THE NEXT RIGHT THING

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THE NEXT RIGHT THING

To intentionally do the next right thing requires knowledge of the future. To do the next right thing guarantees that the next thing will be the wrong thing because the intention itself required a judgment call and it will have to withstand  judgment a second time by the person who made that call.

To do the next thing without human judgment requires faith and whether the next thing would be considered right or wrong by human standards is immaterial. The act had the right intentions and is our only responsibility by God’s standards.

Resisting the performance of doing the next thing regardless of the rightness thereof is to resist God.

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Lee Broom

LOVE, LOGIC AND MAXIMUM APPROVAL

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LOVE, LOGIC AND MAXIMUM APPROVAL

If I say “I love you very much” I must be mistaken for LOVE is UNCONDITIONAL (“very much” is a condition).

If I ask to be Loved I must be seeking mere approval for LOVE is unconditional. (I had to ask.)

If I accept the LOVE I acknowledge the source of that LOVE.

If I acknowledge the source of LOVE I acknowledge that THE LOVE was already there.

I accept THE LOVE and I’ll pass it on.

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Lee Broom

BROTHER FINCH AND THE FAMILY QUAIL

 

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BROTHER FINCH AND THE FAMILY QUAIL

Thump.

(I know that sound.)

Thump.

I replayed it in my head.

I turned to look through the sliding glass door leading to my patio.

Six months ago as an early spring increased the quail community outside my yard and the cactus wrens and mockers and squawkers, the rabbits and lizards repopulated themselves, I cleared my head of winter grey and focused again on my favorite time of year, Though I live in the desert the changing seasons continue to have its affect; this was a day of new beginnings.

I was having breakfast as I recall, not on the patio yet, the mornings were still a bit crisp, but fully engaged in the process. I was watching the social events taking place, watching it all from my breakfast table. I could hear a peacock from a block away, wondering if this was the noisy fellow who had recently been starting his morning rounds by splattering green gooey stuff on the hood of my Chevy truck. Not that I was an actual target understand, but he seemed to be fancying the date palm near my parking spot as his new locale for performing his morning toilet.

As I bit from one of the cinnamon rolls I had prepared the night before, I noticed one of the quail families out for their morning walk. As I reached for my camera I was noticed by at least two members of this group but their reactions were quite the opposite of each other. Mother, who was at the front, led her chicks into the safety of the oleanders. At exactly the same time the chick bringing up the rear of this procession turned to look my way. Curiosity won out over alarm and little Chickee Kid ran, no, sprinted the twenty feet from the perimeter of my yard to my patio. Scale speed would had to have been in the hundreds of miles per hour. Reaching the edge of the patio the four inch elevation slowed this little bird not at all. With the reflexes of a jungle cat our little scamp hopped upward and forward again without hesitation, continuing to bolt in my direction until he at last met his reflection in the patio door.

Thump.

About face.

Sprint back to Mother.

Disappear quickly beneath the oleanders.

All of this activity took mere seconds.

No, I did not take pictures.

But there is a video in my head and an audio recording of the moment when Baby hit the glass.

Thump.

I replayed it in my head.

I turned to look through the sliding glass door leading to my patio.

There, lying on its back was an adult male house finch.

I walked out to visit my careless neighbor.

I talked with this neighbor of mine; his feathers displayed a splash of red, coincidentally the color of blood.

I watched this fellow traveler as he shrugged his shoulders and died.

I planted him in the oleanders.

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L
ee Broom

THE TOLERANCE OF FRAYED COLLARS.

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THE TOLERANCE OF FRAYED COLLARS.

 
Are not those who warn of the dangers of resentment, often the  proponents  of the virtues of tolerance.

But what exactly is it that we are to tolerate; Minor annoyances;  Major annoyances?

Are not major annoyances those which were once considered minor? And was it not the trait of tolerance that kept the fire burning?

Question everything.

Including the answers.

And finally…

Be wary of aging scholars who keep alive the wisdom of the ages, whose  rocking chairs need oiling and whose collars are frayed.

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Lee Broom

AN OJIBWA PRAYER

 

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AN OJIBWA PRAYER

 

Grandfather,

look at our brokenness.

We know that in all creation

only the human family

has strayed from the sacred way.

We know that we are the ones

who are divided.

And we are the ones

who must come back together

to walk in the sacred way.

Grandfather,

Sacred One,

teach us love, compassion, honor

that we may heal the earth

and heal each other.

“Ojibwa Prayer” was composed by Dr. Art Solomon, an Ojibwa Elder from near Sudbury, Ontario.

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Lee Broom