I see a little bee outside the Writing Porch. He is going about his day with neither concern nor care. He understands his mission. Bees are a comfort. They live with us without issue. Such are we, little people. The Bullfrog is singing. He is practicing for the concert. His song is melodious. Our Earth is under stress, but is still functioning.

I heard on a podcast that many people are using credit cards to purchase gas. Not a surprise. Credit card debt is rising rapidly. What is a member of the Little People to do? The cost of living is climbing. Wages are not.

Some would have us believe that it is in God’s plan for suffering and the end times. Perhaps it is leaders not listening to God, and the problem is greed. God does not brush our teeth in the morning nor comb our hair. Some things we are responsible for.

Little folks walk across the stage, and the boards do not creak. The oxygen is consumed by gifted orators. They talk and produce little. They tell the lie, and many believe it. If the lie fits our worldview, we are all in. Little people are humble. We are taught to believe what the Leader tells us. How else did he or she become the Leader?

We sit in the marketplace and wait for our turn. We raise our hands, but no one calls on us. Little People make a big difference. Often, we have to unite to be heard by the elite and gifted Con Artist leaders. When a Leader tells the Little People that they are going to work in their interest…the Leader does the opposite, we Little People notice.

‘I think the path veers to the left,’ Chet said as he studied his compass. ‘The Leader to the summit has taken a rest stop about a mile back,’ Chet continued. ‘I saw him as we passed his aides who were bringing him foot lotion,’ Chet laughed. ‘He swore to us he knew the way and had made this climb numerous times,’ Chet said. ‘He is hopelessly lost and a bit in his own world,’ Chet commented. ‘The Leader talks a good game but refuses to use a compass,’ Chet noted. ‘I heard him say if he could find another job, he would take it,’ Chet winked. ‘He is hoisted on his own petard,’ Chet chuckled. ‘This happens when no one gives the Leader another point of view or disagrees with his erroneous assessment,’ Chet mused.

‘I see the Preacher ahead, and he is beckoning for us to follow him,’ Jane said. ‘The Preacher appears in times of anxiety and stress, Jane continued. ‘His voice is calm, and his words are clear,’ Jane whispered. ‘He does not brag or boast,’ Jane noted. ‘His eyes are tired and kind,’ Jane observed. ‘He is drawn to the poor and needy, the Little People who have been unseen and unheard by the rich and powerful,’ Jane observed with tears in her eyes. ‘When he speaks to you, he sees your soul,’ Jane said.

‘Be not afraid, God is watching,’ the Preacher said. ‘We are safe in the Woods,’ the Preacher continued. ‘The nice part of being part of the Little People is going unnoticed,’ the Preacher continued. ‘Often I am in the room where the President makes his decisions, and I am unseen,’ the Preacher explained. ‘People with hurtful and cruel ideas are given the floor and applauded,’ the Preacher continued. ‘Everyone waits in fear until the President says what he wants and then they all speak in unison of his brilliance and majesty and his royal clothing,’ the Preacher said. ‘Mary told me that it would be the same in the future as in the past,’ the Preacher said with downcast eyes.