a prophetic voice-

morning plea Good morning, God, whoever you are. My heart offers welcome. I sense your calming, caring presence as this stiff, aging body stretches tentatively into the day. From the news on NPR to the sounds of chanting from a cherished CD, from the whisper of the comforting hear to the songs of the towhee and robin and wren outside my window, my world is filled with signs of life and living, even in the midst of memories of the dear departed which accopany me during these February days, death relentlessly stalking my mind and heart. Comfort this one small person today, Grandfather God. As I crawl into your lap, caress my tear-stained face with your tender hands and hold me close for just a little while. Is that your dear voice I hear whispering, "Precious child, this, too, shall pass," in my ear? Twenty years ago today my eldest son died. Though much time has passed, I miss him still and remember, remember, remember... evening prayer With tear

I think the Boys Scouts of America missed their chance to be an inclusive, welcoming organization when they, in what seemed to me a cowardly move, put off deciding if they would admit openly gay young men to their troops, accept openly gay persons as leaders. There is this guy, Jesus, I have come to know over the years of my life and who I feel privileged to have as my life example and guide, and he welcomed everyone...no exceptions. Tax collectors, lepers, blowhards, prostitutes, deniers, betrayers...all had a place at the table with him. BSA, are you paying attention?               *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   * Heard a recent report on NPR about a study that had been done at one of the prestigious medical facilities in the nation (I forget which one- I think in Boston) which looked at the long-term survival rates of early-diagnosed breast cancer when it was treated with lumpectomy and radiation as compared to when it was treated by mastectomy. The results