. ‘It is hard to find your sense of place when the ground keeps shifting,’ Oracle noted. ‘With me at your side, you will have consistency of purpose and loving adoration,’ Oracle promised. ‘I know how to elicit adoration and loyalty,’ Oracle laughed heartily. ‘Humans are fickle…governed by their passions and lust…pride goeth before destruction…a haughty spirit before a fall,’ Oracle winked. ‘Kids love me…I give them what they want…Necessary things for them and their greedy parents,’ Oracle noted. ‘I provided an outlet for retribution…for getting even for wrong done to you,’ Oracle said. ‘I sat at your Dad’s right hand for many years…he trusted me…I was his counselor…we were friends,’ Oracle said with feeling. ‘How is he doing…he seemed depressed the last time we spoke…he is a Good God Almighty,’ Oracle laughed at his word play.

So it goes… we need a renewal of purpose as we journey home. The road has been hard sometimes. We see Home in our binoculars. We remember it from before. It was lovely…it was warm…it was peaceful…we felt ourselves in our fullest when we were Home. We knew the precepts of Home when we were children…love each other and take care of each other… don’t steal another’s toys…nap time is vital…cold milk is delicious…listen to our friends with earnest…share…when our friends are happy, we are happy.

‘We were about something,’ the Storyteller said. ‘We spoke of the dignity of work,’ the storyteller continued. ‘Dad was a habadasher, and mom worked in the lunch room of the junior high school,’ the Storyteller noted. ‘They worked and saved their money until they could purchase a little house,’ the Storyteller noted. ‘They had a station wagon that we took vacations in during the summer,’ the Storyteller noted. ‘We worked hard in school so that we could succeed in life,’ the Storyteller explained. ‘We went to church every Sunday, and Sunday School, the Storyteller smiled. ‘I learned that Jesus loves the little children…all the little children of the world…red, yellow, black and white…all are precious in his sight,’ the Storyteller remembered. ‘We kids swore some in private company, but many words were verboten…Neva J said shit, and it had a profound effect,’ the Storyteller laughed. ‘Stores were closed on Sunday…you did not cut your grass on Sunday… no liquor was sold on Sunday,’ the Storyteller noted. ‘Neva J liked to Honky Tonk on Saturday night…she did not brag about it,’ the Storyteller winked.

‘I was a member of 4H and Girl Scouts,’ Neva J said with a smile. ‘I went to work in the Shoe Factory at 16,’ Neva J noted. ‘I made very little money…I thought I was rich,’ Neva J laughed. ‘Bill was drafted to fight in the Pacific,’ Neva J said. ‘I worked and waited for him to return,’ Neva J said quietly. ‘We girls and women kept the War effort alive on the home front,’ Neva J observed. ‘High Finance was kept in your bank book with each deposit and withdrawal meticulously entered in pen,’ Neva J said. ‘I practiced cursive writing until my product became quite legible…I wrote a lot of letters to Bill,’ Neva J continued. ‘Dutch went missing in the War, and we never saw him again,’ Neva J said with tears in her eyes. ‘When Bill came home, we moved from Southern Illinois to Chicago for work,’ Neva J explained. We came back to Eldorado when we began having marital discord…Bill opened a Mechanic Shop with his friend Bob. ‘We sisters went to Mom’s house each Monday night to visit with her,’ Neva J grinned. ‘I was continually saving money after experiencing what it was like to have none,’ Neva J noted. ‘I did not borrow money but gave it to the needy,’ Neva J said.

‘No one had a job…we worked for pennies a day…many who were rich could not cope with the change in their situation,’ the Storyteller said. ‘I worked at the CC Camp helping to build Giant City State Park, the Storyteller noted. ‘Everyone was the same…no one looked down on their brother or sister…we all were happy to have something to eat and a place to lay our head,’ the Storyteller noted. ‘The song lyric, ‘Brother, can you spare a dime,’ was our lives, the Storyteller continued. ‘Whoever comes to my home, I offer food,’ the Storyteller said. ‘I have a workingman’s house, but I buy plenty to eat and good cuts of meat,’ the Storyteller said. ‘We mind our own business, and I enjoy fishing and planting a big garden,’ the Storyteller explained. ‘We take a little vacation in our Maverick car and see as much of the country as we can…we eat tuna fish for lunch and take in dinner at one of the local restaurants,’ the Storyteller said.

We have lost stories. Our stories are what unite us. Stories give us our sense of place. Our stories cause us to press on when the going gets tough. Our stories compel us to care about each other.

The ice has melted. The snow is gone. Sap is rising in the trees and in we humans. I remember when it began just before Christmas. We were thinking about our imminent holiday in New Orleans. The joy of Christmas was everywhere. Now we are three months into 2026. Time goes too fast. There is a spirit of renewal in the air. Time to shake the winter hibernation off and set about to do what all good boys and girls must. The birds are singing…’ join us in the happiness of life.’ ‘Leave behind your doubts and fears and live while you can feel the warmth of the Sun,’ the Birds proclaim. ‘Shake off your cares and woes,’ the song extols. We live in a miracle, and at times, cannot see it for our troubled hearts and minds.

‘Live while you are alive,’ Mr. Badger extols. ‘There is no work nor device nor knowledge in the grave whither thou goest,’ Mr. Bader proclaims. ‘It is time for a great Spring Adventure,’ Mr. Badger says. ‘Politicans come and go, but life continues,’ Mr. Badger observes. ‘Let us go to where the Preacher is speaking,’ Mr. Badger suggests. ‘Ratty will take us by boat down the river to the meeting place,’ Mr. Badger informs. ‘There we will hear the story of Easter,’ Mr. Badger notes with a smile.

‘Climb aboard, gents, Ratty said. ‘There is a message of hope in the Woods,’ Ratty danced on the boat deck. ‘The Preacher said for all to come and hear his message,’ Ratty noted. ‘Preacher says that a change is coming…peace is at hand…there is a new world,’ Ratty said with a wide smile.

‘Let us go to the Woods to hear the Preacher that the government does not approve of,’ Chet said. ‘It is said that he has words of peace…words of comfort…a vision for the future,’ Chet continued. ‘The Preacher speaks of the old ways and things we have forgotten…of love for the poorest of us and succor for the homeless and hungry…the stranger and those who are forgotten,’ Chet explained. ‘Preacher speaks of his temptation…his suffering…his doubt and denial,’ Chet said softly. ‘The Desire of the Ages is among us, and we do not see it,’ Chet said boldly. ‘Preacher says many of us are trying to squeeze through the eye of a needle and need to offload our baggage of life,’ Chet offered. ‘It is not just the billionaire or the millionaire but many of us who have forgotten the message of Easter,’ Chet continued. ‘There is a change in life for us,’ Chet observed.

‘We have forgotten the value of human life,’ the Preacher said. ‘We have said never again…yet again has happened and is happening,’ the Preacher continued. ‘I had dark days of the soul…now we must accept that the end is not yet…but is coming,’ the Preacher said. ‘Morning is at hand…we must prepare for the joy of life without persecution…free speech and thought…safety,’ the Preacher said. ‘To doubt is human…to forgive divine,’ the Preacher said softly.

So it goes…spring begins as all other springs have. People go about shopping and working…hoping for renewal and purpose. Many trust what the Leader tells them. Others desire the old ways of help and kindness. Spring will soon become summer, and summer will become autumn. Then we begin again…will we be wiser for our efforts?

The days were troubled. The government led with a strong hand. Descent was not tolerated. Free speech was for the backrooms and woods. Disatisfaction was at a zenith. Yet no one stepped forward to speak truth to power.

A man of simple eloquence had a following. Word of mouth spread. ‘He speaks truth,’ the Lame Man said. ‘His words settle in my heart,’ the Lame Man continued. ‘He is not recognised by the powerful nor our religious leaders,’ the Lame Man continued. ‘He is dressed in our raiment and speaks with our accent,’ the Lame Man observed. ‘When I asked him where he came from, he asked me what I thought,’ the Lame Man noted. ‘The Teacher often asked a question with a question,’ the Lame Man mused. ‘He was non-descript and seemed to have no riches,’ the Lame Man explained. ‘His words were like the rushing of many waters and the flight of doves,’ the Lame Man laughed.

‘Leader…there is a man who speaks against you in the throng of humanity,’ Father said. ‘He is becoming popular with the poor and needy,’ Father continued. ‘His words are direct and pierce the hearts of many who hear them,’ Father noted. ‘I listened to him and for a brief moment…I believed,’ Father said with tears in his eyes. ‘He spoke of joy in the midst of suffering…our duty to help the poor and needy…peace in a time of war,’ Father said. ‘I heard music of a vast orchestra although there was none visibly present,’ Father explained. ‘The Teacher said he was back…although most did not realise it,’ Father said with a smile. ‘He speaks of being tempted by wealth and fame…internet influencers desire him to come on their podcasts…he said that he was offered all of the kingdoms of the world if he would just listen to you…Leader,’ Father said with solemnity. ‘The Teacher said he has chosen the poor of the land as his flock…those who are marginalised…halt and hungry…the forgotten,’ Father continued. ‘The Teacher says he is here to see us through the End Of Days…Armageddon…the Apocalypse,’ Father said.

‘Give us Barabas, the Throng cried out!

The Teacher’s back bled from the lash,’ Mary said. ‘The crown of thorns caused blood to impair his vision, Mary continued. ‘He is first of all…kind,’ Mary said. ‘He is unassuming and gentle,’ Mary noted. ‘He is a man who you would not pick out of the crowd of fishermen and carpenters unless you saw his eyes and heard him speak,’ Mary noted. ‘He loves his mother…he works with his hands as a carpenter in his Dad’s shop,’ Mary continued. ‘He came slowly to his role as Teacher…he wanted to open his own carpenter shop…he enjoys eating roasted lamb and fish cake with figs for dessert,’ Mary said. ‘He loves playing with his brothers and sisters and visiting the theatre to see the performances,’ Mary explained. He is a storyteller and writer…he loves to make people happy,’ Mary said with a smile. ‘He grieves when he sees people with leprosy and crippled…he loves the unloved,’ Mary said with tears in her eyes. ‘He talked with me as to the mission God had for him and wondered if it was his imagination or the truth,’ Mary said. ‘He wrestled with his doubts in the Garden and almost gave in to a deceiver with a voice of oil and pleasant to the ear,’ Mary noted.

‘What shall we do in the face of overt oppression?’ Child asked. ‘Is it safer to comply with the wishes of the Leader and disappear into the crowd of followers?’ Child asked. ‘Teacher says stay close to him, and he will see us through,’ the Child continued. ‘I love my friends who are hungry and hurting,’ the Child said. ‘My friends tell me to go along, but I can not when it hurts my friends, ‘ the Child said.

‘Never have I seen such a man,’ the Roman Centurian said. ‘He forgave us…We did not deserve it,’ Roman Centurian said. ‘He did not want to die…he was full of life and love…care for those who had no one to care for them,’ Roman Centaurian said. ‘He had the appearance of the angels,’ the Roman Centurian observed. ‘Have we crucified the one who had come to save us?’ Roman Centurion asked.