Some years ago an old friend, now passed, told me how his mother had been his religious mentor for most his life. There wasn’t a spiritual lesson that he had studied that had not been annotated by his mom. He told me this to explain one of his crucibles…
…and as I watched him on the stage My hands were clenched in fists of rage No angel born in Hell Could break that Satan’s spell And as the flames climbed high into the night To light the sacrificial rite…
I want to renew a call I made in the days just after the election, that trying and convicting Hillary Clinton for the long list of crimes she stands accused of doing may not be the best way to deal…