“The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove

                   than the hunger for bread. 

               ~ Mother Teresa (1910-1997)

The Bridge Builder

This beautiful poem has been running through my mind today, 
so I thought I would share it with you. 
It's written by Will Allen Dromgoole (1860-1934)
She was a prolific author who also served in the U.S. Naval Reserves.

    An old man, going a lone highway,
    Came at the evening cold and gray
    To a chasm vast and deep and wide
    Through which was flowing a swollen tide.
    The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
    The rapids held no fears for him.
    But he turned when safe on the other side
    And built a bridge to span the tide.

    “Old man,” cried a fellow pilgrim near,
    “You’re wasting your time in building here.
    Your journey will end with the closing day;
    You never again will pass this way.
    You have crossed the chasm deep and wide;
    Why build you this bridge at even-tide?”

    The builder lifted his old gray head.
    “Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
    “There follows after me today
    A youth whose feet must pass this way.
    This stream, which has been as naught to me,
    To that fair youth may a pitfall be.
    He too must cross in the twilight dim —
    Good friend, I am building this bridge for him.”


Each year from spring to fall, I watch little saplings grow from the trunk of this tree.
Tiny sprouts weather extreme summer heat to grow into strong, fully developed branches.
I never tire of the analogies in nature that teach us about our spiritual life.


Holy Fire

"External conditions are the accidents of life, it's outer trappings. The great enduring realities are love of service. Joy is the holy fire that keeps our purpose warm and our intelligence aglow. Resove to keep happy and your joy and you shall form an invincible host against difficulty."
 ~ Helen Keller

Language Fun

Too Cute!

Since I began teaching English as a volunteer about a year ago in our local community, I've wanted to learn Arabic. What a difficult language to choose...all those different phonemes (articulated sounds) that we don't have in English! Well, I've decided to begin learning in earnest. I found a great online program that will help me get through the beginning levels. It's called ArabicPod101 and includes the option of a live tutor. Anyway, just for fun I added a widget on the right sidebar of this page that diplays an "arabic word of the day." Thought some of you might enjoy it as well. 
Assalamu Alaykum!  السلام عليكم


In Old English the word "fiaell" (fyll) meant to "fall from a height."
But it wasn't used to describe the season of Fall.
About 500 years ago, when Middle English was spoken,
 the Norse word "fall" which also meant to fall from a hieght,
was borrowed into English. But the word "fall" only came to refer to the season "Fall" in the 1500s. Before then, the season was called the Germanic word "Harvest".

The word "Autumn" or in Middle English, "autompne" was taken from the Latin "autumnus." But it's use for the fall season seems to be of unkown origin.
Autumn or Fall, whichever it's called is my favorite season.
And although it represents an ending of sorts,
it always makes me think of new neginnings with it's crisp, clear days
and riot of bold color.

Nap Time

Sweet little blue eyes...

Nighyiee, Nighyiee!

The murmurs behind your back are not the sum of your worth,
              not even if they are words of admiration.
              ~ Norman G. Wlison, Writers on Writing

Aye Matee!

Dusty & Pappas
Halloween ~ 2011

Don't assume that money, shelter and creature comforts
are enough to demostrate your love.
Nothing can replace your presence,
your hug, your smile, your touch
- - -you!

~ Mayra Montero

The Errand

"You are not here merely to make a living.
You are here to enable the world to live more amply,
with greater vision,
and with a finer spirit of hope and acheivement.
You are here to enrich the world.
You impoverish yourself if you forget this errand"  
-Woodrow Wilson.


Hmmm...I've always said "Don't mistake my kindness for stupidity."
Saw this on Facebook and had to pass it along.

Eisenhower ~ 1953

Music Therapy

Two new links have been added to DustyDoodle's side bar. They're music programs that minister to the needs of elderly, disabled and cancer patients. I remember when my mom was on hospice. The day before she went to be with God, she was ministered to by music from "A Touch From Above" and it was beautiful and healing for all who were there.

Before my Dad went to join her, he often listened to the Shadow Mountain Community Church Choir on Turning Point  My sister and I knew he took great comfort in hearing the new praise songs as well as the old standards such as "It Is Well With My Soul" and "How Great Thou Art."  Please take the time to look over these two music therapy websites, The Beat of Life; The Dan Eaton Memorial Project and Heart and Hope Music. I could say more, but I'll let the websites speak for themselves.

God Lives Under The Bed

Dusty - Born July 31, 1985

This story was sent to me by a friend. Many parts of it remind me of Dusty, or as I sometimes call our microcosm, "Life According To Dusty"


I envy Kevin. My brother, Kevin, thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's what I heard him say one night. He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen, 'Are you there, God?' he said. 'Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed....'

I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of  laughter. But that night something else lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin lives in.

He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is an adult.

He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old, and he always will. He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed, that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas and that  airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.

I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life? Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner, and later to bed.

The only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child. He does not seem dissatisfied. He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work.

He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays up late twice a
week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's laundry chores.

And Saturdays - oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger. 'That one's goin' to Chi-car-go! ' Kevin shouts as he claps his hands.

His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights. And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips.

He doesn't know what it means to be discontent. His life is simple.

He will never know the entanglements of wealth or power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be.

His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it.

He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax.

He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His heart is pure. He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue.

Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always transparent, always sincere. And he trusts God.

Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a child. Kevin seems to know God - to really be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an 'educated' person to grasp. God seems like his closest companion. In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity, I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith.

It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions.

It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap. I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances - they all become disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care.

Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God.

And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed.

Kevin won't be surprised at all !

Wycliff Language and Literacy

"We believe a person best  learns to read... 
from "The Word that Kindles" by George M. Cowan

Two Thousand One Nine Eleven

Turn on your sound... This is a re-post. But it's a great poem, worth a re-read!

Remembering That Freedom Isn't Free

Remembering That Freedom Isn't Free
Turn on sound