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  • Today’s Democrats: Intolerance, Hatred and Cruelty are the Order of the Day

    Many Democrats have no intention of mending fences with those of us who did not vote for Hillary Clinton.  It’s obvious when we see their intolerance for people who do not subscribe to Leftist ideology.

    It’s running rampant in America. Democrats are teaching their children to hate the President and to shun other children whose parents voted for Donald Trump. Hatred and cruelty are everyday occurrences.

    I’ll start with an example of intolerance and hatred being taught to children by Democrats. Please watch this short video from Facebook:



    I’m sure I’m not the only person who finds this video disturbing. These Democrat parents are teaching their children to hate President Trump. Note the way the parents scream at the kids to “tear him apart!”

    They smile and cheer as their children rip this effigy disguised as a piñata limb from limb. After the Trump figure is ripped apart, the children are rewarded with candy.

    So, hatred and acts of simulated violence on a figure representing President Trump are rewarded by these Democrat zealots.

    Their children are innocent and are being used as pawns in a dangerous game.

    Now I have no idea how many Liberal Democrat parents are teaching their children to hate the President, (and, by default, anyone who voted for him), but I doubt this kind of incident is rare.

    My opinion comes from seeing young children at the various pussy marches that were held around the nation. Some of these kids were under 5, holding signs with messages of intolerance.

    If anyone believes this irresponsible parenting will end up benefitting the children involved, there’s a big bridge in Brooklyn I could sell you.

    This brings me to this past Sunday, where I ran into my dear friend at Mass.

    The gospel reading was Matthew 5: 38-48.

    38* “You have heard that it was said,x ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’39y But I say to you, offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on [your] right cheek, turn the other one to him as well.40If anyone wants to go to law with you over your tunic, hand him your cloak as well.41Should anyone press you into service for one mile,* go with him for two miles.z42Give to the one who asks of you, and do not turn your back on one who wants to borrow.a

    Love of Enemies.

    43b “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’c44But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you,45that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust.46For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Do not the tax collectors* do the same?47And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Do not the pagans do the same?*48So be perfect,* just as your heavenly Father is perfect.d

    One of the most difficult of Christ’s teachings for most people. The priest’s homily suggested that we ask God to help us in forgiving others, to pray for those who have wronged us, and to ask God to rain His blessings down upon them.

    Not an easy thing to do these days. We all have enemies. This is not conjecture.

    After Mass I greeted my friend, whom I met at church 8 years ago. We quickly became close during our work in the parish Pro Life ministry, and also community activism in opposing the Common Core curriculum being implemented at local schools. We are buddies, and she is my greatest friend in our parish. I love her.

    My friend suffered greatly at the hands of Leftist Democrat community agitators in her children’s school system because she refused to sit down and shut up about faulty texts and crappy Leftist ideological novels being taught as literature.

    For more on what happened please click here.


    After the hearing which other concerned parents were not permitted to attend, rumors began circulating that “some woman” was trying to ban books. The rumor was heard at the Bayard Taylor Library in Kennett Square. The rumor was also being spread in one of the New Garden polling places on election day, November 4th. People coming into the polling place to vote were told that someone was trying to “ban” books at Kennett High School. All of this talk of “banning” did the trick.

    On the evening of November 10th, my friend Angie went to the school board meeting alone. She had asked me to go with her, and I said no. I had no idea what was going to happen and neither did she. I’m pretty sure Angie’s husband did end up joining her at the meeting before it ended, but I wish I had gone. She could have used a friend.

    The room where the school board met that night was filled with adults and students wearing “We Read Banned Books” buttons. There was quite a large group. Angie told me she was sitting quietly and wondering what the hell was going on, since the vote was to decide whether the book should be kept under age restrictions. A group of about 5-6 kids sat nearby, along with a few parents. Angie decided to ask them why they were at the meeting. Following is the paraphrased conversation:

    Angie: Why are you all here?

    Students: Our teachers asked us to come, because some lady is trying to ban books in our library.

    Angie: Oh no…that’s not what’s going on. I’m the person who’s concerned about the book, but I didn’t ask for it to be banned. I’m just concerned about kids. Some kids may be too young to read what’s in the book, so we should make sure they can be talked to by someone like the counselor.”

    Students: What? You’re the lady?

    Angie: Yes. It’s me, but I don’t want to ban books.

    Students: We didn’t know. We were told by our teachers to come tonight to support the school because someone wanted to ban books. We didn’t know.


    Here’s more:


    The board whipped things up a bit more before they went on to other business. Following is a quote from board member Rudy Alphonso:

    “I think about the principles that our Founding Fathers laid ground for us (and) all the battles and all the people that have died over our 200-plus years to keep these fundamental freedoms in place and to allow us to have the choice whether or not we want to read something or not read something,” he said in his statement. “Banning this book, to me, would almost be like turning my back on all those hundreds of thousands of American veterans, men and women, who have died to allow us to keep those freedoms and not to have censorship. I see this attempt to ban this book as if we live in Nazi Germany. This is the United States of America. The Statue of Liberty rings for everyone.”

    This man and the other board members must have known that the book wasn’t leaving the school, yet he mentioned Nazi Germany. How unbelievably pathetic.


    So you see, Angie is not popular with many Democrats in her community. And now, because she is a Republican committee person for her township, and her neighbors know she supported President Trump, one of her children is being shunned by an “adult” neighbor.



    Virgin and Child


    After Mass on Sunday we went inside the multi-purpose chapel that was recently built at our parish church. Above is a statue that graces the chapel. I don’t know the title of the statue, but as you can see, the Blessed Virgin Mary and her Son are surrounded by children of many races and ethnicities.

    As Angie was relating the incident, we gazed at the statue. Here’s what happened.

    The neighborhood itself shows signs of displeasure with Trump. A mailbox is tied with a black ribbon, and there are other signs of dislike.

    Anyway, Angie related that her son, age 8, was playing in her yard with a neighbor’s child, and the child’s mother called him to come home, and not to play with his friend because “they” are mean people.

    *Note* – I have met the woman in question three times, at various parties at Angie’s house.

    Anyway, Angie’s 8 year old was upset at what was said, as any child would be. Then the following occurred.

    I don’t know if it was directly after the neighbor boy was told to get out of that yard or if it maybe happened later, at the bus stop or some other time, but the little boy approached Angie and said (paraphrase): I want to play here. I don’t think you are mean. But my mom says you are mean people and I can’t play with ___. (Angie’s son).

    Again, she told me this directly after we had listened to a priest speak of forgiving and praying for those who hurt us, while looking at a statue of Christ surrounded by children of differing ethnicities.

    It really was a strange feeling.


    I would like to know how the Democrat mom in question is any different than a white woman before Civil Rights who taught her children never to speak or play with a black child.

    Or how she is different from a German mother in 1932 teaching her children not to ever associate or play with a Jewish child.

    If anyone can explain the difference, please do so in the comments.

    I myself see no difference.  I have known this little boy for many years. He is a wonderful child with a big heart, yet he is shunned by a woman who used to eat in his home.

    This woman is a Democrat, and seemingly sees no irony in what she did. Democrats pride themselves on being tolerant and loving, yet she was cruel, intolerant and hateful to an 8-year- old boy.

    Again, for any Democrat who might be reading, please help me to understand why this, or the hatred in the above video, is acceptable in America today. I’ll wait.

    My opinion is that these children will grow up to be sad, guilt-ridden individuals, or perhaps hateful bullying thugs like the ones we see beating people and pepper spraying them for wearing a Trump hat.

    And now for my own reflections on the unfortunate fact that the Democrats are practicing intolerance and hatred.

    White Clay Creek, Chester County, PA


    Above is a branch of White Clay Creek near my home in Chester County, Pennsylvania. I run here in White Clay Creek Preserve.

    On Sunday afternoon I went running and snapped the above photo. Though not visible in the picture, the park was full of people. It was a beautiful day, and I saw many families walking together with their dogs, and also other runners and some trail bikers.

    As I was running I smiled and said hello to everyone who made eye contact, all the while wondering if they would hate me if they knew I voted for Trump.

    I have had similar experiences over the years while running, but they usually occurred when the park was almost deserted.

    I once got a strange feeling about a man who was walking his dog in the dead of winter while I was running in the bitter cold. I don’t know why, but the man seemed off. I got the feeling he might be out looking to hurt someone.

    He was there on and off whenever I went to a certain trail. Sometimes I saw him in the parking lot and took off down the road so he wouldn’t know which path I planned to take. Other times he was on the road but very close to the trail. He was always wearing a parka with a hood, and walking a little dog.

    When I saw him I was put in mind of the movie The Silence of Lambs. I have no idea why, but I always ran away as fast as I could.

    And then one day I came around a bend in the trail far away from the road. I was all alone in the bitter cold, running in an isolated place. This was 8 years ago.

    As I ran I wondered what to do. I prayed. I didn’t stop or turn around, for whatever reason.  I kept running right toward him, praying.

    And then out of nowhere came a tall, fit man, running directly toward me. He passed me as I was passing the guy with the dog.

    He came along out of the blue. I had never seen him before, and I never saw him again. And that was the last time I ever saw the man with the dog.

    Now you may say I’m imagining things, or I was paranoid, or any number of 21st Century notions. But I believe an Angel passed by at the very moment I need God’s help.

    After that, I began to carry pepper spray while running.

    And on Sunday I ran with my paper spray, smiling at people, half of whom were probably Democrats that might hate me for my beliefs, remembering what the priest had said. Pray for those who hurt you.

    It was surreal. And then I heard the sound of gunfire. People were target shooting off in the distance. The sound carried, and everyone on the trail could hear the shots.

    It went on for the remainder of my run. It was like a balm. I was comforted. Because again, everyone in the park could hear it. If any far Leftists like the ones described above were walking along wondering who voted for who in that park, they were surely put on notice.

    We know many Democrats hate us.They tell us in many ways everyday, in social media comments, in acts of violence at riots, and in their obstruction and slander of Trump and every person he appoints to his cabinet.

    And they know we know. But they also know that as a group we possess the great equalizer.

    Again, it’s comforting to have the protection afforded by the 2nd Amendment.

    The Democrats who teach their children to hate us would do well to teach them about our right to bear arms while they instruct them on shunning, bullying and hating other children. It might be helpful to the children at some point down the road.


    Related Posts:

    The Unhinged Left ~ Immigration Riots



    Shameless Self Promotional Plug

    Below is a one minute ad for book two in my series. Check it out, and see what you think. A free preview of the Notice is available at the top right. 🙂

  • Spring Cleaning

    My husband took a week off from work so we can get our house into shape. 

    Well, not only the house, but cars, motorcycle and other things. For the past few months we’ve been working on renovating and redecorating certain rooms of our home. It’s a work in progress, and won’t be complete for another year.

    The first thing we did was turn our old bathroom into a powder room by removing the shower stall. (It was approximately the size of a coffin, and I’m glad it’s gone). The powder room is beautiful, making up for the fact that I have to go all the way upstairs for a shower now, until we finally finish the home makeover with a new master bath.

    We changed out two rooms. Off the kitchen, we had a sitting area with a tiny TV inside an antique sideboard. Since we don’t watch much TV, this was the perfect set up. We could catch the weather in the morning, and go downstairs to watch Netflix in the evenings.

    Now our dining room furniture occupies the space formerly known as a sitting room, and the room we used as a dining room is a formal living room.

    A new master bedroom is next on the list, before the master bath. It’s quite a project, so my husband took this week to finish some painting and other needed jobs, like changing the oil in his Harley-Davidson and my car, and installing shocks or something. Plus, getting some seedlings ready for the garden.

    I’m getting ready for Easter, and a baby shower for my son & daughter-in-law, whose little boy was born 10 weeks early. The baby is doing well in the NICU, and has already gained back all the weight he lost after birth, plus 3 ounces 🙂

    So, there is spring cleaning going on. I’ve been washing all my quilts as I take them off the walls. Today I washed a few I hadn’t gotten to.


    A few of my quilts. I made all three. The Double Irish Chain quilt was my first. The Sunbonnet Girls were hand appliquéd and embroidered, using 1930s reproduction fabric. The other quilt is a Monkey Wrench or Churn Dash pattern which I made for my daughter, also using reproduction fabrics.


    I have always enjoyed hanging out my laundry. I take after my mother in this respect. (She lives next door and we share a clothesline). Mom has been hanging her laundry since she was married in 1956, and probably for much longer. She  loves hanging the laundry, and I do, too.

    I barely use a clothes dryer. I hang everything outside year round, unless the cold is too bitter or the snow is too deep. On those days I use the dryer, or a clothes rack. My mother hangs her clothes in her basement.

    Mom has a dryer now, but we never had one when I was growing up. This led to certain issues at times. During the winter, our jeans didn’t always get dry overnight on the basement clothesline, so every once in a while, my sister and I would go to school wearing damp jeans. Brrr.

    Cleaning the house is a pain, but after it’s finished, I always feel better.


    A comment on one of my recent posts stated that it was “all over the place,” and while it wasn’t true of that post, its seems it is with this post. Sometimes my mind needs a spring cleaning as well.

    Not really a cleaning; there’s nothing dirty there, or at least not that I know of. I just need some down time, or a change, to get myself out of the winter blues. This winter wasn’t bad weather-wise, in fact it was one of the best, but so many things have happened that I find I need to clear my head. If this post seems to be rambling, its because I’ve been under a lot of stress. Writing is therapy.

    Today I went running, which is also serious therapy.

    white clay
    Scenes from my run in White Clay Creek Preserve, here in Southern Chester Co., PA. The barn, top right, is not in the park, but on a road nearby.


    While running, I usually pray the Rosary and then listen to music. Today I prayed the Rosary and the Divine Mercy Chaplet, and then ran without the music for awhile, praying for my little grandson, and others who came to mind.

    It’s a terrible thing to see friends so torn up about the candidates for president. I hate the division. This time in America seems the worst in my lifetime, and I am so concerned that I find I must just let go and let God, or else worry myself sick.

    I have been praying for God to send us a leader every day for months now. I find that asking and then saying “Your will be done,” takes away my anxiety. I don’t know what His answer will be, but I do trust that whatever happens, it will be for my good, the good of my loved ones, and the good of everyone who follows Him.

    Trust in the Lord with all your heart
        and lean not on your own understanding;
    in all your ways submit to him,
        and he will make your paths straight.

    Proverbs 3: 5-6

    This verse has helped me tremendously. Any scripture regarding trust is a help to me, since I have spent parts of the past 7 years in a fog of crippling fear.

    Fear of Obamacare (which my family was blessed to have escaped), fear of my religious freedom being yanked away by the Democrats and their HHS mandate, fear of unemployment as my husbands job was outsourced, and when the contract was broken, watching him be forced to reapply for the same job he had been doing for over 20 years, seeing my sister struggle with unemployment, and the list goes on.

    The past 8 years have been a train wreck for many Americans. For me it culminated when I watched the man occupying the White House standing with his hand on his heart in front of a mural of Che Guevara in Cuba, alongside Fidel Castro’s brother.

    What a colossal slap in the face to all of us. And then the news of another terror attack in Europe. It’s too much, but I suppose I should get ready for more. Obama has almost a full year to further degrade us.

    I didn’t expect him to fly home from Cuba the way any other President would; I knew he would ever do that. I was sort of surprised to see him dancing the Tango in Argentina, though. Seems he can always go lower.

    The only consolation is that he will be gone next January. I hope God answers my prayers, and the the prayers of millions of other Americans who have suffered so much, and have been asking for a leader. We need a leader. We don’t need someone who believes it’s “her turn.”
    For those who vote with their vaginas, I hope you will not have to endure what many of us have had to endure. Even if some of your social issues do not progress in the way to which you have become accustomed, (my way or the highway) at least you will be safer with a strong Military, and counterterrorism measures put in place. So there will be an upside for you, as well as for the rest of us.

    Many prayers for the people of Brussels. I’m very sorry for what happened. America is weeping right along with you.

    Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
    and let perpetual light shine upon them.
    May the souls of the faithful departed,
    through the mercy of God, rest in peace.


  • A Crown instead of Ashes

    I woke up this morning feeling the same dread I’ve felt every January for the past 8 years. Even though I’ve limited my news intake, and chose not to watch last night’s SOTU address, I found myself looking at news about it this morning. To see that so many lies were told is depressing. That’s where the ashes come in.


    Depression, dread, worry about the future, and seeing memes stating that the economy is stronger than it was 8 years ago all cause me to be downcast. After all, my family has struggled terribly. There are no jobs for people who need to support a family. I’ve seen numerous family members be laid off, and watched as my own husband narrowly escaped the ax of downsizing that has become just a part of life for working people. I’ve watched my sister in her struggle to find work, after losing her job in a field for which she was well qualified, and that paid enough to supplement her husband’s income. This kept the family going. Now the good jobs are gone. Who am I to believe? The man who lies every time he moves his lips, or my own eyes?

    The jobs went away, and who knows if they’ll ever be back. This is our reality, no matter the President’s constant gas lighting. Truth is truth.

    However, I have chosen to Trust. This is my word for 2016: Trust. Trust in God. Still, my heart was heavy. And then I opened my email. A friend had written. She had mentioned a scripture that could be applied to depression, and wrote that she had finally found it.


    …to bestow on them a crown of beauty
        instead of ashes,
    the oil of joy
        instead of mourning,
    and a garment of praise
        instead of a spirit of despair.
    They will be called oaks of righteousness,
        a planting of the Lord
        for the display of his splendor.

    Isaiah 61:3

    I don’t believe in coincidences. 

    My friend, whom I have only recently met, took time out of her busy life to search for a scripture she knew would help me. She is filled with God’s light, and He worked through her today. I opened the email, and my outlook has changed. God is at work no matter my mood.

    Why should I be downcast and wearing ugly ashes around? I’m not the one who lies, and pokes and prods and hurts others, all the while patting himself on the back. So why should I mourn?

    I’m not doing it. The spirit of despair is out the window. I’ll place an invisible crown of beauty on my head, and allow the oil of joy to run over me today. God is in control.He has more power than any politician. And I am his beloved child.


    2016 Goals


  • Resolutions, or Goals?

    New Year’s resolutions usually don’t work out for me. Then I feel guilty that I didn’t keep them, so I usually set myself goals instead.


    I have many goals for 2016. I want to advance in health and fitness, and maybe, this summer after book three is published, I may even train for another half marathon. I want to connect with more readers, and make book 3 my best ever. I want to worry less and pray more, and give more to others. I want to be a good daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, sister, aunt and friend. But all of these and more can be encompassed in just one word: Trust. So this year’s main goal is to focus on the word trust. Trust in God.


    Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. ~ Proverbs 3:5


    Focusing on one word was a suggestion made in the Bible Study/Health & Wellness group at my parish church. And for me this year’s word can only be “Trust.”

    I’m working diligently on book 3 in my series. At times I worry about deadlines and other book related matters, and sometimes I become overwhelmed. But connecting with God, and understanding—really knowing and understanding—that He is in absolute control, and that whatever happens is His will, takes the worry away.

    So my goal is simply to trust. This can be applied to many different situations. When worry about what the future holds tries to creep in, I can simply pray the following:


    Jesus, I trust in You.


    None of us knows what the future holds, for ourselves, our families and our friends. Sometimes not knowing can cause anxiety. But that isn’t what Christ wants for us. He wants us to live IN Him. He wants to live in our hearts. And by reading his word, praying, and allowing Him to help us through any problems that crop up, we will find that we worry less and trust more. In any situation, I can think of the word trust, and and know that God will help me through. This is my goal for 2016. To trust.


    Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. ~ John 14:1


    I can do all things through Christ

  • Happy Thanksgiving

    Tomorrow we celebrate a beloved American holiday, Thanksgiving.


    All day today I’ve been remembering what I’m grateful for. There are so many things! A loving husband and family, adorable grandchildren, a roof over my head, enough to eat, and my friends near and far. I’m thankful for music, the ability to run and exercise to keep fit, and for good health. I’m thankful to live in a free country where I can write the books I choose to write and post the blogs I choose to post. I’m very grateful that I’m free to worship as a Roman Catholic, a faith I love.

    I can never thank God enough for all that He’s given me. I can only be humble, and a gracious receiver of His gifts. Encompassing all is His redemption of me by His death on the Cross, something I do not deserve, and of which I am not worthy.

    Yet He did it anyway.

    There’s really nothing more to say.

    Catholic Church Crucifix

    Thank you, dear Jesus, for everything.

    Wishing family, friends and readers everywhere a very Blessed and Happy Thanksgiving.

    images copy 21


  • 15 Favorite Classic Rock Halloween Songs

    If you’re a habitual reader of this blog, you may know that I’m a Classic Rock fan. I thought it would be fun to choose some favorite songs that put me in a dark or spooky mood.

    I’ve mentioned before that my husband and I both adore Classic Rock. He’s been a serious fan since the early 1970s, and I’m not far behind him.

    Agents Of Fortune
    Blue Oyster Cult, Agents Of Fortune


    The above photo was taken this morning. The pictured album, Blue Oyster Cult’s Agents of Fortune, was purchased by my husband when he was 17, and kept carefully through all the years since then. So of course we both have our favorite spooky or dark songs. I’m going to list them here, in order of my preference.

    Disclaimer: I am not a particular fan of Ozzy Osbourn, or the group Black Sabbath, though I was as a teen. But their music fits the Halloween theme, and I do admit the group was talented, so one of their songs is included.

    Disclaimer 2: When it comes to music, I care zero for politics. There are songs here from both ends of the political spectrum and some in between. For my own peace of mind, music must be separated from the antics of the artists unless, of course, they commit actual treason. And I know of no American artist that has actually been treasonous, unless draft dodging is considered treason. With regard to the Vietnam conflict, my opinion is simply this: I have more love, respect and gratitude to the GIs who went than I can possibly express in words.

    Not all of the songs listed have traditional Halloween style horror themes. Some are just extremely sad, and others are my own personal vision of horrors that others may not even consider worth thinking about. So, here goes:

    15. Sympathy For The Devil ~ The Rolling Stones

    The above lyrics explain everything.


    14. Riders On The Storm ~ The Doors

    My thoughts on Jim Morrison: A very sad and disturbed individual. I make zero judgements; perhaps he was suffering from depression. His end was sad, but not unexpected. His drug use killed him, like so many other talents.


    13. Welcome To My Nightmare ~ Alice Cooper


    I like the title track to this album, though the album itself is rather disturbing.


    12. The Wizard ~ Black Sabbath

    One of Black Sabbath’s better songs. Reminds me of a ghost train, and the lyrics aren’t ghoulish.

    Misty morning,clouds in the sky
    without warning, the wizard walks by
    casting his shadow,weaving his spell
    funny clothes,twinkling bells
    never talking…just keeps walking…spreading his magic

    Evil powers disappear
    demons worry when the wizard is near
    he turns tears into joy
    everyone’s happy when the wizard walks by
    never talking…just keeps walking…spreading his magic

    Sun is shining,clouds have gone by
    all the people,give a happy sigh
    he has passed by,given his sign
    left all the people,feeling so fine
    never talking…just keeps walking…spreading his magic


    11. Stranglehold ~ Ted Nugent

    The name says it all…


    Mother Should I Trust The Government


    10. The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald ~ Gordon Lightfoot

    Sad and eerie true story. How must those men have felt? May they rest in eternal peace.

    The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
    Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
    The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
    When the skies of November turn gloomy
    With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
    Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
    That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
    When the gales of November came early

    The ship was the pride of the American side
    Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
    As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
    With a crew and good captain well seasoned
    Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
    When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
    Then later that night when the ship’s bell rang
    Could it be the north wind they’d been feelin’?

    The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
    When the wave broke over the railing
    And every man knew, as the captain did too
    ‘Twas the witch of November come stealin’
    The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
    When the gales of November came slashin’
    When afternoon came it was freezing rain
    In the face of a hurricane west wind

    When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck
    Sayin’ “Fellas, it’s too rough to feed ya”
    At seven PM a main hatchway caved in
    He said, “Fellas, it’s been good to know ya”
    The captain wired in he had water comin’ in
    And the good ship and crew was in peril
    And later that night when his lights went out of sight
    Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

    Does anyone know where the love of God goes
    When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
    The searchers all say they’d have made Whitefish Bay
    If they’d put fifteen more miles behind her
    They might have split up or they might have capsized
    They may have broke deep and took water
    And all that remains is the faces and the names
    Of the wives and the sons and the daughters

    Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
    In the rooms of her ice-water mansion
    Old Michigan steams like a young man’s dreams
    The islands and bays are for sportsmen
    And farther below, Lake Ontario
    Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
    And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
    With the gales of November remembered

    In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
    In the Maritime Sailors’ Cathedral
    The church bell chimed ’til it rang twenty-nine times
    For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald
    The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
    Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
    Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
    When the gales of November come early




    9. Witchy Woman ~ The Eagles

    Cool, witchy song.


    8. Frankenstein ~ Edgar Winter Group

    Great use of organ, synthesizers, guitar, saxophone and percussion in this instrumental.


    7. Spooky ~ Atlanta Rhythm Section

    Fun song about love.


    6. Hotel California ~ The Eagles

    This is a deep and dark song. I’ve loved it since I was 15 years old. The lyrics are laden with meaning.

    Mirrors on the ceiling,
    The pink champagne on ice
    And she said “We are all just prisoners here of our own device”
    And in the master’s chambers,
    They gathered for the feast
    They stab it with their steely knives,
    But they just can’t kill the beast

    Last thing I remember, I was
    Running for the door
    I had to find the passage back
    To the place I was before
    “Relax, ” said the night man,
    “We are programmed to receive.
    You can check-out any time you like,
    But you can never leave.”


    5. Thriller ~ Michael Jackson

    Though not Classic Rock, I couldn’t leave this one out. It brings back memories of better times.


    4. I Put A Spell On You ~ Creedence Clearwater Revival

    Simply put, great music. Bluesy and dark toned.


    3. Ghost Riders In The Sky ~ Stan Jones ~ Performed by The Outlaws

    Creepy presentation of this song.


    2. Rhiannon ~ Fleetwood Mac

    When introducing this song in the video above, Stevie Nicks says: “This is a song about an old Welsh Witch.” According to Celtic legend, the goddess Rhiannon rode a white horse and traveled with three birds that had healing powers. The birds appear in various Celtic symbols.

    “It wasn’t until 1978 that I found out about (Welsh medieval prose tales) Mabinogion and that Branwen and Rhiannon are in there too, and that Rhiannon wasn’t a witch at all; she was a mythological queen. But my story was definitely written about a celestial being, I didn’t know who Rhiannon was, exactly, but I knew she was not of this world.” ~ Stevie Nicks

    This song is from Fleetwood Mac’s album, Rumors, which has been a favorite of mine since its release in 1975. Read more about Rhiannon’s origins in Medieval Welsh mythology here.



    I don’t look at this as a song about death or as something to be afraid of. But is does bring to mind the Grim Reaper.

    All our times have come
    Here but now they’re gone
    Seasons don’t fear the reaper
    Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain… we can be like they are
    Come on baby… don’t fear the reaper
    Baby take my hand… don’t fear the reaper
    We’ll be able to fly… don’t fear the reaper
    Baby I’m your man…

    La la la la la
    La la la la la

    Valentine is done
    Here but now they’re gone
    Romeo and Juliet
    Are together in eternity… Romeo and Juliet
    40, 000 men and women everyday… Like Romeo and Juliet
    40, 000 men and women everyday… Redefine happiness
    Another 40, 000 coming everyday… We can be like they are
    Come on baby… don’t fear the reaper
    Baby take my hand… don’t fear the reaper
    We’ll be able to fly… don’t fear the reaper
    Baby I’m your man…

    La la la la la
    La la la la la

    Love of two is one
    Here but now they’re gone
    Came the last night of sadness
    And it was clear she couldn’t go on
    Then the door was open and the wind appeared
    The candles blew and then disappeared
    The curtains flew and then he appeared… saying don’t be afraid
    Come on baby… and she had no fear
    And she ran to him… then they started to fly
    They looked backward and said goodbye… she had become like they are
    She had taken his hand… she had become like they are
    Come on baby… don’t fear the reaper.


    So, you see, death is not to be feared. Seasons don’t fear it; the seasons change, and the leaves, after showing their greatest glory in the fall, die and turn brown on the ground.  But spring always arrives again. It’s a sign of hope, not a sign of fear or death. The wind and the sun and the rain will always return, even if they leave our human sight and perception for a time.

    As a Roman Catholic I put my complete faith in Christ. He, and only He will choose the time I leave this earth. And He, Christ, is Love. So do not fear death, because death in Christ is Everlasting Life.

    As the fun of Halloween turns into the seeming darkness of November, remember this. 


    Halloween is the eve of the Feast of All Saints. 

    So here’s one more video, The Litany of The Saints. May all the Saints in Heaven pray for us here on earth.



  • U.S. House Votes to Defund Planned Parenthood ~ An Answered Prayer

    The U.S. House of Representatives voted to defund Planned Parenthood on Friday. I’m rejoicing, since this is an answer to my prayers.


    All pertinent information on the reason Planned Parenthood must be defunded, the legislation, and the vote itself, including a breakdown of votes along party lines can be found here.


    I understand that some Americans disagree, and believe Planned Parenthood should continue getting taxpayer funding. They will eventually lose the fight though, because a majority of Americans simply can’t stomach what goes on in the abortion business. People know that Planned Parenthood has committed crimes against humanity on par with those committed during the III Reich. Since we are, for the most part, decent human beings who abhor the death and destruction of innocent unborn babies and the sale of their body parts to labs for use in questionable experiments such as humanizing mice, Planned Parenthood will be defunded at some point. It may take awhile, but it will happen.  I hope the people who fight FOR Planned Parenthood’s continued funding  will heal after their ultimate loss. I will continue to pray for all involved in this darkness.

    Of course, Friday’s vote must pass the Senate, and then be signed into law by President Obama. This is unlikely occurrence; Obama will probably veto any such legislation that lands on his desk, even if the bill passes the Senate. Obama’s support of the Planned Parenthood death machine is common knowledge for people who keep up with such things, so I don’t expect that PP will be defunded during his Presidency. Still, this is a first step.

    And again, it’s an answer to my prayer.

    I’ve been praying for the unborn and respect for all human life every day for many years. I understand that God works in His own time, not ours, and so, we must continue to pray. However, I have a deep faith that my prayers will eventually be answered.

    Christ and His Mother

    I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. ~ Philippians 4: 13.

    prolife photo

    Please continue to pray for a deeper respect for all human life, from conception to natural death.

    Until recently, America always protected life. It was simply unthinkable for Americans to condone such brutality and disrespect of humanity, as evidenced by our role in defeating Hitler and liberating his death camps. We must go back to being a country known for compassion, a country that respects all human life.  Some American citizens and many elected to positions of supposed “leadership” have lost this. They are a shrinking minority. As news of the atrocities continues to trickle out, more and more Americans are turning away from Planned Parenthood and the culture of death. We will eventually overcome this loss and return to our former role as people of decency, generosity, bravery compassion, empathy, and love.

    Jesus Christ

    Thanks be to God, for answered prayers.

  • Depression, Anxiety and Loss of Light

    It’s fall again. A beautiful season no doubt, but with it comes a loss of light. Shorter days and longer nights affect me in ways that others might not understand. This is because I suffer from Clinical Depression and Anxiety.

    My online friend Matthew Bowman, of Novel Ninja and The Catholic Geeks, wrote the absolute best description of depression I’ve ever read. I’ve felt much the same throughout my life, for as long as I can remember. Even when I was a very small child.

    Depression is more than just sadness. It’s not something that can be cured with enforced cheerfulness. It’s not just feeling down in the dumps. It’s not even that “feelings of sadness for no apparent reason” definition you’ll see pop up every so often.

    That’s something that I find we Catholics can’t get, even though we should. Not because we’re somehow better than others; no, most people don’t get more than the slightest idea without experiencing it, and Catholics are no exception. What I mean is that our faith is built around the idea of redemptive suffering, and yet it’s so very hard for us to understand that depression really is suffering. It is a pain of the soul no less real, no less crippling, than a broken and shattered body.

    And yet, when I picked up a book that promised to be a Catholic manual on dealing with depression, I found it was the same as most of the armchair Christian-psychology stuff I would normally get. “Give your suffering to God.” “Offer it up.” “Let Christ into your life.”

    I know they mean well, but depression isn’t mere sadness. It is isolation. It is the pervasive feeling that you are alone, even though you see others around you. That you are screaming in pain, but no one can see anything wrong with you.


    The Scream, by Edvard Munch
    The Scream

    I’ve felt that smothering darkness, seemingly a murkiness that weighs down heavily. It’s like an invisible yet opaque ceiling. You can’t get through it, or find your way out from under it because it just hovers, seemingly without boundaries. The sunshine, though you see it, and perhaps even feel it, makes no impression on your mind, which feels nothing.

    Even in a room full of people, I sometimes feel completely alone, unless they are my family who somewhat understand, since some of them suffer from depression, too.

    See this poem by Edvard Munch, written about his painting, “The Scream.”

    I was walking along the road with two friends – the sun was setting – suddenly the sky turned blood red – I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence – there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city – my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety – and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature.[9]

    You may be screaming in pain, but like Matthew wrote, no one can see anything wrong with you. It’s almost the same with Anxiety. Here’s an article that describes the way friends see people with anxiety.

    You’ve probably noticed my nervous behaviors: Bailing on plans last minute. Making excuses to stay at home. Chewed nails and sudden crying. Shortness of breath, restlessness, fearing new situations, the inability to go to places alone and panic attacks.

    Though my depression/anxiety is under control for the most part, due to a doctor who listens and works with me, I still have periodic episodes, one of which is happening now, as I write this.

    Too many things have happened this past week. Some are small things that should upset no one, such as a darling and perfectly adorable grandson going through the terrible twos, who snaps and shrieks when looked at. Such a thing is funny, and I laugh accordingly, but my senses weren’t made for such overload. After two days, the shrieks seemed as loud as a fire siren to me.

    Another was watching my beloved granddaughter be shunned at a playground. Such a thing happens to every child, and she forgot about it within a few minutes. Why then, does it stay with me? Why do I look at the future and see other such scenarios in store for this child, whom I love with all my heart? Why must I borrow trouble?

    Still other contributors were news stories. These I have no control over, and I sometimes pay zero attention because the news is terribly depressing in and of itself, on many fronts and for many reasons. However, it’s not in my nature to be an ostrich. I have to keep up with current events.

    When depression and anxiety hit at the same time, the results are, in a word, crippling. Last night I couldn’t sleep, and today I’ve done nothing but sleep and worry. This should be a happy day, because my husband has a week’s vacation, and we plan to go to the beach for one last visit this year. But instead I feel down in the dumps, so much so that I can’t seem to do anything I need to do in order to get ready to go. The house must be cleaned and the clothes must be packed, yet here I sit with a tension headache and a nervous stomach, blogging about my paralysis. I am missing a going away party for friends because of this episode.

    I didn’t even go to Mass this morning. That’s truly upsetting, because my illness isn’t physical. Even though my head was painful and cloudy and I was fatigued and worried, I could have dragged my butt into the car and driven to Mass. I hate missing Mass. I feel bad about it because I slept my anxious morning away instead of going to visit God. But it’s too late now. I’m watching Pope Francis celebrate Mass on TV instead. I will go to confession soon, and be absolved of the sin of missing Mass.

    Catholic Church

    My depression and anxiety comes through in my books at times. In the following passage from page 147 of The Notice, protagonist Jason descends into the depths of a crippling depression. The scene takes place in a chapel, where Jason goes to pray in adoration.

    One more time, from the depths of the dark pit I’d fallen into, I reached up toward the Light. My hands reached up and I tried to grip it, but there was no way. The deception was so slick, so dark, so devoid of anything other than despair, that everything but a tiny pinpoint seemed to slip away as I cried out in my heart: God? I know you’re there.

    I could write such a scene because I’m intimately familiar with it. I’ve slipped into such depths more than once. The worst such episode occurred in 1998. It took me six months to come out of it completely.

    Again, it’s a feeling of being alone in a roomful of people, who say words and speak of things you can’t understand, even though they are common knowledge. You just smile on the outside and nod, while feeling empty. It’s hard to put on an act sometimes. It takes amazing effort, so when I’m in the grip of such an episode I stay home if possible.

    Of course this isn’t  always my life. My life has gotten easier over the summer, since a med switch, and these episodes are fewer now. Today’s was just particularly painful.

    Please, if you ever feel depressed, DON’T hide it! Get to a doctor. Help is available. It’s a real illness, not just “all in your head.”

    Music can also help. Listening, even if you can’t actually feel anything does help. I’m going to end with a song, one which fits the mood of this post. While it should be happy and hopeful, to me it sometimes seems exclusive, one to be enjoyed only by certain people, cliques who call themselves tramps.

    Again, this is part of my illness. And also again, it’s not. Just because I suffer from depression, doesn’t mean what I feel is wrong. It’s not. It has to do with people and the way they treat others, those who are different. The song speaks of all kinds of people who are welcome on a train to a Land of Hope and Dreams.

    Well, big wheels roll through fields where sunlight streams
    Oh, meet me in a land of hope and dreams

    Well, this train carries saints and sinners
    This train carries losers and winners
    This train carries whores and gamblers
    This train carries lost souls

    I said, this train, dreams will not be thwarted
    This train, faith will be rewarded
    This train, hear the steel wheels singing
    This train, bells of freedom ringing.

    Sounds pretty cool, right? Everyone’s welcome. Get on board.

    But again… not. Maybe Springsteen really means it when he sings those words, but his followers, the ones who make pilgrimages to his shows, sometimes over 100 or more in a lifetime? Not so much. They’re sort of exclusive, a bit like the two nasty little girls who ran away from my granddaughter on the playground, and whispered behind their hands as they watched her look for them.

    I used to frequent Springsteen Fan pages on Facebook before the 2012 election, because I found in Facebook a way to connect with people who enjoyed the same things I did.  But I never felt like I belonged, because most of the people who call themselves his biggest fans do not have any use for people with a different political ideology.

    This isn’t a symptom of depression, it’s merely a clique in action. They just assumed you agreed when people of my ideology were disparaged and slandered. If your opinion differed, you were smacked down immediately and with precision. That’s just the way it was, so I stopped following such forums for good after a particularly nasty exchange, in which Leftists informed me in a roundabout way that people like me weren’t welcome on the train to the Land of Hope and Dreams.

    I was called a liar because I differed on their interpretation of Benghazi. Then I was informed that nobody but Liberals should even be commenting, because Springsteen himself is a Liberal. So who the hell was I to intrude? Get the hell out of here, you don’t belong here.

    Then I read comments suggesting that anyone who doesn’t believe exactly as these paragons of love believe is nothing but selfish, unwilling to give to the poor, a racist who wants to take away the rights of others, etc. So I ventured one last comment, asking whether there was room for anyone who might be a Conservative on the train.

    The answer was silence.


    Pope Francis‘ Mass is over now. He has brought a message of hope and light and love and inclusion to America.

    The Pope is speaking to another group now, with words about the love of God. I listen and try to let the words about caring for others and being joyful in Christ wash over me. I listen to words about Mary, to whom I am devoted. I listen to him asking God to bless America, and I know I will be able to listen or read his words tomorrow, when no doubt they will make me feel something. I shed some tears as Pope Francis exits this gathering, stooping to bless and smile at people and children in wheelchairs, and hoping that others are watching and listening and taking his words to heart.

    I’m going to eat something now, since all I’ve managed to swallow today were goldfish crackers and a couple of graham crackers. Then I’m going to clean my house.

    I will feel better tomorrow.

  • Crushed By Comedy

    Yesterday I saw the trailer for ABC Family’s (Disney), new sitcom, The Real O’Neals. (Please click link to watch. For added context, read the comments on You Tube.)

    Now, if you watched, you will know what I am about to discuss. So right off the bat, I’ll say this: If you’re reading this, and you’re one of those people who think “Christians & Catholics are way too sensitive. They’re always claiming they’re persecuted, when they’re the ones who are always persecuting other groups,” here’s a warning:  I’m going to write my thoughts here. If you typically laugh when religions are mocked, this probably isn’t the best place for you, unless you have a thick skin.


    I intend to write TO the people I’ve just described, you understand. I’m just trying to minimize any hurt I might inflict on the folks who might be offended at the following post. If you can’t take what you love to dish out, you might want to quit reading this. Go put your jammies on and get your mom to make you a cup of cocoa instead.

    I’ve given you fair warning.

    First, a few photos:  My Rosary was given to me as a birthday gift by my sister and her family about ten years ago.  It’s a big part of my life. At one point in my life I prayed it every single day without fail. These days I don’t always manage to say it every day. Last night, after  watching this sitcom trailer, I immediately turned to this prayer, though, for comfort.

    My Rosary. I try to pray it everyday. Sometimes I miss a day.


    (My statue of Mary, the Mother of Jesus, is in the dining room of my home. She is not, nor has she ever been perched above my toilet.)


    My Statue of Mary, Mother Of Jesus.




    Above  is the china cabinet in my dining room. The photo of the little girls in the white dress is me. It was taken on the day of my First Holy Communion.

    Inside the homes of my mother and sister are similar statues and photos, along with crucifixes, Bibles and Catholic reading material. So, In at least three families in America (probably more, but these are the homes that I frequent) the Virgin Mary is not placed in the room where people go to take a shit. Who knew?

    When my friends and I do charity work in our church, we never keep the money. (Just so ya know.) There are at least a few Catholics who actually collect money and other supplies for the needy, and then ……actually GIVE THE COLLECTION TO THOSE IT IS INTENDED FOR. Now I know this may be difficult for some people to believe. After all, ABC and Disney would NEVER lie! They made a sitcom out of the goodness of their hearts to inform non Catholics about the way Catholics conduct their affairs at home, at work, and at church.

    However, before you sit down to enjoy family time with your children while watching The Real O’Neal’s, you might want to say, (to yourself only, of course): “I seriously doubt it, because I get all my informashun about the fools who believe in Jeeezus from TV shows, but there may be a few Catholics who don’t act like the O’Neals. I mean, even a broken clock is right twice a day. Maybe they’re all not like that.”

    Now, please. I don’t mean that you faithful folks who learn everything you know about religious people from the boob tube should mention this to your children. Never, ever do that! They are getting their education on Catholicism in an entertaining and fun way. Best that they never consider that Christians might actually be decent people. That would be heretical. Don’t do it!

    You must sit with them in your living room, and laugh when the laugh track prompts you. That way, your kids can learn the truth without you having to say a word about what you know: That Catholics are all slimy hateful fools who know nothing about compassion or acceptance of others. You, as parents, are being given a gift by Disney. Don’t blow it! Even if you know of a Catholic here and there who acts in the exact opposite way than that of the O’Neals, do not tell your children. They need to know what’s what. Make sure you start them young. Progress, you know…

    Okay. Enough snark. Now I will admit my true feelings. Ever since I watched that trailer, I have felt beaten and crushed. Not physically, of course. Only mentally. I was terribly upset after watching it. I almost cried. I slept last night, only because I took a sleeping pill. In fact, I will admit that I am crying, right now. This is my blog. I pay a fee for my website and blog, and this is what I decided to write about.

    Following is the creator of this sitcom, Dan Savage, an anti-bullying advocate, speaking to a group of high schoolers. Please watch.


    The girl who walked out of the auditorium crying reminds me of me. I simply can’t help myself. It’s difficult to watch your entire life and what you believe be trashed in a hateful manner by someone claiming to be an expert on the damages bullying can do. Especially when the expert bullies others, wishing them to be stricken with cancer, and then admits that he, himself engaged in bullying.

    I refuse to sign a petition demanding The Real O’Neals show be cancelled, though. This is because I know that there’s another one lurking in the mind of some sadistic hater just waiting in the wings. This is going to get worse before it gets better, if it ever does.

    Christ tells us to love and pray for our enemies:



    However, I hope He’ll for give me if I put it off until tomorrow. I already put it off until today, but I simply cannot bring myself to say a prayer for Dan Savage and the people who created this sitcom. I’ll try again tomorrow. Perhaps, at Mass this evening, I will look at the beautiful stained glass windows depicting the Saints, and find it in my heart to ask God to give me the words I should use to pray for Dan Savage.

    Again, I must admit that I’m ready to cry. I hope to feel better later.

    Since I’m one of those people who simply can’t learn the lesson progressives are teaching: (You, as a Catholic, are a hateful bigot. Your entire life is based on lies in an old book. You play with beads while chanting, like some throwback to medieval times. You follow an old man in Rome. You pray to a magical sky God who doesn’t exist. You are stupid. You are backward. You deserve to be ridiculed, mocked, hated and shunned. You deserve this. You deserve it, and you need to just accept it. Your feelings do not matter, because one thousand years ago, the crusades happened. You are a freak, your parents were freaks and your children are freaks. They will always be freaks. Your grandchildren, if they are lucky, will learn from we the tolerant and enlightened that you are a freak. They will laugh at you, too, behind their hands. It does not matter how hard you pray to your fake and hateful God. You are NOTHING. Nothing. You need to understand this. Learn your freaking lesson, now, or else).

    I guess I’m finished my rant. I will probably spend this day crying to Our Lord and His Mother. People may say, “Why would you allow others to make you feel as though you are a piece of shit? Why should they ruin your day?”

    I don’t know the answer. I only know that, today, that’s exactly how I feel. I have learned to deal with hurt of this kind over the years. I don’t know why this particular episode hurt me so much. I only know that it hurts.


  • Thanks, Readers

    This week three great things happened with regard to my writing.

    First, my 20 year old niece finished reading The Notice, and told me the end made her cry. (In a good way). Here’s a screen shot of  our back and forth texts:


    Second, a longtime twitter friend, who is also an author, finished reading Tears Of Paradox. She also gave me great feedback, saying that my writing gave insight into the lives of practicing Catholics. Reading her review was the highlight of my day yesterday.

    Third, this morning at Mass, I ran into a lady who has read both Tears Of Paradox and The Notice. She told me she absolutely loved book two, and could not put it down until she finished. Hearing feedback like this makes all the hard work worth it.

    I am so grateful to the folks who enjoy my work. Almost everyone asks me this question: “Will Jason and his father finally meet in book three?” The answer is: Yes, they will. I truly hope I can do this reunion justice.

    I have done lots of research and planned many plot lines for book three. I don’t know the title yet. Titles are very difficult for me. I have written less than a chapter so far, but I plan to hit it hard over the summer. I am not the fastest writer, but I am a thorough one.

    In the meantime, if you are a reader who has enjoyed my work, please tell a friend. I’ll sign off with the following video. Click here, please, to watch and listen to the man who inspired much of my work. You Tube does not allow certain videos to be embedded.

    This song is part of my inspiration for Michael Sean, Jason’s father, This particular version is from a bootleg which was released with Springsteen’s Darkness On The Edge Of Town boxed set. My husband gave it to me as a gift a few years ago. This 1978 show must have been magical for people lucky enough to have been there.

    Here are the lyrics:

    “It’s Hard To Be A Saint In The City”

    I had skin like leather and the diamond-hard look of a cobra
    I was born blue and weathered but I burst just like a supernova
    I could walk like Brando right into the sun
    Then dance just like a Casanova
    With my blackjack and jacket and hair slicked sweet
    Silver star studs on my duds like a Harley in heat
    When I strut down the street I could feel it’s heartbeat
    The sisters fell back and said “Don’t that man look pretty”
    The cripple on the corner cried out “Nickels for your pity”
    Them gasoline boys downtown sure talk gritty
    It’s so hard to be a saint in the city
    I was the king if the alley, mama I could talk some trash
    I was the prince of the paupers crowned downtown at the beggar’s bash
    I was the pimp’s main prophet I kept everythning cool
    Just a backstreet gambler with the luck to lose
    And when the heat came down it was left on the ground
    The devil appeared like Jesus through the steam in the street
    Showin’ me a hand I knew even the cops couldn’t beat
    I felt his hot breath on my neck as I dove into the heat
    It’s so hard to be a saint when you’re just a boy out on the street
    And the sages of the subway sit just like the living dead
    As the tracks clack out the rhythm their eyes fixed straightahead
    They ride the line of balance and hold on by just a thread
    But it’s too hot in these tunnels you can get hit up by the heat
    You get up to get out at your next stop but they push you
    Back down in your seat
    Your heart starts beatin’ faster as you struggle to your feet
    You’re outa that hole and back up on the street
    And them South Side sisters sure look pretty
    The cripple on the corner cries out “Nickels for your pity”
    And them downtown boys they sure talk gritty
    It’s so hard to be a saint in the city.

    Lately, the title of this song describes me, trying to live my life and be a good person. Being a follower of Christ is difficult at this time, with all the unrest in America and the world. Times are hard all over. It’s so hard to be a saint in the city that is this world. But just the same, we have salvation, if only we stay with Him.