Sunset Havens - Homeschool Blogger

What is a sin for one is a sin for another

Wed, 7 Mar 2007 13:01:00 -0600

What is morally objectionable for one person is morally objectionable for all. Subjective (or relative) morality is an error that was condemned by the Church a long time ago. Were it not so, then murder, rape, abortion, stealing, etc... would be sometimes morally permissible and some times not (depending upon the person). This of course is false.

The only room for an exception here is if a person (through ignorance) fails to see a problem with something that is objectively wrong due to an immature conscience which is not fully formed in the Catholic faith.

There are Objective Truths and Subjective truths. Subjective in this sense means that one can "shop around" for an opinion which suits their behavior, but is (from a morally objective view) nonetheless a falsity resulting from a decision based upon a conscience that is not properly formed. This is the state with many laymen and yes, even priests today. A Catholic man who has access to the teachings of the Church (especially one who knows the Catholic faith is the one true faith and who has access to the internet), can not hide behind a "cloud of unknowing" in order to excuse bad choices in entertainment or other modes of behavior.

No examples are needed here, because our present society is so full of situations where people "shop around" for a theology which suits their behavior instead of changing their behavior to suit newly learned truths about God and about man.

It all comes down to this, if a Catholic man says he knows Jesus Christ, and believes that Jesus Christ would not have a problem with entertainment which either exalts sin, degrades the human person, makes a mockery of holy things, or conforms to the spirit of the world, then that Catholic man is fooling himself and does not really know the Master. It's just that simple.

So while, yes... a poorly formed conscience is an excuse, one who has just read these paragraphs can no longer claim to have a poorly formed conscience... See... matter solved if a person makes it to the last sentence here.

I’ve asked my dad many times if it is a sin to lie to save someone’s life. And he answered me in this way: It is never a sin to lie to save someone’s life, but it has to be imminent danger. A lie for any other reason is always a sin.

Related to this, what is a sin for one, is a sin for another (assuming both have a fully grown conscience).

The moment a person pleads ignorance of the truth as an alibi for sin, they are guilty because they show themselves aware that their conscience is in ignorance and have done nothing to form their conscience for the better.

Truth be told.... I am supposed to be working on math, and in a way I am. Type, math, type, math, type, music, type, math, type, type, math, type, math, math... That's basically how I'm working ;-)

So, Pax Christi tibi!
In Christ, through Mary,
-ElvenMusician-

I fell out of my chair. This might take a while.

Fri, 26 Jan 2007 02:02:00 -0600

I am so unbelievably tired, it's pathetic! What did I do today?? Lets see now...

1: Piano lessons, 2 1/2 hours sitting.
2: Breakfast - bagel and eggs.
3: School, hours and hours of sitting.
4: Lunchtime, but I didn't eat lunch. I just saw and drew and listened to music. Another hour of sitting.
5) Went out and played with Falk for about 20 minutes.
6) Came back in, did school, more hours of sitting.

So you could say, really, no I didn't do anything to make me so tired. If anything, I should be wide awake! Maybe I'm still tired from the March for Life........ well, tomorrow we're going ice skating for two hours, like we do every Friday, I should find out by then. I can't' wait to go and ge ton the ice! =) *Jumps*

Well I'm too lazy to write anything else - which - really - I have TONS to write. But my eyes seem to keep wandering to my alarm clock, and my mind seems to keep wandering at the time set to go off: 6 AM. Only six hours of sleep for moi. Well... that's it. I'm hittin' the sack. Nighty night. Don't let the comp bugs bite. *Ponders* Nvm.

God Bless! Pax Christi tibi! Namarie van mellon! Chou! Adios! Post tomorrow! Hopefully.
In Christ, through Mary,
-Reese-

The shot heard clear 'round the world.

Wed, 10 Jan 2007 01:30:00 -0600

The story of the battles of Lexington and Concord have to be one of my most favorite History topics and stories. General Gage, Paul Revere, William Dawes, the minutemen, "the shot heard round the world". There is also the battle of Bunker Hill, and the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Ah, History, I love it.

Well about an hour ago dad got home from the Huckabee reception, in the City. Go Huckabee! I so hope he runs for president! Not that dang Hilary! BLAH. (Yeah, I know, what Andrew Carter always says in Hogan's Heroes: "Newkirk, name-calling never solves anything!" but I can't help it. It makes me feel better. >.< Especially when it comes to Hilary.) Huckabee is definitely like another Ronald Ragon (sp) – he has to run! *Prays* Dad had gone with two of our friend homeschooling dads, and Peter, the son of one. Pete is actually something for Huckabee. I forgot what you call them, but I can't believe it. - I just pray that Huckabee is the future president!

I wish I could have gone with dad. But I am too young. And M and G and Mom and I watched four MacGyver episodes and a Little House on the Prairie. So we had a fun time together, as well. Haha, mom got really dragged in to the MacGyver episodes. I admit, so did I. They were great. It's like - like - a modern(er-er) Sherlock Holmes! Kind of. Holmes and MacGyver are the same but very different. Each in their own wonderful way, though! Love them both.

Right now I am listening to my new Brad Paisley CD. Country music rules. - Right after Classical, of course. Classical and Country = THE AWESOMEST MUSIC EVER.

I think I am going to hit the sack. You know, though, I always say that, but never actually do it. Oh well... I gotta think beeeeed. *Starts to yawn*

Pax Christi tibi,

In Christ, through Mary,

-T-

There's a light at every tunnel,

Wed, 3 Jan 2007 16:03:00 -0600

just pray it’s not a train.

Well anyhoo, here is a poem I wrote on Christmas Eve, at night:

Ave Maria, gratia plena

I heard a song, one early bright morning,

As I lie across the grass to pray,

It sounded like angels voices,

“Ave Maria, gratia plena!” Is what they say.

And then came a chorus,

Like millions of angles on the ground.

I could see them and their harps of gold,

Then sprouted silver roses, I found.

The voices went on, and my ears rang with sweetness.

And then I saw a light, it came where I stood,

A woman more beautiful than ever,

I cannot explain it! I would tell you if I could!

Her gown was white, her shawl was blue,

And flowers were placed at her feet.

I gasped in amazement, at this beautiful sight.

She said, “My dear child, finally, we meet.”

“I ask you, who are you, my little one?”

She asked me as I gazed at the light.

“But - what is your name and where are you from?”

I asked her in fright.

But I got no answer from this woman,

She just stepped closer and reached out her hand,

“What is your name and where are you from?”

I asked again, but all she said was “I am your friend.”

“Follow me, and you will find love,

Follow me, follow me to above.

Take my hand, and I shall lead you on,

To the green, green grass upon.”

I hesitated, and closed my eyes,

This was a stranger whom I was to go.

But suddenly I felt a hard jolt,

And from then on I still do not know.

But I followed her, something told me,

For she was too beautiful to leave,

“And where are we going?”

I asked, but she just answered, “Believe!”

And as we walked, we walked on far,

We walked some distant together,

I felt so good; I felt such love and beauty.

In sweetness, oh I wish it could have lasted forever!

And then we came to three paths,

“Choose, my little one,”

She said, and my eyes fell upon the roads.

“Choose the correct, and you will find my Son.”

The left road was smooth and flat,

No hard paths along,

All was clean and clear,

I found nothing wrong.

But I looked beyond that clean road,

And I saw what I not know,

It was such pain and torture and fear,

That path I would not go.

The middle road was bumpy at times,

But every now and then it smoothed out.

It was clear, then hard then clear again,

The road changed quite often, as I looked about.

But I looked beyond that confusing road,

And saw what I not know,

It was a cleansing but a painful fire,

Still, there I would not go.

The right path was hard and stiff,

The hills were steep and high.

There were bloodstains on the road,

But a light was in the sky.

Then I looked beyond that hard road,

And saw what made me leap.

It was such beauty and freshness and peace,

That was the road I would keep!

I found pain; my hands and knees were bloodied,

I took a step, but I fell upon the stone and thorn,

But all the way through, the woman was by my side

When I was tired, when I was hurt, when I was worn.

I climbed for miles, fell almost every step.

I cut my hands and skinned my knees,

I wiped the sweat from my face,

As I passed along the green, green trees.

Then I stopped, for I saw something I cannot explain,

In the middle I saw a Throne made of wood,

There was sunlight and fresh air, but silver droplets of rain.

I saw a person sitting upon it, and I received a feeling of good.

I walked on closer, but fire rose before me,

And a black flame devoured the sight,

And no more could I see.

Then I looked, and found myself right,

For this journey was the story of my life.

I realized my faults, and tears came falling down,

And then I saw the beautiful woman standing before me in her gown.

I cried and kissed her feet, and cried aloud in shame,

“Mother, save me! Save me from this pain!”

And she said a word, and my hearing went,

And I saw the flame disappear,

As the road behind me bent,

And there was nothing I could hear.

“Come with me, my little one,

Come and follow the Truth.

For if you follow my way and His,

You will receive the blessed Fruit”

That is what she said,

And I followed.

Then I entered a door,

It was more beautiful than I can tell you!

I passed angels and Saint Peter!

And I knew it was all true.

I was Home,

Home together,

Home, I would stay forever,

In the hands of Christ,

In the Hands of Mary,

In the Hands of Saints.

I heard a song, one early bright morning,

As I lie across the grass to pray,

It sounded like angels voices,

“Ave Maria, gratia plena!” Is what they say.

It is better to be silent and thought a fool

Fri, 29 Dec 2006 00:33:00 -0600

than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.

How true that is. How true.

So, today we did notin', really. But tonight we saw our Cousin and his wife. It was so nice seeing them again!

I can't exactly think of what to post, so I'm just going to be a complete...Miss. Randomness, tonight. I am listening to Switchfoot now, writing M's story, also taking a few breaks here and there and reading "Emma" by Jane Austen, M gave me the book for Christmas. I am also nodding off at my keyboard *yawns* gosh I am absolutely so amazingly incredibly exhaustingly exhausted... *blink* I might even hit the sack now, early it may be. Or maybe I'll go in M's room and chat. That's probably what I'll do.

Lately we have all been watching "Hogan's Heroes". The best show/episodes EVER. In the WHOLE world. - Besides MacGyver, Andy Griffith, and My Favorite Martian. *nods*

Okay. I did it. I am just waaaaay too tired to type more. Adios! Namarie! Cya! Chou! Pax Christi tibi! God Bless!!

In Christ, through Mary,

-Reese-

Have a Blessed Christmas

Fri, 22 Dec 2006 16:03:00 -0600

And may God Bless you all. I am looking forward to this Sunday. It is the Eve of Christ's birthday. Imagine what a celebration they are having in Heaven right now!

Anyhoo, this is a poem I wrote only a few days ago, about books and reading:

Books
Its life is on its own pages,
It is full of love and sometimes hatred,
It whispers into my ears whenever I sleep,
It calms my fears whenever I weep.

I call it a friend, because it can be so dear to me.
But sometimes not, sometimes it is too free.
It can hurt me deeply, or love me true,
It can tell me things of old or new.

It can be so light, but so heavy at times,
It can rust like an old fence, or it can shine.
It can tell me the truth, or lie in my face,
It can spit me out or it can embrace.

It is full of fear, but can be full of safety,
“Read me now!” it always tells me.
It can have such evil, such hatred which is sin,
But it always has good in it, and the good always win.
(( - At least, I wish, in some books, that good would always win...))

It holds onto time,
I am proud to call it mine.
It lifts so high or drops so low,
It can begin so fast and end so slow.

I love to hear its wrinkling, the turn of its pages,
I can see its worlds, its life, love, and faces.
I love to feel the smoothness of its cover against my palms,
It breathes in my face when I open it and grips my arms.

I hold it tight as I travel through its mountains and hills,
Passing along Castles and houses and mills.
I fly through its clouds; soar through its sky,
Walk inside the dark forests, or climb the rocks so high.

I battle against the strongest knights,
Defeat all enemies in the evil fights.
I enter the Palace doors, and bow before the King,
As he takes my hand and kisses my ruby ring.

I walk among dryads, ride upon centaurs,
I sit in the breeze and stare at the wavy shores.
I walk in the moonlight, and sniff the cool air,
But I must remember my duty,
for life is not always as peaceful and fair.

I can be a fairy, or a knight, or I can sit and be a royal Queen,
I can be a horse, or the dog of a prince, or even a magic bean…
I can be a wizard, I can be a dwarf, or I can be a man or an elf,
I can be an evil, evil villain, or I can just be myself!

I could be the wizard Merlin, and fight against wrong,
I can be King Arthur! And rule and sit upon my Throne.
I can be Aragorn, the King of Gondor,
Or I can be the steward, Denathor, and always want more.

I can be the Black Prince of the Ink world, with his big fuzzy bear,
I could be Dustfinger the fire-eater! Or his pet marten, with all the hair.
I can dream of Narnia, and be Queen Susan the Kind,
Or I could be Queen Lucy the Valiant- the magic wardrobe she did find.

I can be Sherlock Holmes, and solve the most mysterious cases,
I can be Doctor Watson, and look for mysterious faces.
I can be Phileas Fogg, and travel the world in only eighty days,
Or I could be his servant, Passepartout, “Wi, monsieur.” He always says.

I could be Ness the Irish lass, who was captured by the proud Beorn,
Or I could be the evil crew, and blow the Viking horn.
I can be the smart Artemis Fowl, and know almost everything,
Or I could be Holly Short, with fairy gold to bring.

I can be The Thief Lord himself, and run from house to house,
I can be Bo or Hornet, or even the theatre mouse.
I can be as smart as Kim, with her radio and key,
Or I could be as wise as Mark, her fiancé.

I can be Elizabeth, and stop the mother from being rude,
Or I could be Mr. Bennet… “And yet, I am unmoved!”
I can be the detective, Miss Marple, and go about my business,
Or I can be the detective, Monsieur Poirot- always restless.

I can be Obi-Wan Kenobi, a most powerful good Jedi,
Or I can be a creature, an Ewok, who are quite shy.
I could be Nellie Oleson, and put on a show,
Or I can be Laura Ingalls, and marry Almanzo.

All these places, all these things,
All this fantasy, and that it brings,
Faith, and hope and love,
Rivers and dreams and birds and doves.

All confined each in one book, a story that tells it all,
Like my life, the pen never stops in my mind, even if I fall.
All upon something so light, something so shiny and so thin,
All is written, all has stayed, …all is kept within.

God Bless! Have a Merry, Merry, Merry, Blessed, Blessed, Blessed, CHRISTmas!

Pax Christi tibi,

-T-

Testing

Fri, 22 Dec 2006 12:27:00 -0600

Just testing something.

Don't walk in my footsteps.

Sat, 9 Dec 2006 23:54:00 -0600

I walk into walls. *Rubs head* I wonder if this being sick has to do with any of it. No, really. I have been bonking and walking and running and banging into people and walls lately - it is PATHETIC! *Sniffle* Am I going insane or something?? I mean, I have eyes, I guess I just don't use them 0.0 *blink* *blink* So, today I was walking along from our living room to my bedroom, la-di-da-di-da, - and WHAM. I suddenly see twinkling stars and all the planets around me. Yeah, they didn't actually make sense, but I was in too much pain to notice that Saturn had no ring and Mars was purple and pink... or maybe I was imagining my own forehead, and not Mars *thinks* ... I'm not sure yet. - Oh! And then - then, I am walking along at a supermarket with mom, and we are heading towards the medicine/sick (whatever you want to call it) isle, and as I am walking I see this girl and her boyfriend walking the opposite way as I am. But, you see, this hadn't clicked in my head yet until I realized I knocked the purse out of the girls hand and the two bread bags from her boyfriends arm. Duh. The Opposite way, Theresa - heeellloooo! *Knocks on head* What is with me? Its very embarrassing ^.^ that poor girl! At least I didn't dent the bread bag. *Nods* That woulda been bad. ;-)

Anyway, while mom and I were out tonight (and I out bonking into things) we went to a store and I finally got Marie's b-day card. I am a day late, and by the time it gets to where she lives it will be five days late, but, oh well. Tiss the thought dat counts!

Right now I am listening to Hilary Hahn play Johann Sebastian Bach on the violin. Well...not literally. I mean, Bach isn't actually in her violin, but his pieces are...you know.
-It is Heaven! I love it! *Gasps* She is so darn amazing!!! I love Bach. I could play his pieces on the piano forEVER. Unfortunately, I don't think I give him enough justice when I play, but, hey, I try! I wish I could play them on the violin. But I have enough trouble as it is, with the piano, haha. My Edith (-Edith is my piano) is the best piano in the world. I love 'er dearly! I don't like any other piano. Every time we go to a friends house or my teachers, my teachers mostly, but the pianos just aren't like my Edith! They are either too soft or too loud or too hard or too low or too not sound-ish...if you know what I mean. But Edith is just right! I love 'er!! -it.

Well I have been ordered to go to bed. Maybe it's a good thing I am, or I'll be acting silly all night. Dear me, this is bad. I have been slaphappy these past few nights. Really slaphappy. It's the being sick! I know it! It is! I can't wait until I'm better. *Grabs more tissues* *blows nose* Ib breeaally can't bait to get obver dis cowld *sneezes* I feel biserable, and by dose is hoiting like heck. (Translation: I really can't wait to get over this cold. I feel miserable and my nose is hurting like heck.)

Pax Christi tibi!!

In Christ, through Mary,

-T-

Snow

Sat, 9 Dec 2006 12:38:00 -0600

SNOW

ElvenMusician/Reese

It is white magic that fills the air,
It falls so slow, so gentle and so fair.
It settles upon your open hand,
As if ready to be loved;
This white powder from above.

It can be so thick, so light,
Yet oh so smooth and bright,
It shines sparkles and twinkles
Like gems and diamonds upon the ground,
Just waiting to be touched, just waiting to be found.

It is your very close friend,
It meets you each December day,
In white shoes and cap and suit,
With nothing much to say,
But �play!�, as you holler �Shoot!!�
And a white ball soars through the cold air.

This white friend is Mister Snow,
I know him very well.
We�ve played together since we were kids,
This I surely know.
He laughs, he dances, he plays a tune so fine,
This white friend is Mister Snow,
A very close friend of mine.

Yes, how I wish we had snow! Not too much to be dangerous, but just enough to be scary ;-) j/k! =D

Man. I am sick of being sick. In fact, I am so sick of being sick I could... I don't really know what I could do... probably a lot of things, but, never mind. Lets not go into that.

It's so HOT IN THIS HOUSE *hollers* why does everyone in my family get so cold all the time?? I'm always the one getting hot and sweaty. It just isn't fair!! Oh my gosh it is *gasps* it. is. so. hot. in. here. -Okay. That does it. I'm lowering the heat.

Phew. Alright. I'm okay. >.< Pardon me, this morning. I am in a really dorky, weird, annoying, angry, fed up, sick, mood.

This Friday is my piano recital!! Oh *cries* I am going to make so many mistakes! WHY?? Why did we have to get sick RIGHT before my recital?? Well, friends, I could use LOTSA prayers. So many that I can hear them while I'm playing Tchaikovsky on Friday night!!!

Argh. I better get practicing. I should go for a bike ride today, or something and get all my energy out. *Jumps* *Runs* *Bonks* *Falls*

Pax Christi tibi,

-T/Reese-

A short story by yours truly.

Fri, 8 Dec 2006 19:58:00 -0600

I don't think I've ever finished a story before, in my whole life 0.0 I was very shocked. So, it ain't the best at all and the grammar is hoooorrible, but I finsihed it! However badly written it may be.

The Poor Mans Treasure

T/Reese

It was raining. Again. Some people did not mind rain, but some did. More, at least, who I know, hated it. They missed the sun smiling away. The full moon closing his eyes. The twinkling stars singing goodnight. The birds chirping by their windows to sing �wake up, wake up, wake up, my friends! Another day has come!� But the birds were in their nests, and none showed up those days. The roads were empty, and houses full, the chimneys glowing, the children crying, dripping and quiet forests � but there was one who did not stay in, who did not cry, who did not desert the roads and forests. He walked about the forests in joy, smelling the damp and dripping branches and leaves. He would often walk for an hour, and then sit down by the first prettiest tree he came to; to him, it was pretty even though the rain slowly dripped down�one drop by one. When sitting, he would open his soggy pack, and pull out the soggy bread and cheese, and the small bottle of fresh water, and eat and drink. When he finishes, he walks to the towns, and looks at all the pretty shops and tents. Oh, how he would wish, now and then, that he could buy a new cloak, but he could not. He huddled against his own old cloak, thankful he had one at all. When he passes, people look at him. What do they see in him? I do not know. For, when they tell me what he is like, they are so engrossed in telling such wonderful things about him.
But this man walks on, and on, and on, and on, �until he walks far away from them, and he comes to a large, large, large, building.
��Ho, poor man, what do you seek? For this is King Ohnavi�s Castle; what could a poor ragged man like you want and receive from it?� Came a voice by the gates,
��Ho, poor guard, what do I seek? I seek nothing, I want nothing, but might I receive something � that is a different question. For I hope, if one can spare, your King Ohnavi shall care for me for a day, until I return to my journey.� Replied the man,
�Then, poor man, you do seek something!�
�Only if the King wishes it, poor guard.�
�On with you! Poor, poor, ragged man! We have no need for you here! On with you!� And with that, the poor man bowed, smiled, and left the poor guard�s presence.
So this man walks on, and on, and on, and on �until he comes to a large sized house. Candle lights and shadows were lit behind the twelve windows, the chimney was smoking and the smell of roast beef, ham and potatoes could be smelt.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Creak.
��Ho, poor man, what do you seek? For this is my home � and there is only room for one woman to stay! What could a poor ragged man like you want and receive from me?� Came a voice by the door,
��Ho, poor woman, what do I seek? I seek nothing, I want nothing, but might I receive something � that is a different question. For I hope, if one can spare, your home shall care and take me in for a day, until I return to my journey.� Replied the man,
�Then, poor man, you do seek something!�
�Only if you wish it, poor woman.�
�On with you! Poor, poor, ragged man! I have no need for you here! On with you!� And with that, the poor man bowed, smiled, and left the poor woman�s presence.
So this man walks on, and on, and on, and on, �until he comes to a medium size house. Children ran outside and hopped in the puddles as the rain came pouring down. The chimney was smoking and the smell of beef stew, vegetables and bread could be smelt.
He passes the laughing and playful children.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Creak.
��Ho, poor man, what do you seek? For this is my home � and there is only room for three children and a mother and father to stay! What could a poor ragged man like you want and receive from me, a poor and weary working father like me?� Came a voice by the door,
��Ho, poor father, what do I seek? I seek nothing, I want nothing, but might I receive something � that is a different question. For I hope, if one can spare, your home and wife and children shall care for me and take me in for a day, until I return to my journey.� Replied the poor man,
�Then, poor man, you do seek something!�
�Only if you wish it, poor father.�
�On with you! Poor, poor, ragged man! I have no need for you here! On with you!� And with that, the poor man bowed, smiled, and left the poor father�s presence.
So this man walks on, and on, and on, and on, �until he comes to a small house, with piles of chopped up wood by the side, the chimney lit and the smell of fresh bread and pie could be smelt.
So the poor man walks up to the door, and:
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Creak.
��Ho, poor man, what do you seek? For this is my home � and there is only room for my cat and an old maid! What could a poor ragged man like you want and receive from me?� Came a voice by the door,
��Ho, poor maid, what do I seek? I seek nothing, I want nothing, but might I receive something � now, that is a different question. For I hope, if one can spare, your home and cat shall care for me and take me in for a day, until I return to my journey.� Replied the man,
�Then, poor man, you do seek something!�
�Only if you wish it, poor maid.�
�On with you! Poor, poor, ragged man! I have no need for you here! On with you!� And with that, the poor man bowed, smiled, and left the poor maid�s presence.
So this man walks on, and on, and on, and on �until he comes to a pretty tree, with its dripping leaves and damp branches.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Shwoop.
��Ho, poor man, what do you seek? For this is my home. What could a poor man like you want and receive from a poor blue bird in a tree and nest, like me?� Came a song by a branch,
��Ho, poor blue bird, what do I seek? I seek nothing, I want nothing, but might I receive something � that is a different question. For I hope, if one can spare, you, your home, some food and rest, shall care for me and take me in for a day, until I return to my journey.� Replied the man,
�Then, poor man, you do seek something!�
�Only if you wish it, poor blue bird.�
�Come with me, poor man, I will show you where you can stay. Stay in my home, rest and feast, though little my amount may be. Warm yourself and watch yourself, sleep until you may return to your journey.� And the poor blue bird led the poor man under a thick tree branch, where the rain would lightly tap against.
�Thank you, dear poor blue bird. You are the only friend to help. Your kind thoughts and charity towards me is a greater treasure than anything.� With that, the poor man fell asleep, and dreamt of spring flowers, the sea, and a clear blue sky.

Now the next day, the rain had stopped, and the poor man had woken up to say: �Dear poor blue bird! Look at the sky! It is a lovely blue, so clear � oh so beautiful!�
The poor blue bird flew up and away, and soared beneath the changing clear blue sky.
�Ah! Dear poor man! A lovely day it tiss! The clear sky, the blooming flowers, the green, green trees, the rose bushes, ah! Ah!� And he sniffed the cool windy air.
�I must go in to town, dear poor bird, to try and get more food.� Before the poor man left, he took his soggy pack and filled it up with all the green leaves he could find, from the trees or the ground. So the poor man walked on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on�until he came to a small town, where people passed around him, carrying packages or children or animals or wood. Behind a crowd, the poor man found a table with food set on it.
�Would you like to buy an apple, poor man?� The boy behind the table asked,
�Dear poor boy, I should not like to have an apple, for, I should like to have two apples. But I have no money to spare! If I give you this green leaf, will you give me an apple or two?� Asked the poor man,
�Green leaf? -Certainly not!! On with you! And go beg somewhere else!� Hollered the boy behind the table of food.
So this poor man walks on, and on, and on, and on � until he comes to a baker. This baker was just opening up his bakery, as he yawned and smiled at the morning animals and people passing by. So the poor man walked up to him with a friendly smile and said, �Oh dear baker, would you mind if I could have two slices of the fresh hot bread you make? I hear it is the best in town!�
�Surely you may, poor man!� Answered the baker,
�I thank you, dear baker!� The poor man replied.
And so the baker entered his bakery and gave the poor man some fresh baked bread. �For a small fee,� said he.
And at this, my friends, you can imagine the poor man�s reply, �I have no silver, or gold, or any sort of rich jewelry to give, but I do have this green leaf to give you, for the kind favor you have bestowed upon me.�
�Green leaf? Certainly not, poor man! I work all day on bread, seven days a week and I will not give the precious hot loaf for a green leaf!� Cried the baker, �On with you! I do not want you here! Go beg somewhere else, pitiable old man!�
So this poor man walks on, and on, and on, and on � until he comes to a short bridge which crosses a river. There, legs crossed at the edge of the short small bridge sat a short small boy, about twelve or thirteen years of age, eating his lunch. The poor man walked up and knelt beside him, smiling kindly to the waving river that passed below.
�Hello there, boy!� He greeted him joyfully,
�Hello, mister!� Replied the young boy with a mouthful of a cookie, as he held the ham and bread to his lips.
�Beautiful day! Is it not, boy?� The poor man asked as he eyed the blue sky and flowing white clouds.
�Aye, it is, mister!� Said the boy, as he took a bite of the ham and bread after swallowing the cookie.
�Might you share with a poor old man like me?� The poor man asked lightheartedly.
�But�� The boy swallowed the first bite and began to take another, when the poor man put a gentle hand on him,
�Please, boy? You have more than enough there, and I doubt you will finish it all. Look at it! You have enough saved for dinner, ha!� The poor man chuckled as he eyed the chubby faced boy.
The boy thought this over for a moment, and then looked at the poor man and said, �You are a poor man, why don�t you go beg to a rich man?� He then looked down at the river and thought again, �I will give you some of my lunch, poor mister, for three gold coins!�
�I have no three gold coins, nor two, nor even one, for that matter. But I have this beautiful green leaf to give you, if you give me only a half of your meal.�
The boy thought this over for a moment, then, looking at the poor man, he said, �I will not share my lunch for a green leaf! Off with you, poor man, and leave a growing boy alone! Off, I say, or I shall send the dogs upon you!�
And that was the end of the chubby faced boy by the bridge above the river.
So this poor man walks on, and on, and on, and on � until he comes to a great Lord, clad with rich jewels and a silver circlet and a silk golden cape, sitting upon a milk white horse with a pepper grey tail. His hair blew about his face down to his shoulders, and his hand rested upon a golden hilt of his sword. Oh, yes, one would pass by him with his jaws fallen and his mouth wide open, for he was so bright and shiny, one would have to step away. Oh how some wished they could be him! Nothing was missing, for he had everything. Or, so one would think by a glance. But there was something the poor man did notice missing, and that was a light face, a smiling pair of lips, a generous heart, and loving eyes.
�Hello, sir!� The poor man greeted the rich lord.
�Is that how thee greet thy Lord Halivar, poor man!?� Raged the lord,
�Pardon, sir, for I did not notice you were clad with rich jewels and a silver circlet and a silk cape of golden, sitting upon a milk white horse with a pepper grey tail � or your golden sword, for that matter. For when I see, I do not see the outside.�
�What nonsense thou hast spoken!� Replied Lord Halivar,
�Nonsense to the outside, but to the inside? Aye, not so.� And the poor man tapped the golden sword and sheath by the waist of the rich lord with his walking stick. �Tell me, my lord,� Began the poor man, �Do you have anything you can give me, some food maybe? Only once slice of bread and two slices of thin cheese and a cup of cider?� One knows that is a silly question to ask a rich lord, for if there is a lord, he is bound to live in a palace with everything, and not one thing mission � except a light face, smiling lips, a generous heart and loving eyes.
�Certainly not, poor man! For dost thou not know � I am a weak traveling man who hath traveled many miles to reach this road, and here thou hast arrived after much toil and hardships. I cannot give thee any of the food of which thou hast heard asked for.� And that, my friend, was the rich lord�s reply.
�If that will be all, my friend, then off I be! To find another man who shall give of what I ask.� But before the poor man left, the rich lord reached down from where he sat on the milk white horse with the pepper grey tail, and grabbed the poor man�s shoulder.
�Wait, poor man! Thou shall give thee what thou hast asked for, if willing to do it for thirty gold coins.�
�I cannot give you any gold or silver coins, my lord, but I can give you this beautiful green leaf for what you will give me!� Answered the poor man. But the rich lord did nothing but spat at the poor man and galloped away�on his milk white horse with the pepper grey tail.
Ah, so you know what the poor man does next, for he walks on, and on, and on, and on� until he comes to a lake, where a man is fishing.
�Ho!� Cried the poor man as he reached the edge of the lake where the man sits fishing, �And what might ye be catching today, sir?�
�Oh, nothing, nothing, nothing at all, poor man.� Came the answer from the fisherman, �I am a poor husband, with five mouths to feed including myself! I have four poor children and a wife- I have no fish for you � no! No! No � nothing at all. They are biting terribly, terribly � terribly � I tell you.� But the poor man was not one to be fooled so easily. Oh yes, he knew of the bucket load of fish that hid (very badly hidden, might I add�) underneath a bush. He knew the fish were not biting terribly, and he knew the man was not married, for no golden ring placed itself upon his left hand. He knew.
�Very well, then. And what if I was to give you something very valuable for your fish you have caught?� The poor man asked. At this, the fisherman�s head rose and his eyes gleamed.
�Dear poor man! I should like thirty fine gold and silver pieces very much so!�
�Oh, but poor fisherman, I have no silver or gold or even a shiny stone! But I have this beautiful green leaf to give you, if you are willing to give me some of your fish.�
�A green leaf for these wonderful fish? Certainly not!!! Go on old man I do not want to see your face again! Begging for wonderful fish, for a green leaf, when I have five mouths to feed including my own-? Disappear old beggar!�
And at that, off he went! Just like that. So this poor man walks on, and on, and on, and on � until he comes to a quiet, dirty, dusty, lonely road, where a woman lies upon it, dressed in ragged clothing and no sleeves or coat. The poor man stopped, and looked at the poor woman lying upon the road, who could at any time have been run over by a wagon. So he helped her up and pulled her to the side of the road, her face as white as snow and her legs as weak as if wind blows on a strand of hair.
�Dear, dear�dear�dear�.kind� man�� She muttered weakly, �thank you�thank you��
�Dear poor woman, I am only too happy to have helped you! Here�� And the poor man wrapped his only cloak around her bare shoulders, �do not remove it. I would give you a home with me if I could, dear woman, with a warm bed and blankets and hot food, but you see, I have nothing. This is all I have to give.� And so he patted her shoulder and stood, stepping onto the road to find what he seeks, as he did before.
�Wait!� Came the soft voice of the woman on the ground. The poor man turned, to see her hand reaching for his. �Take this-� And she handed him her only stale crumb of bread. �You must be hungry. Your clothes are dirty and your hair is messy, and your cheeks are black. I have had my share, take it, and then you may return to your journey.�
�Because of your charity, of one who has nothing but this stale crumb of bread, dear woman, I will give you this beautiful green leaf. It will never die, never�� And he handed her a leaf from his pack, and she took it gratefully. �If you need anything, take this green leaf, and if you find one similar to it in the woods, hanging on a short brown tree, then make a wish, and it will come true. For now, take these,� He handed her another green leaf, �and keep them safe, and wish only for good things for yourself and others.� He patted the poor woman�s shoulder, and went to leave. �And remember,� he added, �it never dies.�

So this poor man walks on, and on, and on, and on � until he comes to a pretty tree, with its swaying leaves and wood branches.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Shwoop.
�Welcome back, dear poor man!� The bird sang along as it flew around the tree. �And, did you find what you sought? Did you find any food, dear, poor man?�
�Oh yes.� replied the man, �I found what I sought, and there is plenty food to go around.�

And until that day, my friend, that poor woman lying in the streets, is no longer in the mud, but in a little cabin with plenty of food, for she listened to the poor man�s words and bought only what she needed. No, she had no mansion and no large feasts with King�s and Quean�s, for there was only one King and Quean for her, and they kept watch over her until the end of her days.

As for King Ohnavi and the woman and the three children and a mother and father and the cat and old maid and the boy with the apples and the baker and the chubby boy and the Lord Halivar and the fisherman, well let me tell you, never had they seen the poor woman so happy in all theirs and her life. And, never did they see the face of the poor old beggar man again. They do not know what happened to him, or where he went, but all they knew was the light face of the poor woman, and their own guilty souls.

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Alrighty then. That's enough of my corny writing. God Bless you all, Pax Christi tibi!

In Christ, through Mary,

-T-