Abuse.
What usually comes into your mind when you see the word ‘Abuse’?
I bet you think of beatings.
It’s hard to believe many families still suffer from abuse, be it physical or

verbal.

I’ve known many friends or people around me who are physically and verbally abused.

Verbal abuses hurts just as much as physical abuses.

Persons who verbally abuses their families are just so selfish.
They want to vent their anger and because they’re angry,
they want others’ day to be ruined too.
And they selfishly feel unfair that only they are feeling upset so they’re out to upset others. 

Such selfish people ought to be thrown onto a lone island and live alone.
Or they should be shot.
Or they could simply be aware of the situation and control their anger or seek professional help.

When was the last time things aren’t going well for you and you vent your anger on others?

Are you an abuser too?

A rose is a perennial flower of the genus Rosa, within the family Rosaceae, in which there are over 100 species that come in a variety of colors. Some grow in erect shrubs while others grow as vines. Most species are equipped with thorns that grow from the epidermis of the stem to aid in clinging to other plants and protection of the flower. A rose is a living plant with a life span that shortens when cut. Roses are flowers most often kept by people as a possession, whether in a garden or a vase. In ancient Rome, the rose represented matters of secrecy. The phrase sub rosa or “under the rose”, means to keep a secret — derived from this belief. It is also a Christian symbol for Christ’s blood, each of the 5 petals of a rose representing his wounds. The rose is also used as a symbol of social democracy in many countries. Perhaps the most prevalent symbolic functions of the modern rose are love and beauty. They are often given as gifts in this fashion, to symbolize affection, making them a commodity of love and self-giving.

Love

A glass case is transparent, but thick. One can see through it, but not get past it. Glass can be broken, but then it becomes sharp and dangerous. A glass case shows off what it holds, but it doesn’t allow contact with its contents. Glass cases are used to show off things that should be admired, but not handled.

Tattoo done at Timeless Tattoo in Glasgow Scotland.

This company has recently been added on Expopedia, the tradefair service finder. Visit our website for more information.

Thorns Group
Brantwood Road 125
N17 0DX Tottenham (United Kingdom)
More information about Thorns Group …

An overview of the available activities for Thorns Group …

• Rental: furniture

Don’t know what the name of this plant is but it looked interesting!

....

Thanksgiving Classic: Thankful For The Thorns

Sandra felt as low as the heels of her shoes when she pulled open the florist shop door, against a November gust of wind. Her life had been as sweet as a spring breeze and then, in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a “minor” automobile accident stole her joy. This was Thanksgiving week and the time she should have delivered their infant son. She grieved over their loss.

Troubles had multiplied. Her husband’s company “threatened” to transfer his job to a new location. Her sister had called to say that she could not come on her long awaited holiday visit. What’s worse, Sandra’s friend suggested that Sandra’s grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer.

“Had she lost a child?  She has no idea what I’m feeling,” thought Sandra with a shudder. “Thanksgiving? Thankful for what?” she wondered. “For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended her? For an airbag that saved her life, but took her child’s?”

“Good afternoon, can I help you?” Sandra was startled by the approach of the shop clerk.

“I…. I need an arrangement,” stammered Sandra.

“For Thanksgiving?”  Sandra nodded.  Do you want the beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the ‘Thanksgiving Special’?  I’m convinced that flowers tell stories,” she continued. “Are you looking for something that conveys ‘gratitude’ this Thanksgiving?”

“Not exactly!” Sandra blurted out. “In the last five months, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong.” Sandra regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the clerk said, “I have the perfect arrangement for you.”

Then the bell on the door rang, and the clerk greeted the new customer, “Hi, Barbara… let me get your order.” She excused herself and walked back to a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an arrangement of greenery, bows, and what appeared to be long-stemmed thorny roses. Except the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped: there were no flowers.

“Do you want these in a box?” asked the clerk.

Sandra watched for the customer’s response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose stems with no flowers! She waited for laughter, but neither woman laughed. “Yes, please,” Barbara replied with an appreciative smile. “You’d think after three years of getting the special, I wouldn’t be so moved by its significance, but I can feel it right here, all over again.” She said, as she gently tapped her chest.

Sandra stammered, “That lady just left with, uh…. she left with no flowers!”

“That’s right, said the clerk. “I cut off the flowers. That’s the ‘Special’. I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet.”

“Oh, come on! You can’t tell me someone is willing to pay for that!” exclaimed Sandra.

“Barbara came into the shop three years ago, feeling much as you do, today,” explained the clerk. “She thought she had very little to be thankful for. She had just lost her father to cancer; the family business was failing; her son had gotten into drugs; and she was facing major surgery.”

“That same year I had lost my husband,” continued the clerk. “For the first time in my life, I had to spend the holidays alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too much debt to allow any travel.”

“So what did you do?” asked Sandra.

“I learned to be thankful for thorns,” answered the clerk quietly. “I’ve always thanked God for the good things in my life and I NEVER questioned Him why those GOOD things happened to me, but when the bad stuff hit, I cried out, “WHY? WHY Me?!” It took time for me to learn that the dark times are important to our faith! I have always enjoyed the ‘flowers’ of my life, but it took the thorns to show me the beauty of God’s comfort! You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we’re afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort others.”

Sandra sucked in her breath, as she thought about the thought that her friend had tried to tell her. “I guess the truth is, I don’t want comfort. I’ve lost a baby and I’m angry with God.”

Just then someone else walked in the shop. “Hey, Phil!” the clerk greeted the balding, rotund man. “My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving arrangement… twelve thorny, long-stemmed stems!” laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a tissue wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.

“Those are for your wife?” asked Sandra incredulously. “Do you mind telling me why she wants a bouquet that looks like that?”

“No… I’m glad you asked,” Phil replied. “Four years ago, my wife and I nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but with the Lord’s grace and guidance, we trudged through problem after problem. The Lord rescued our marriage. Jenny (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of rose stems to remind her of what she had learned from “thorny” times. That was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific “problem” and give thanks for what that problem taught us.” As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra, “I highly recommend the Special!”

“I don’t know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life.” Sandra said to the clerk. “It’s all too… fresh.”

“Well,” the clerk replied carefully, “my experience has shown me that the thorns make the roses more precious. We treasure God’s providential care more during trouble than at any other time. Remember that it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love. Don’t resent the thorns.”

Tears rolled down Sandra’s cheeks. For the first time since the accident, she loosened her grip on her resentment. “I’ll take those twelve long-stemmed thorns, please,” she managed to choke out.

“I hoped you would,” said the clerk gently. “I’ll have them ready in a minute.”

“Thank you. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart. The first year’s arrangement is always on me.” The clerk smiled and handed a card to Sandra. “I’ll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe you would like to read it first.”

It read:  “My God, I have never thanked You for my thorns. I have thanked You a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns. Teach me the glory of the cross I bear; teach me the value of my thorns. Show me that I have climbed closer to You along the path of pain. Show me that, through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more brilliant.”

Praise Him for the roses; thank Him for the thorns.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author Unknown

The best to be had on this overcast day…

"Dusty Rose" (Rose, Side View) Nikon D300, 105mm, F/8, 1/40s, -1.0EV, ISO 640, Built-in TTL Flash, -2.0EV

Nihilistic Poetry

Donate(your help) generously.
A BIG THANK YOU FROM ME!

When opportunity knocks, some people complain about the noise, while others spring into action.

Which kind of person are you?

For most of the problems that your customers are giving you,
you are PAID to solve them.

Oh how you disgust me.

Up close. They are perfectly geometric. Balanced. Sharp. Really sharp. I wonder why roses have thorns. I even researched the answer, and there isn’t one. Roses just have thorns. That’s how they are. So here are some of the up close thorns I captured…

Fate dropped me

Bewildered in this forest,

Untamed,

Hazed with drapes of vines ~

Trying to find the answers

From this tangled passages 

Resolving the maze

To find my pathway

To you.

I stand before a forked path,

My head loaded

With question-filled sack

Keeping my balance,

Avoiding pitfalls:

To my right are hedges

Of thorn-filled,

Truth-concealing,

Tendril-climbing vines.

A single wrong move

Through their bowers 

Would cost me stings

From their spines of truth.

To my left, an inviting path

Strewn with petals,

Promising comfort

From gossamer of lies

Misleading me away

To dead ends,

To lost ways.

To my center is an easy way

To nowhere,

A direction that would lead me back

Here. To choose. Sooner or later.

If only your hand would reach out

From the bower of thorns,

If only heavens would send signal.

If only I could hear your heartbeats

Pounding from the other side.

If only, but . . .

Armoured only with longing,

I don’t know if it could shield me

To last the stings of truths

I would discover (I need to reveal),

To straighten the tangled pathway

That would bring you

And me, together.

Smothered with veil of tears,

I take the path to truth,

Taking chances

In the hazed bowers,

Following bloody hints

You left in the thorns,

Like trails of breadcrumbs,

As I soothe your pains in return

With balms of found answer

To our sacks of questions

I slowly unload from my head

Leaving them to mark the blind alleys

That would lead you

To me.

From separate spheres

In a labyrinth,

We clear a single 

Entangled passage

(Closer than we thought),

Daring to defy the easy way.

If that’s what it cost

To find our way,

I surrender to my fate.

To find my egress

To you.

—-

Jeques, 2009. From his poetry collection, “A Traveler’s Soliloquies”

I realize I haven’t posted in a while, but I hadn’t heard a song that really “struck me” to right about – until last week. I had heard this song once before, loved it, but then totally forgot about it until Iwas playing around with my Youtube channel while studying. The song is called Thorns by Demon Hunter, but you don’t have to be a metal fan to be able to appriciate it.

Here is the video with lyrics, there is also a fan made graphic version that I didn’t post.

I just really connected with this song from the first time I heard it.  The meaning and implications of this song are just so deep it’s hard to even comprehend. It’s about self-injury, but unlike so many other songs about the same topic, it shows a different depth to it.  Basically the song is saying that we don’t have to  hurt ourselves for what we do, Jesus has taken the punishment of bleeding for us.  It is no longer our burden to bear, and we can give it up to  him.

I am not sure if this has the same meaning to anyone else that it does for me, but I thought I would share anyway. I guess you might not be able to understand the emotion unless you have been in that place. I think this song can apply to anyone – not just those who physically hurt themselves. We all have a tendancy to beat our selves up (emotionally, physically or mentally) over stuff that happens, and there comes a time we just need to let go.

Here is a quote from the band:

“In the few months before I began writing lyrics for this record, I was hearing a lot about cutting. This, for those who don’t know is the act of inflicting pain on one’s self (often times by cutting with a knife, or burning with a lighter) in order to take their mind off of some emotional pain. Although I don’t personally know anyone who has dealt with this (that I am aware of), the idea of writing a song about it was really placed on my heart. I guess I thought I might be able to speak to some young people about this particular issue. I couldn’t help but draw a connection between someone wanting to inflict pain on themselves and Jesus having been sacrificed so that we wouldn’t need to bare the guilt of sin. My thought was that Christ had already been cut for us, so there was no need for us to inflict pain on ourselves. That work has been paid for in full by the cross. The chorus lyrics hope that this person (represented by a young female in the song) might find this truth in her darkest of times, when she realizes that the emptiness she hoped would leave after inflicting this pain, still remains. Her flesh, broken, is emptiness. Christ’s flesh broken is mercy for us.” – Demon Hunter

For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. -Colossians 1:19, 20

Thorns

The beauty of the thorns,

Was the single drop of blood

That was shed,

To save the whole world

From the greatness of sin.

Listening to : Hosanna By: Hillsong;

I found this version of the ABC’s of Salvation on our church’s website. It is great that so many churches now have this readily available for people to use.  Its not enough to be a good person or to do good deeds. You can’t work your way into heaven. God wants someone to come to him with no strings attached. Works are supposed to come from a heart of worship and love towards God, a heart that shares a love for others, and wants to do what Jesus himself would do. They aren’t to be done out of the fear that you won’t have a place in Heaven, He will use it, but he doesn’t want that to be your reason in doing those works. God loves us. He loves me and you, and everyone. It doesn’t matter what we have done in the past, He wants to bring us closer to Him because of his unconditional love for us. God has been with me in the path that I have been walking. It hasn’t been easy, I  lost my mom, five years have passed since she died. After that my dad filled with grief, hurt me once again by telling me that we, my brother and I, could stay at our home, or live with our grandparents, but he was taking our youngest brother to live with him and is new wife, because jo was his son. I felt abandoned. “What does that make me? I am your daughter or have you forgotten?” I thought these things constantly.  God was there though. I have battled depression, thoughts of suicide, heartache, loneliness, anger, and many other feelings. Battles that seemed lost to me, But God was there. He reassures me everyday.  He says, if nothing else you are MY beloved, MY daughter, and I LOVE YOU. God cherishes me, us. He will be there no matter what is going on, you just have to call on Him. He fights the battles that I can’t, the battles I can only win when I am on my knees in prayer. Basically He Is My Savior and Lord. The Warrior of My Heart. He is so much more than that.  No one  will take his  place.

Protect your Art.

Who knew a raincoat could protect from encroaching thorns? 

Humor of the Day:

Clara: My pastor is so good he can talk on any subject for an hour.

Sarah: That’s nothing! My pastor can talk for an hour without a subject!

Today’s Meditation: 

 Jesus and Mary Meet on the Way to the Cross,

The 4th Sorrow of Mary – Luke 2:  25-40

See the eyes of Jesus and Mary as they met on Calvary.  The crown of thorns adorned His head! Blood ran down His face! A heavy cross on His back! Wounded, His whole body covered with bleeding wounds! And her whole life flashed before her, the life that she had spent with Jesus. This was the beloved child that she had held in her arms when Simeon told Mary that a sword, too, shall pierce her heart!

It is true that a parent does feel the pain and hurt of their children.  I can just picture Mary seeing her beloved son not only being scourged – the worst type of brutal beating; but now being forced to carry the object of His death.  Jesus also had to carry His cross through a crowd of people that loved Him, but also those that spit on Him, and threw rocks and other objects at Him.

Mary had to be in pure agony.  She was watching her son being treated as a criminal, and mocked by those that hated Him.    Mary’s heart was broken; she was in tears.  In my imagining of this seen, Mary was probably being supported and held by Mary Magdalen and ‘the other Mary’.  I can truly see her wishing to take Jesus’ place.   In a way, I can almost see Mary watching this event happening, as painful as the actual scourging and death that Jesus was experiencing.

Mary, I love you and I pray for you.  Always be with me, as you were always with your loving Son.  Amen.

Pax et Bonum

Dan Halley, SFO

*****

Franciscan Saint of the Day: St. Peter of Alcantara 1499-1562

Peter was born at Alcantara in Spain in 1499.  

At the University of Salamanca Peter resolved to join the Franciscan Order. Peter set out for the quiet convent of Monjarez. On the way our Lord gave him a signal assurance of his vocation. Peter came to a stream which, because of heavy rains, had overflowed its banks considerably. Seeing no means at hand with which to cross, he knelt down and asked God for help. Suddenly, without knowing how, he found himself on the other side.

Once received into the order, he gave himself up completely to union with God.  He never tired of going from place to place to give missions, and his success was so astounding that St. Francis Borgia once wrote to him: “Your remarkable success is a special comfort to me.” His various activities, however, in no way diminished his spirit of prayer. He lived and toiled in this spirit, and endeavored to impart it to others.

The sufferings of Christ were the special object of his devotion. As Christ sacrificed Himself for us, Peter found nothing too difficult in His service; and as Christ atoned so severely for our sins, Peter practiced the most rigorous penance. The custom of erecting a cross at the close of a mission had its origin with St. Peter of Alcantara. Whenever feasible, he had the cross erected on an elevation, so that it could be seen all over the parish. On one occasion he was so literally carried away with devotion that he sped through the air to such a cross, where with arms outstretched he prayed a long time, while rays brighter than sunlight proceeded from his person.

He wrote a little treatise on prayer and meditation which is celebrated the world over. Pope Gregory XV declared that it was written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. The great mistress of prayer, St. Theresa, who lived at that time, wished to have the saint for her spiritual director; and he aided her in reforming the order of Carmel.

He was a very humble man, and fled from honors. In the order itself he was obliged to accept the position of provincial, and due to his efforts his province rose to a flourishing state of religious discipline. Provincial though he was, he did not hesitate on occasion to perform the lowliest duties in the house.

On October 18, 1562, he died peacefully in the Lord. St. Theresa saw his soul take its flight to heaven. Later he appeared to her and said: O happy penance that has merited for me such wondrous glory!” Many miracles, including the raising of six dead persons to life, occurred in answer to prayers addressed to him. Pope Clement IX enrolled him among the saints.

 from: The Franciscan Book of Saints, ed. by Marion Habig, ofm., © 1959 Franciscan Herald Press

(From http://www.franciscan-sfo.org website)

We foraged through the garbage dumps
scrounging for food to embellish our emaciated forms,
in adolescent years
searching for the objects which could produce
some small sum for our families. 

We did this – not knowing, this was our time to be children. 

Planes….
we could hear the whirring of the bombs
then the implosion
as they decimated the landscape
leveled our villages
took and covered our parents -
as the fires of the napalm seared our skin.
We cried the wail of orphans
and sang the songs of those
too young to understand. 

We did this – not knowing, this was our time to be children. 

We marched, shackled at first at the ankles
then released to march again
a Kalashnikov AK – 47 strapped on our backs
a new pair of combat boots,
we murdered women, children,
our ancestors, our countrymen,
this was our education
this our mission. 

We did this – not knowing, this was our time to be children. 

Grabbed from the bosoms of our mothers
sold and carried off
carted across the sea
housekeeping in the shadows on Park Avenue
locked in small rooms
adjacent to the pantries we cleaned.

We were sold to service those whose deranged minds
sought consolation in power over the powerless -
we watched our replacements come at age 9. 

This was our lot – not knowing, this was our time to be children. 

They wrapped our feet when we were four
and did not remove the Golden Lotus binding,
on crippled toes, carried burdens like pack animals. 

Across another continent without anesthesia,
elders took pieces of broken glass
snipped our clitoris
stitches of thorns used to control our bleeding. 

Our fathers came into our beds
their weight atop us paled
the weight atop our minds.
We carried these rocks like the stone of our countenance. 

when they did these things 

We did not know – this was our time to be children. 

When you heard you cried for us -
        – by then, we no longer knew of tears

You told us that if you knew
you would have wrapped us
swaddled us in a warm blanket
like the one in your layette
comforted us, brushed our hair
told us fairy tales, taken us to the zoo
let us pet the lambs at the farmer’s fair
swim in a crystal blue pool
dive from the board
listen to music, and dance…
kick a soccer ball
these were the things, you said,
that children did - 

except – there was no longer time for those things 

the time to be children had passed
along with our innocence. 

When all this transpired – we did not know 

it was our time to be children.

Ray Brown