The old dog lay content in front of his old house and old tree--
comfortable with himself and his world.

Well, men, women, and children-- the old and the young-- walked by his land,
people who were entangled with their longings.
their inner souls so clouded and perplexed
that they can't even appreciate or take in the light of day
nor the dark of night.

Walking as blind old beggars with eyes turned inwards,
turned only towards inner turmoil and want.

Dear Homeschooling Friends,

Often when discussing morality or the aspects thereof with both teenagers and adults, one will hear someones life philosophy in the form of, "hey, what is right for you may not be right for me." These "relativists," as we call them, do not have a clue. Mostly but not always, relativists are atheists or extremely weak believers in God, or a god, or some type of god, and so on. After their typical catch phrase stated above, discussions with them often turn to this question: does absolute moral truth exist? How do we measure it? What is its nature?

I believe homeschooling is a wonderful thing! It opens a student to new ideas, cultures, beliefs, and ethics that a student wouldn't find in public school. Many people have a paradigm that homeschooling is merely a way for parents to keep their children from the world and everyday things public schooled students have to deal with. I feel that homeschoolers have an extremely special relationship with their parents that most public schoolers never have.

As I sit here struggling with spring allergies, on the back steps, I truly appreciate the beauties of companionship. Next to me my little dog lies, fully appreciating the stroking and scratching he finds himself receiving from my idle hands. Though it appears that he has the better side of the bargain, his little presence means everything to me. I have never owned a cat, and yet, almost without hesitation, I could say that I will always love the canine more than the feline. For, to me, canine means trust, affection, and warmth.

Thank You

Walking Your mysterious path...
Baby steps... one by one
I left fear at the gate
With only a short hesitate

Thank You for holding my hand, Father
Thank You for leading me
I'm going to make it
With You by my side

Hello all,

I can't believe it. Time flew like a sparrow over my head and I didn't notice it. Now the END is near.

It's kind of like watching one of those movies where you're both eager for it to end so you can go to the bathroom, but also really caught up in the story. You don't really want it to end because you're living a different life through the characters. Their lives end before your eyes, and then you have to go on living your own life (and find the bathroom).

The water ripples around the luxurious ocean liner. A gentle breeze blows in from the sea. On deck, a little white dog and a European boy with a funny tuft of hair enjoy the whole scene. They of course are the famous boy reporter, Tintin, and Snowy, his pet dog, in one of their first adventures, The Cigars of the Pharaoh. If you’ve read this book you know peace won’t last for long ! Tintin will be accused of being a drug smuggler and from that point on, you will not be able to put this Tintin down! Tintin and his dog, Snowy, will go though many perils before the book is through .

Five minutes before Mass began, a stranger walked through the side doors of the church. He wore a handsome blue suit jacket, leather shoes, and a green tie. His hair was short and black, as were his eyes. The man had broad muscular shoulders, a Roman nose, and a firm jaw. Something about his figure seemed too big for the church, although the church itself was built in the gothic style with large granite stones and dark pine. The people of St. Gregory turned like ducks in a pond in their pews to look at the stranger.

As I sit here thinking about this subject I know that many times I have tried to be like someone else thinking it will get me a friend or that I wont stick out like a sore thumb. Everytime I do this I think why I am I doing this. If my friends can not except me the way that I am then they are really not my friends. They only pretend to be my friends so that they can get something out of the mix. Many time I hear someone dissing someone in the halls of my church building and i wonder what the person who is on the receiving end really is feeling like.