Ala’ Carte. Prophets. Profits. Prophetic Oaths and Promises.

Warning!

To Bardolaters everywhere.

Alert!

Amber,

IPA,

Pale Ale,

Prophetic.

Yes.

Unforced error?

Hmmmmmmm…..

An avoidable error in which something good or of value is eliminated when trying to get rid of something unwanted.

I feel ‘ya.

Retaining the superfluous because of excessive zeal.

Bardolaters beware. Anything done is excess is doomed.

There is no magic potion.

No $400.00 whiskey or $ 40.00 either.

To ease the pain or burden.

No cow with spots or chocolate sprinkle dustings.

There are no tarot cards.

Carrot cards.

No palming it.

No reading palms.

A horoscope can be a little poem of light, and delight, but seldom tells the truth of the whole person. A whole person.

A person seeking wholeness.

That impossible task of wholeness is best left up to the Father.

If wholeness is really what you seek.

He finds nothing impossible.

Truth and consequences.

Walk the walk.

Talk the talk.

Speak for the meak.

Practice what you preach,

Challenge accepted. With a short story.

Please indulge me for a second of your day. Of your very busy day….of parking carts, cars, hiked skirts and big tippers.

Promises, commitments, ceremonies, unions, etcetera, etcetera.

ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

How ‘bout the sacred sacrament.

Too hard?

To

Walk the walk.

Talk the talk.

Will do.

Real good.

One day when I was quite young. I took a walk down the aisle clutching the arm of a man. A man I loved more than one can speak. A kind and kind of person who taught me daily that when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Not a perfect person—who of us down here is perfection. (pre-Botox anyway and thousands of crunches)

The man in my mind taught me to never, ever

Bail.

On self. On others.

We had developed an unspoken connection.

Of love and respect.

In that beautiful and scary walk with him I made a silent promise to him, heart to heart, that I would always and forever fight for him.

Only the good die young.

The rest of us are down here to tough it out. And show our stripes along the way. Show what kind of a fighter we are or can become.

Sometimes stone-faced, stone-faced lies do not tell the whole story of a life. And somebody blows their stack. Because dedication to the sacred gets lost in the cart-parking shuffle.

Many of us were not born yesterday.

Dedication matters—not just to the big tippers.

Dedication does matter. Or can. Provided the hiked up skirts lengthen a little.

Hey many of us are “clued” in. The rest of ya’ can keep hiking it up all you like.

Real-earn-your-stripes-men deserve real love.

”Ladies”——Hike it up all you want.

Just don’t try to pass it off as something it is not.

Dedication to what matters.

My Father. He was a man first which made it abundantly easy to follow in his footsteps. Walk the Walk. He was a parent. Best of all, a person who taught me well. When we parted at the altar that day so long ago, when I was so, so young, I made another promise solely and silently to him through Him. Love that never waivers is like that.

My Father loved and loves me even when I stomped, pouted and threw things at the wall. He had a strength and presence—-although many simply ignored it.

Pity them.

And I do.

Based on what he and My father taught me.

A promise is a promise.

Even when it gets tough.

Even in the worst of moments.

When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.

Although my Father and I would not be under the same roof anymore, we were never far apart in heartfully knowing what dedication is and that dedication matters.

When we are held to the flame.

Or the AC is blowing.

Return to you.

At that time, I took the arm of another person. And when I did, my Father’s guidance was the principal and principled passages and book I followed.

In the best of times.

In the worst of times.

Challenging.

I was never afraid of what was to come, because of his deep and abiding faith and his ever lasting love. Even when it became too difficult for him to express completely. Toward the end.

Only the good die young.

I watched him. In awe. With the rule of law and injustice at the forefront of my mind. When things became easier for others and more difficult for him, I filed it in the recesses of my mind and vowed to never allow his memory to feel like he was fighting alone.

And. I never looked back.

How?

Steady as you go.

Take to the street.

Consult your higher power.

A higher order.

A higher authority.

I fight authority and authority always wins. Yep.

Why?

True strong and real authority seldom backs down from a challenge.

And believe it or not we may become the challengers that challenge the higher authority.😳 In desperate attempts too.

What is it? and how?

What in the world are you talking about……

The skirts get hiked even higher. Hypocrisy along with it.

How?

To change the facts. Cuz we just don’t like ‘em.

Well, apparently one cannot do that..But “A” for effort……

I dunno.

Just got live with it and the blown stacks of crying out for help as they come.

No way to live.

Stoned. Or stone-faced.

How?

You ask.

READ THE PRESENT.

Not like the news.

READ THE PRESENT.

Enlightened under the actions of the Holy Spirit.(pf)

Hey. The beautiful ceremonies may be a hunky dorey bash, but the life that follows is the real testament. Of whether you can stand the heat.

Floating butterflies and doves, champagne and pretty white dresses aside.

A present is a present you present in the present.

You are a gift. No. not a GIF. (although enjoyable and funny and all that stuff👯‍♂️)

READ THE PRESENT.

Who is a prophet?

Who are they?(pf)

What do they do that is so…..”great”.

Welcome another.

We are all prophets by election through baptism (pf).

My prophecy, my bearing witness. As bearers of God’s message—in family, parish, religion, community, churches, society. There are many, many ways to pray and call on the Spirit.(pf)

Truth or Dare: Fake it ‘til you make it. Or. Get real about your faith.

Listen and dialogue, even the littlest as prophetic gifts of wonder and value and accept them as the gifts they are.

No hiking the skirt—no hypocrisy allowed.

Avoid conflicts with a sincere desire. To learn.

Stoned. Stone-faced doesn’t cut it.

Loud faces (scj) are shouting it loud and clear.

Welcome.

Welcome another.

Live to be a

“Living sign”. (pf)

That there are rules, regulations of our best selves. The words are gloriously and endlessly short storied in the Good Book.

Hey. If you really care to learn, you may want to pick one up at your local book store.👏🏻.📚📖📓.

Bye now.