Boys Town & Father Flannigan (1938)

So here we are, me and John, watching Boys Town; 1938 B&W movie with Mickey Rooney and Spencer Tracy.  Based on the real life story of Father Flanagan.

Ten minutes into the movie and the tears are falling.  It's what happens to W.O.Ws.

The music, the buildings, the clothes, the cars -- all of it touches my heart.  And not just because it illicits memories of my childhood.

Have you ever seen it?  You should. The message, the music, memories from my childhood.  But so much more.

Maybe it WAS Hollywood -- but these stories always had a message.  A moral message.  This movie epitomises it.

If ever we needed the message of this movie . . .

Beauty and the Mess . . . (10 16 2015)

     So here I am again – on my screenless porch – with my coffee – and Rocky – and two MORE puppies. (Puppy sitting for a couple of days). 
     (Well, one puppy, the littlest one, Cissy, is hunkered down in her crate in the living room – free to come and go as she pleases – except she pleases to stay in it most of the time. The Vet told my daughter she had a scar on her head indicating head trauma so we think she was abused before my daughter got her. Cissy is uncomfortable with new places/people.)
     The beauty of the morning, though chilly, touches me. Soon I will be taking my morning coffee/meditation inside next to the fireplace but for now I am still enjoying these outdoor mornings.
     The beauty of my world – the people, the places, the things and times of my life – overwhelm me with gratitude. My little corner of the world has been so safe, secure, and lovely – mostly. And I think of the many more physically beautiful places on this earth – most of which I will never see. Except in TV documentaries.
     The beauty – and the mess – of the world . . .
     Once again – this thought overwhelms me and my heart squeezes and pushes water from my eyes. I wish, somehow I could "fix it" -- the mess, I mean.
     Silly me. Well, they don’t call me W.O.W.(*), for nuthin’, you know.

* * * * *

     I watched Oprah on the Stephen Colbert Show (or whatever he calls it now) last night. I have always perceived her to be a great role model and example. Based on the few programs of hers I have seen and the snippets of her life I have read.

     Last night she and Stephen teased each other a bit, as you would expect. She laughingly referred to herself as "the preacher girl" which she told him was her nickname as a youngster because she was always spouting scripture.
     I get the impression – rightly or wrongly – that Oprah herself is a Christian. But through her experiences and opportunities has been exposed to many influential people of all sorts of beliefs. And that she has found common ground in many of these belief systems.
     Kind of what I have experienced, as well. Growing up Christian but in adulthood getting to know folks of various persuasions – Catholics, Lutherans, Methodists, Jews, Buddhists, Atheists.

* * * * *

     The beauty and the logic of God . . .  I/we can’t really comprehend it, can we? All these nations. All these peoples. All this religion. All this fighting – so often over religion. Or the lack thereof.
     Gets complicated. For me, maybe, but not for God.
     Seems to me it starts with where you are born. America during my lifetime has been, mostly, a Christian leaning country. My parents were Christian, most everyone I knew until adulthood attended Christian churches. So it’s understandable for me to have embraced their beliefs initially. But as I grew up and studied the Bible for myself, it still made sense to me and I have continued to embrace its teachings, even as I have been exposed to and compared various other persuasions.
     But what about all these folks in other countries – Japan, India, Iraq, Israel, Turkey, Greece. Etcetera, etcetera. Such contradiction. Such conflict. Who’s right? Who’s wrong?
     I can’t figure it out. I can’t solve it. And my soul hurts for all the pain and anguish that these conflicting beliefs produce in the world. The fighting, the wars.
     I can’t solve this. But then God reminds me – it’s not YOUR problem; it’s MINE. MY job. And the pain in my heart subsides once more. 

* * * * *

     We are ALL His children. It doesn’t matter whether we’re born in Iran or Italy or Japan or . . .  Hoboken . . .  :)
     We likely start out believing what our parents tell us to believe. Inch by inch we start thinking for ourselves. Sometimes we embrace our parents’ beliefs, sometimes not. Whatever. If we are seeking God, He will find us.
     He takes us wherever He finds us and brings us to where we need to be.
     All we have to do is seek His will . . . and follow.
Blessings!
Sarah　
(*) Kids = Wacky Old Woman
      Me   =  Wise Old Woman