#Old Hundredth hymn

[dianaleaghmatthews]

Hymn Story: All People That on Earth Do Dwell

Hymn Story: All People That on Earth Do Dwell

All People That on Earth Do Dwell was written by William Kethe. Kethe was born in Scotland and fled to the continent during Queen Mary’s persecution in the late 1550s. While living in Geneva he traveled to visit other English refugees. It is believed he was one of the translators of the Geneva Bible–which was favored by the Pilgrim fathers. He died in 1594 Dorset, England. Mary, Queen of…

[danpuff-ao3]

Recs List: Femslash Faves (for Sapphic Semptember)

For months I've been meaning to do a femslash list and thinking on it today, it occurred to me: "It's September...Sapphic September!! You have to do it NOW!! NOW NOW NOW!" So here we are!

On the plus side, my panic means I don't have much time to dawdle and overthink. All of these were the standouts to me, the ones that rushed into my mind when thinking of fics to include. So they're, of course, the BEST!

There are so many talented creators out there making such great wlw content! It does my heart good! Please share, give these creators some love, and tell me what femslash fics YOU love while you're at it!

Shades of Dawn

by @corvuscrowned Ginny/Lavender. Rated E. 2k.

Aching & beautiful.

It happens once a month — the full moon fades in the black night sky, replaced with the pink light of dawn. Ginny’s Floo sparks — vibrant green, devoured by gold and amber light. And out spills Lavender Brown.

Clip, Ravel, Cleave

by doshu (@vdoshu).Andromeda/Bellatrix. Andromeda/Tonks. Rated E. 15k.

So tragic and dark and gorgeous; I couldn't help but root for Bellatrix and Andromeda, however wrong it was.

Before Andromeda met Ted, she was a Black, through and through. While years later the story was told that she’d turned her back on her family’s dark ways, in truth, nothing was so simple.

In the beginning, it was just Andromeda and Bella. And it was just the two of them until it was too much.

Apples and Oranges Too

by drawlight (@ripeteeth). Ginny/Hermione. Rated E. 1k.

This one is so sad and passionate at the same time. They can't stay away from one another, but they can't be together.

You’re trouble, Hermione thinks. You’ve always been trouble. That’s the trouble with you.

Plenitude

by eldritcher. Hermione/Amelia. Rated M. 1k.

"Falling in love with somebody I don't really know isn't the strangest thing that has happened to me." -- and as I told the author (and anyone who will listen): "emotion does not logic."

Hers soon an hour of plenitude.

You burn me

by @etalice Ginny/Luna. Rated M. 3k.

Just stunning! Friendship & passion!

Ginny doesn’t notice the cool autumn air licking at the skin of her back. She’s ablaze with passion and want, her fire-skinned hands spreading across Luna’s moon-wax skin like the flame that devoured Serra de Sintra once. Lunae Mons, the ancients called them. Moon mountains, dwelling of Diana the Huntress, Diana of the underworld, Diana of the thrice-splitting way. But it is not Diana that Ginny worships with her hands and mouth, it is not Diana for whom Ginny’s heart sings hymns and psalms (Luna is a goddess in her own right, ruling over apple trees and old wooden stairs, overseeing windowsills and rocks and garden hedges.)

In the wake of her breakup with Harry, Ginny moves in with Luna and falls in love.

A Learning Opportunity

by floweringjudas. Oliver/Percy. Rated M. 4k.

A fun genderswap!

A potion goes awry, Percy and Oliver are turned into girls. Hijinx ensue.

Sunbeam

by @freshbrainss. Ginny/Luna. Rated E. 2k.

Sexy & sweet!

For the hundredth time that afternoon, Luna thanks the sky for sunlight.

Find This Feeling

by @gracerene. Ginny/Alicia. Rated E. 27k.

Empowering tale of self-discovery and growing up.

Ginny has everything she ever wanted: a lovely (if small) flat in the City, a wonderful boyfriend to share it with, and most importantly, her dream job as a reserve Chaser with the Holyhead Harpies. She thinks she's got life all figured out, until a new friendship forces her to reevaluate everything she thought she knew about herself.

This Stone at My Back

by Lomonaaeren. Ginny/Luna. Rated M. 3k.

Home & love.

A tour around Ginny and Luna's shared home, built amid the roots of both tree and stone.

Love and Other Forms of Chaos

by @lqtraintracks. Hermione/Millicent. Rated E. 7k.

Older characters finding love again. Plus cool magical theory talks and chaos!! Who doesn't love chaos??

"In the space between chaos and shape there was another chance." ~Jeanette Winterson

Français

by not_here_leave_a_message. Fleur/Hermione. Rated T. 4k.

Cute & funny!

Viktor was subtle but straight-forward. He had questions and he asked them and he got to know her that way. And Fleur? Fleur was a mess who aired her woes about her crush to her friends. In French.

...too bad Hermione speaks French. Sshhh!

shine

by @onbeinganangel. Ginny/Luna. Rated E. 1k.

Just thinking of this fic makes me happy. So lovely!

It’s different now they share a bed. It’s different now they share a life. It’s different now Luna is not in her blue trimmed uniform, wrapped in a brown tatty blanket. Luna is in their bed, in their house, and she wears soft silk nightgowns in pastel colours with thin lace straps. Her hair is even longer than it was before and Ginny wakes up with it on her face and in her mouth and tickling her shoulders and arms.

Nine Ways of Looking at a Book

by pauraque. Hermione/Minerva. Rated M. 1k.

One of my favorites! Warmth, intimacy, and beauty in every interaction. (I really do need more Minmione in my life!)

Hermione has come back to Hogwarts to teach history. She finds herself looking to the future, too.

Lit Match

by @phantomato. Lily/Alecto. Rated E. 1k.

Humans made of Lily and Alecto both; a little gritty, a little flawed, but oh so interesting!

Redheads should stick together.

From the Tents of Kedar

by rinsbane. Pansy/Millicent. Pansy/Fleur. Rated E. 10k.

Angst. Screwed up people screwing up (and finding love along the way.)

Millicent is everything Pansy thought she’d never touch: a fellow Slytherin, someone her own age – someone ugly, for god’s sake. Funny how things work out, isn’t it? Post-Hogwarts, post-war. Romance, really, despite warnings, and Pansy-centric.

Accept the Extraordinary

by RoozetteR. Luna/Tonks. Rated M. 2k.

Recovery, comfort, support.

No one really knows how Luna ended up living at Lupin cottage after the war. But Tonks keeps the Wrakspurts away and gives Luna hope that the world will sparkle for her again.

Breaking wild roses (stings like love's pain)

by @teacup-tai. Hermione/Pansy. Rated E. 1k.

Practically poetry. 2nd person POV.

I feel like a scream is stuck inside my chest, creeping up in the deep dark hollow of my throat. It’s a mix of pain and agony. So to keep it down, I open my mouth and fill it with your soft, tender flesh. The bronze skin of your shoulder right against my tongue.

A Study in Violet

by tofugumball. Hermione/Angelina, Hermione/Luna. Rated M. 5k.

A beautiful transition from young love to true love.

Flowers in amber are scentless. Hermione realised that years ago. But now, for the first time, it hits her how truly dull they are when compared with a colourful, breathing garden.

or,

Five times Hermione pines after a fantasy and one time she finds real love.

Let's hurt tonight (If love is pain)

by Twot. Fleur/Hermione. Rated M.

Sad soulmates (cool concept, but did I mention sad?)

When she was younger, Fleur actively searched for her soulmate. She craved for the one that would make her heart beat wild, but her soul feel calm.Her understanding of how sick the concept of soulmates was started with Gabrielle.

. The blonde avoided the Gryffindor like a boggart the light and the Gryffindor followed her like a niffler the gold.

Hermione was detirmined to fight for a chance with her soulmate . Soulmate au where you can feel your soulmate's pain

Under Different Stars

by Woldy. Luna/Tonks. Rated E. 2k.

Not everything has to make sense, but it feels oh so right!

They're so different that Tonks doesn't understand why it works, but somehow it does work.

Hot, Red

by wynnebat (@wynnefic). Alecto/Bellatrix. Rated E. 800.

Can confirm: is hot.

"When my mother taught me this spell, I think she was imagining quite a different circumstance."

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH40

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 40: Star Death Reality Show (XXIII)

In front of the screen, Qi Leren went completely cold. Even the temperature regulating suit couldn't keep out the chill pouring into the bottom of his heart.

The "Qi Leren" in the game knew "Passerby A", but Qi Leren didn't remember "Passerby A" ever meeting "Qi Leren". Was the save file changed or the whole game changed?

Qi Leren stared at the "Qi Leren" on the screen. "Qi Leren" had ignored Passerby’s existence. After seeing Maria's tombstone, he went to Ning Zhou and started a familiar conversation that made his hair stand on end.

"She always wanted to go back," Ning Zhou said.

"Go back to the Holy City?" "Qi Leren" in the game asked.

Ning Zhou nodded: "But she had been unable to go back and dared not to."

"Qi Leren" asked him, "Do you want to go back to the Holy City?"

As if it was fate, he watched the same story unfold before his eyes, only this time, he was a passerby. It was also this unique perspective that made him see many things that he hadn't noticed before—originally at that time, had Ning Zhou’s face really looked like this?

That faint shyness, when he changed his perspective, was so obvious that it couldn’t be hidden. And the look in Ning Zhou’s eyes... Those eyes that reflected the golden glow of the sunset, where can you hide the tenderness?

Maybe only two people who had feeling for each other would be too stupid to see clearly.

The following story was almost according to the exact direction of the Nightmare World, except that there was one more "Passerby". The "Qi Leren" in the game seemed to be familiar with him. From the words inadvertently mentioned by "Qi Leren", they had come from the same Novice Village. Just when Qi Leren thought he was replacing Dr. Lu, Dr. Lu also appeared, and the number of people on the Holy City task this time became five.

Passerby A, Qi Leren, Ning Zhou, Dr. Lu, and... Su He.

The Devil of Fraud who had hidden his identity and appeared in front of them as a friendly senior once again joined their ranks.

Don't take Su He, don't take him!

However, no matter how the Qi Leren in front of the screen shouted in his heart, he still knew nothing about the future fate in the game. Passerby A was just a passer-by, who couldn't control all of this. The game didn't even give him any options; he could only choose to go along the established route.

Until they came to the Holy City, until the nightmare of the new moon came, until...

Until "Qi Leren" died.

When the Passerby, who had drunk the antidote, hurried to the old site of the Vatican along with  Dr. Lu, everything was already over. Qi Leren didn't even have to go to the Vatican on top of the mountain, because he knew that the other Qi Leren was sleeping in the tree tomb in the Garden of the Holy Tomb.

Once, there was an afternoon with warm sunshine, when they had had a picnic here, the grass and treetops were full of flowers. A gust of wind had blown, and blue and white petals fell in abundance. At that time, he had been lying in the hollow tree stump covered with green grass, relaxing in the sunshine.

Past and present seem to overlap in this cutscene.

He came to the Garden of the Holy Tomb, silently watching "Qi Leren" sleep in the tree tomb under the starry night with the milky way hanging high above them, and Ning Zhou quietly standing beside "Qi Leren".

From dusk to dawn.

Companionship was always short, but missing could be very long.

This long thought, this long farewell, may take up this person's whole life—if he didn't wake up.

The Holy City was becoming more and more boisterous, and finally it was time to say goodbye.

He saw that Ning Zhou, who had not recovered from his injuries, had picked seven white wild roses and plucked off the thorns one by one, which seemed to be him breaking free from the shackles of his heart one after another, and every bloody thorn pierced his skin.

He was breaking free from his chains, but wasn't he taking off his armor?

This was his farewell to his lover, and also to the faith that dominated the first half of his life. From now on, he would continue to have faith, but he would no longer be accepted by that faith, because he was already a heretic.

When Ning Zhou placed the seven white roses on Qi Leren, his expression told Qi Leren that he had made a decision.

The Qi Leren in front of the screen choked on his breath, and both dry and wet tears stung his skin. They formed a thin layer of frost, and his chest seems to have a fire burning inside it, burning him, tearing his heart, cracking his lungs, an inferno that made him unable to breathe.

On the day of his resurrection, he had seen the withered white roses, but he hadn't seen the man who had carefully cut off every thorn, so even if he was sad, he was full of hope, and he knew that they would meet again one day.

But when this scene that he had never seen before was staged before his eyes, he knew what it was to have pain pierce his heart.

Had he experienced one tenth, one hundredth, one thousandth of Ning Zhou's pain?

But even if it was one tenth, one hundredth, or one thousandth of the pain, once he felt the same way, it was tantamount to torture.

When Ning Zhou had stepped out of the Garden of the Holy Tomb and walked to the cathedral at the highest point of the Vatican, Qi Leren looked at his back; when he knelt in front of the statue of Maria and drew a cross on his chest, Qi Leren looked at the side of his face; when the archangel with blazing wings was summoned to come here, he merged his strength with Ning Zhou, and he held the Sword of Judgment. Ning Zhou also held the virtual Sword of Judgment, and waved it hard in the direction of the rising sun, cutting open this dead field with one slash.

Amid the holy power that filled the sky, the gold and silver spots, and the hymns and music, this church seemed like a heaven on earth.

Qi Leren looked at his lover like a holy angel, but he couldn't help smiling proudly, even though the tears on his face had not dried.

But such a smile only stayed on his face for a moment.

In this glorious destruction, the holy field was touched by the power of the Devil, and the darkness hidden in the abyss was ready to move and quietly come to this pure land. The blazing angel possessed by Ning Zhou was attacked by the power of this dark demon and gradually dissipated, turning into falling feathers all over the sky. The strong wind swept into this world and woke it from its dream.

The power of holiness was cut off, and a red light flashed in his eyes. Ning Zhou covered his face painfully, clutching the Sword of Judgment and kneeling on the ground.

A narration appeared on the screen, making Qi Leren fall into ice:

[The child of the Lord of Destruction and the Holy Nun returned to the place where the story began, ending the Holy Nun’s life regret. These lovers, who once shared the same ideals and explored the mysteries of the world together, ended tragically. The power of destruction and the power of protection were doomed to clash. Perhaps, when chasing the ultimate source of power, whether a saint or a demon, you will eventually get lost in power and forget yourself...]

[A new destructive force has begun to wake, will he repeat the same mistakes? Or is it that a new miracle is faintly brewing in his body...]

Qi Leren collapsed in his chair, staring at the narration disappearing from the screen.

He thought that this world was crazy.

Otherwise, how could it treat Ning Zhou like this?

How could this gentle, kind-hearted believer who had devoted his whole life to fighting the Devils be a descendant of a Devil? And the power of that Devil was awakening in him...

Could Ning Zhou accept it?

Qi Leren trembled, afraid that he would not have the strength.

He couldn't imagine how a devout believer, who had just lost his lover and been excommunicated from the Holy See, could accept this truth. If there was a God in this world, how could He add another whip mark to a scarred person?

God, he has suffered so much pain, why do you want to break his back, so that he can't keep his last faith and pride?

Do you really love him? Have you really loved him? Will the believer not be subjected to irresistible temptations, and his faith in you will help him overcome these temptations. Isn't that what is written in the Canon?

Qi Leren couldn't say anything. He was just a passerby watching this tragedy happen, but he couldn't say a word.

This task had come to an end. After evacuating the residents of the Holy City and watching them follow the people of the Holy See to the distant Neverland, Qi Leren got on the aircraft and once again returned to the Village of Dusk. Here, he was faced with another choice: whether to follow Ning Zhou to continue the next task, or to stay in the Village of Dusk.

Without a doubt, Qi Leren chose to follow Ning Zhou.

Ning Zhou returned to Neverland. He wanted to go back to the Holy See and confess his decision to the Pope. Qi Leren waited for him at the Holy See’s stronghold outside Neverland, waiting three days and three nights.

The wind on the tundra was cold, and in the long polar night, the aurora brightened the sky in a mighty display. Qi Leren stood at the top of the valley and looked at the boundless world of ice and snow in the distance, but this beautiful scenery made him feel desperate.

He knew Ning Zhou would come out from the world that had once sheltered him and imprisoned him, but the fate imposed on him didn’t know what compassion was, and it would lead him to another bloody world, which was even more cruel than any before.

He was such a good person, but he bore such a cruel future, a future that could destroy his will.

His life seemed to be cursed, and he kept losing, and losing again, until there was nothing left to lose… When he was a teenager, he had lost his only relative, and when he grew up, he had lost his lover, and even the land of eternity that filled his soul had closed the door to him, even in the distant future, he would even lose himself.

The Passerby on the screen looked at the snow with a straight face, but the Qi Leren outside the screen burst into tears.

When you love someone, even if he is wronged only a little, it makes you feel too distressed.

His yearning heart could no longer be suppressed, and Qi Leren impatiently wanted to fly to Ning Zhou now, give him a hug, and tell him—at least he hasn't lost him yet.

Three days later, Ning Zhou returned, and they boarded the aircraft again, flying to the distant Sea of Tranquility desert and heading for the Underground Ant City.

At dawn, the sunshine outside the window fell on Ning Zhou's face through thick glass, and Qi Leren looked at him quietly. He did not tell him the story of "Qi Leren", as if he had forgotten that he had this deep love.

It seemed that he was neither sad nor forlorn, as if he had cured himself.

This calmness was a sort of despair.

On the 29th day after the task of the Holy Nun, Qi Leren, who had triggered the second part of the main task but was forced to part ways with Ning Zhou, got a system prompt:

[Party member Ning Zhou has died.]

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[heirxann]

{ 🎧 8) }

WE’RE GONNA GO BACK IN TIME // Selectively Accepting! // @kernprovinz 🎧: Young Teen (13-15 yrs)

     “ Are you sure about this? ” This was perhaps the hundredth time she had asked that question, but she wanted to be sure. One of them needed to be sure. And Aileen had never been so unsure in her life, but she tried to push it all away. Yet, the intense guilt she felt in the pit of her stomach never quite went away.

     Miloslava was her friend. Not by a document signed by her flimsy government, not through her brother and his empire, but by choice. Milo was her friend by choice; and Aileen wanted to trust her, but she still had some reservations about what they were doing. Her main concern being that they were deliberately skipping bible studies in order to go to the market. That was strike number one. Not for Miloslava, of course. She could do no wrong in Aileen’s eyes, but she knew that God was in constant watch of them. The looming fear of being struck down by the almighty terrified Aileen.

                                    But she still came to the market anyway.

      She held on to Milo’s arm the whole time. Her German was not quite perfected yet. She made very minor mistakes these days, but she still made them nonetheless. Regardless, she knew Milo wouldn’t judge her for this. She didn’t exactly regret sneaking over either, even if they were now avoiding bible study. Although, she wouldn’t admit it ever, she was happy to not study the bible for once. Despite the guilt she felt, she was happy to be away from the church.

             She was tired of the same old hymns and mantras.

                                                                                                 She was tired of God.

     The bustling market place was soon enough keeping Aileen’s mind off everything. It was still so odd, seeing so many people in one place. People that were actually getting along for the most part. Their shouts were not angry like they were back home, but it was a harmonious sound of people chatting among themselves as well as talking over one another. Her green eyes wandered from person to person, the girl seemingly in awe of everything and everyone. People getting along, living their lives and not in an eternal power struggle… It’s how she imagined peace to be, but she knew better. She knew that was never peace in large empires.

                                      She was starting to learn that the hard way.

     “ Oh! What were you plannin’ on buyin’ today anyway? Must be really special if we’re skippin’ bible study to come here… ” Aileen said, finally loosening up as she smiled over at her blonde friend. If they were going to the market, they at least had to buy something, right? That was her reasoning behind it at least.

               And even if they didn’t buy anything… She was just happy to be with Miloslava.

[marie1-kersaint]

 Old Hundredth Psalm Tune

Westminster Choir-Princeton, NJ

Favorite Hymns And Anthems

Praise To The Lord The Almighty

Choir of Kings College, Cambridge

Best Loved Hymns

Great Is Thy Faithfulness

National Christian Choir

Psalms, Hymns, and Spiritual Songs

Be Strong In The Lord

Tom Fettke and Dave Williamson Singers

The Best Of Tom Fettke

FAMILYRADIO.ORG 8005431495 24/7

Have MercySandra McCrackenPsalms

Not For Tongues Of Heavens Angels

Calvin College Alumni Choir

He Has The Power

[pope-francis-quotes]

22nd September >> (@zenitenglish) #PopeFrancis #Pope Francis: It’s a Source of Joy & Hope to Begin This Pilgrimage to the Baltic Countries in Lithuania,’ Says #PopeInLithuania #PopeinBaltics Addresses Authorities, Members of Civil Society and Diplomatic Corps in Lithuania

‘It’s a Source of Joy & Hope to Begin This Pilgrimage to the Baltic Countries in Lithuania,’ Says Pope

Pope Addresses Authorities, Members of Civil Society and Diplomatic Corps in Lithuania

(Deborah Castellano Lubov @zenitenglish)

Pope Francis arrived in Lithuania this morning, beginning his four-day trip to the Baltic Nations of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, with an address to government authorities and other leaders of society.

Here is the Vatican translation of his address:

__

Madam President, Members of Government and of the Diplomatic Corps, Representatives of Civil Society, Distinguished Authorities, Ladies and Gentlemen,

It is a source of joy and hope to begin this pilgrimage to the Baltic countries in Lithuania, which is, in the words of Saint John Paul II, “a silent witness of a passionate love for religious freedom” (Welcome Ceremony, Vilnius, 4 September 1993).

I thank you, Madam President, for your cordial words of welcome in your own name and that of your people. In addressing you, I wish to greet in the first place the entire Lithuanian people, who today open to me the doors of their homes and of their homeland. To all of you I express my affection and sincere gratitude.

This visit takes place at a particularly important moment in your life as a nation, for you celebrate this year the centenary of your declaration of independence.

It has been a century marked by your bearing numerous trials and sufferings: detentions, deportations, even martyrdom. Celebrating the hundredth anniversary of independence means taking time to stop and revive the memory of all those experiences. In this way, you will be in touch with everything that forged you as a nation, and thus find the key to assessing present challenges and looking to the future in a spirit of dialogue and unity with all those who dwell here, careful to ensure that no one remains excluded. Each generation is challenged to make its own the struggles and achievements of the past, and to honour in the present the memory of all those who have gone before. We do not know what tomorrow bring, yet we do know that each age has the duty to cherish the “soul” that created it and helped it to turn every situation of sorrow and injustice into opportunity, preserving alive and healthy the roots that nurtured the fruits we enjoy today. Truly, this people has a strong “soul” that enables it to hold fast and to keep building! This is the prayer voiced in your national hymn: “May your sons draw strength and vigour from your past experience”, so as to face the present with courage.

“May your sons draw strength and vigour from your past experience”

Throughout its history, Lithuania was able to shelter, receive and accept peoples of various ethnic groups and religions. All found a place to live in this land – Lithuanians, Tartars, Poles, Russians, Belarusians, Ukrainians, Armenians, Germans … Catholics, Orthodox, Protestants, Old Catholics, Muslims, Jews – lived together in peace until the arrival of totalitarian ideologies that, by sowing violence and lack of trust, undermined its ability to accept and harmonize differences. To draw strength from the past is to recover those roots and keep alive all that continues to be most authentic and distinctive about you, everything that enabled you to grow and not succumb as a nation: tolerance, hospitality, respect and solidarity.

If we look at the world scene in our time, more and more voices are sowing division and confrontation – often by exploiting insecurity or situations of conflict – and proclaiming that the only way possible to guarantee security and the continued existence of a culture is to try to eliminate, cancel or expel others. Here you Lithuanians have a word of your own to contribute: “welcoming differences”. Through dialogue, openness and understanding, you can become a bridge between Eastern and Western Europe. This is the fruit of a mature history, which you as a people can offer to the international community and to the European Community in particular. You have suffered “in the flesh” those efforts to impose a single model that would annul differences under the pretence of believing that the privileges of a few are more important than the dignity of others or the common good. As Benedict XVI rightly pointed out: “to desire the common good and strive towards it is a requirement of justice and charity … The more we strive to secure a common good corresponding to the real needs of our neighbours, the more effectively we love them” (Caritas in Veritate, 7). All conflicts presently emerging will find lasting solutions only if those solutions are grounded in the concrete recognition of [the dignity of] persons, especially the most vulnerable, and in the realization that all of us are challenged “to broaden our horizons and see the greater good which will benefit us all” (Evangelii Gaudium, 235).

In this sense, to draw strength from the past is to pay attention to the young, who are not only the future but also the present of this nation, if they can remain attached to the roots of the people. A people in which young persons can find room for growth and for employment, will help them feel that they have a leading role to play in building up the social and communitarian fabric. This will make it possible for all to lift their gaze with hope to the future. The Lithuania of which they dream will depend on tireless efforts to promote policies that encourage the active participation of young people in society. Doubtless, this will prove a seed of hope, for it will lead to a dynamic process in which the “soul” of this people will continue to generate hospitality: hospitality towards the stranger, hospitality towards the young, towards the elderly, who are the living memory, towards the poor, and, ultimately, hospitality towards the future.

I assure you, Madam President, that you can continue to count on the efforts and the cooperation of the Catholic Church, so that this land can fulfil its vocation as land that serves as bridge of communion and hope.

[Original: Italian]

© Copyright – Libreria Editrice Vaticana

SEPTEMBER 22, 2018 15:01

PAPAL TRIPS

[bandstolookup]

kenshi yonezu

the oral cigarettes

LiSA

YUI

nightmare

ikimonogakari

UVERworld

ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION

hello sleepwalkers

mrs. GREEN APPLE

BLUE ENCOUNT

linked horizon

lenny code fiction

BRADIO

pornograffitti

ORANGE RANGE

the gazettE

shoko nakagawa

FLOW

mika nakashima

amamiya sora

seika oomori

須田景凪

KANA-BOON

ryokuoushoku shakai

hiroaki tommy tominaga

CHEMISTRY

tragicômico

sukima switch

MAN WITH A MISSION

SPYAIR

flumpool

l'arc-en-ciel

SCANDAL

GARNiDELiA

cinema staff

KISIDA KYODAN & THE AKEBOSI ROCK...

tommy heavenly🐑

y. chang

nik kershaw

L-train

dan avidan

super guitar bros

jacob collier

cake

dave grohl

jamie n commons

cinema for the blind

the animals

dire straits

colony house

the mars volta

probii

fifth phoenix

thedooo

the weepies

JAWNY

deb talan

steve tannen

ian magee

reflekt

onumi

atlas personality

harbrook

boardateers

the velvet futon club

frankie lee

vennum

retrakx

nylon

blue street

astro james

jukebox the ghost

the orange sunshine band

griffin holtby

coldrain

ryo

crystal lake

plini

真山りか

myles kennedy and the conspirators

gray falls

altars

ambassadors of shalom

and then there were none

ark of the covenant

artifex pereo

as hell retreats

as they sleep

the ascendicate

at the throne of judgment

attalus

august burns red

becoming the archetype

becoming saints

before their eyes

behold the kingdom

being as an ocean

beloved

benea reach

the convalescence

besieged

betraying the martyrs

the blamed

blenderhead

blessed by a broken heart

bloodshed

bloodline severed

bloodlined calligraphy

the blue letter

born blind

brandtson

intervals

the oral cigarettes

polyphia

a bullet for pretty boy

burden of a day

burn it down

darkness divided

day of vengeance

dead poetic

dear ephesus

toska

debtor

demon hunter

dependency

destroy the runner

disciple

divide the sea

dizmas

dogwood

doomsday hymn

dynasty

earth groans

east west

edison glass

embodiment 12:14

embodyment

emery

enlow

eso-charis

everdown

every day life

every knee shall bow

everything in slow motion

extol

falling cycle

fallstar

the famine

fasedown

few left standing

fight the fury

figure four

final surrender

fit for a king

flee the seen

focal point

focused

for all eternity

for the fallen dreams

for today

foreknown

forever changed

foreveratlast

forevermore

further seems forever

the gentleman homicide

gideon

glass casket

grace like winter

the great commission

gwen stacy

hands

the handshake murders

headnoise

hearts like lions

here i come falling

a hill to die upon

the hoax

hope for the dying

hopesfall

hotel books

hundredth

i am alpha and omega

i am empire

i am terrified

i, the breather

impending doom

in the midst of lions

inhale exhale

inked in blood

ironwill

islander

ivoryline

jamie's elsewhere

jawbone

jesus wept

judgement x day

the juliana theory

justifide

kids in the way

kingston falls

lament

love lola love

leaders

left out

letters to the exiles

life in your way

living sacrifice

lucerin blue

tristian workman

lust control

luti-kriss

manafest

maranatha

maylene and the sons of disaster

means

memphis may fire

metanoia

mindrage

misery chastain

mortal treason

mortification

my heart to fear

mychildren mybride

nailed promise

new waters

ninety pound wuss

no innocent victim

nobody special

nodes of ranvier

norma jean

nothing til blood

officer negative

oh, sleeper

the old-timers

once nothing

one bad pig

the ongoing concept

onward to olympas

the out circuit

overcome

the overseer

forfeit thee untrue

P.O.D.

a past unknown

phinehas

pillar

platoon 1107

a plea for purging

point of recognition

poured out

project 86

R.A.I.D.

raid

rapture

the red baron

remembrance

remove the veil

rival choir

rod laver

saints never surrender

saving grace

scarlet

scaterd few

see the rise

seemless

selfmindead

sent by ravens

serianna

seventh star

sever your ties

silent planet

sinai beach

since remembered

six feet deep

sleeping by the riverside

sleeping giant

society's finest

solus deus

sovereign strength

spirit and the bride

spitfire

spoken

stand your ground

staple

stars are falling

stavesacre

joy downer

still breathing

still remains

strengthen what remains

stretch arm strong

strongarm

symphony in peril

take it back!

tantrum of the muse

ten 33

terminal

texas in july

the lesser known saints

these hearts

thin ice

this beautiful republic

this is hell

this or the apocalypse

those who fear

thousand foot krutch

demise of eros

a thousand times repent

through solace

times of grace

to speak of wolves

training for utopia

trenches

twelve gauge valentine

unashamed

undercover

war of ages

warlord

we the gathered

the wedding

what we do in secret

with blood comes cleansing

with increase

wolves at the gate

wovenwar

wrench in the works

[alrightcomputer]

Music saved my life.

Music saved my life. The first song I remember truly moving me was Amazing Grace. My great Aunt was the church organist for 50+ years until her husband passed and she began to show signs of Alzheimer's after she had to live on her own for the first time in 60+ years. One of my last memories of her is so surreal, I will never forget it. Her son was in town packing up her belongings in preparation to move her closer to where his family lived, into an assisted living facility. He asked me to help and I of course said yes. How could I say no to one of the sweetest lil’ ladies in my life. She baked me chocolate pie on every birthday as far back as I can remember, including the one I’d had that year, Alzheimer's and all. She still remembered and had everything she needed already stocked in the cupboards. We figured out that something might be wrong when she would go to the grocery store and buy the same list she had on her refrigerator almost every day, cook for two and wait for her husband to get home. My heart couldn’t take it when i saw 50 boxes of chocolate pudding and probably 100+ cans of green beans. The grocery store just figured she was cooking for families in need at our church. She always brought green bean casserole to potlucks and family dinners. (My favorite) She loved me, and I loved her. Jump back to moving day, almost the entire house is packed up, less a few boxes of this and that kind of stuff that we weren’t sure what to do with yet. The living room in her ranch style house completely empty except for her grand piano, white walls, white carpet, white ceiling, and these three tall backed leather bound chairs from the old Masonic lodge. She sat in the piano, I sat in the middle chair at the other end of the room and she began to play hymns. “Oh Nick! What are you doing here?” “I’m here to help you move Georgia.” Her son was so upset and frustrated at this point, but she was so happy to hear the answer every time she asked. It was the least I could do to have the same conversation 20 times an hour. “Oh my, thank you so much! Where are we going again?” “Denver I believe, all the way up the mountains!” She plays Go Tell It On the Mountain. “What is your favorite hymn? I’ll play it for you.” “Amazing Grace” “That’s one of my favorites too!” She began playing and singing, four verses. I choked down tears and tried to take in how beautiful this moment was. She finished and her son came into the room and said that it was time to go to the hotel. I helped him load up the last few boxes in the truck while she asked if they were going to bring her piano (probably for the one hundredth time). He explained with at much patience as he could muster that there wouldn’t be room in the truck or in her new place. My heart fell a little further down, but I had that memory, and that was worth more than gold. I said goodbye, knowing that would probably be the last time I saw her. Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.

[bite-chew-blog]

Babette’s Feast - movie review

           The 1987 Danish film Babette’s Feast, directed by Gabriel Axel, follows the story of Martine and Philippa, two elderly sisters living in a small village in 19th century Denmark. As the daughters of a Protestant pastor who founded his own branch of the church and spurned any suitors, they never married, and their lives are now dominated by the church. However, they are rattled by the sudden appearance of Babette, a refugee from Paris, who is looking for work in exchange for lodging. Martine and Philippa take Babette on as their cook, and she proceeds to work for them for the next 14 years.

           One day, Babette wins a lottery of 10,000 francs, and instead of keeping the money or using it to return to Paris, Babette decides to use it to prepare a “real French dinner” for the sisters and their congregation in celebration of their father’s hundredth birthday. Unbeknownst to the sisters, Babette spends her whole fortune on the lavish, multi-course feast to truly show her appreciation to the sisters who took her in so long ago. However, Martine and Philippa worry that the meal will be a sinful decadence, and they plan to deliberately forgo any pleasure in its consumption. To add to the tension of the meal, Martine’s boisterous former French suitor Lorens, now a prominent general and member of the royal court, joins the somber group who are committed to not enjoying the meal. As each course arrives, however, Lorens is delighted by the splendor and the quality of the food, and, though they are resisting, the conservative congregation can be seen enjoying the meal as well. As the effects of the alcohol and the magnificent meal continue to infringe on the congregation’s plans of conservatism, we see a gradual but marked shift in their demeanor – smiles are shared, wrongs are forgiven, stories are told, and Lorens and Martine are even seen to rekindle their old love.

           After the transcendental feast has past, Martine and Philippa assume that Babette will return to Paris. Babette then not only tells the sisters of her true poverty and intentions to stay, but reveals that she was formerly the head chef of the famous Café Anglais in Paris, the same café which Lorens spoke so highly of during the meal. Babette expresses her gratitude to the bewildered sisters, and they embrace tearfully.

           Babette’s Feast weaves many of the themes discussed by Margaret Visser in her book The Rituals of Dinner into the storyline. The importance of dinner etiquette and prescribed table manners are clear. Martine, clearly the matriarch of the congregation as well as the hostess, sits at the head of the table in the place which would otherwise be reserved for the most prominent male in attendance. Additionally, Martine plans for 12 dinner guests – the luckiest number of dinner guests, according to Visser. The dinner begins with a unison chorus of prayer, the courses are methodically timed and ordered, and the evening ends outside with a hymn, clearly indicating the importance of ritual in producing formal, elevated settings which strengthen social bonds. Furthermore, the group clearly adheres to collective social cues and agreed-upon standards of conduct, as the meal begins in a conservative and collective silence, then shifts gradually as each member agrees to outwardly enjoy themselves.

Ultimately, Babette’s Feast lovingly portrays French cuisine, the transformative power of a delicious meal and a flawless dinner party, and, as Visser writes, reminds us of the integral role which sharing and preparing food can play in our lives.  

[geekprincess26]

Bless Me, Father

Written for Day 3 of Jon x Sansa Fanfiction’s 15 Days of Valentine’s challenge.

Father Samwell Tarly was having a difficult day.

He’d been told by Professor Targaryen on his first day at seminary that a priest’s work would never end or lack for challenges, and that had certainly proven true.  As with every other parish he had served during his relatively short tenure in the clergy, Wintertown had its share of illness, poverty, and various other forms of human misery.  On some days, he would visit half a dozen homes of people who were bedridden or depressed or otherwise in need of advice and prayer, and after that just as many rooms at the county hospital.  On almost as many, he would fall asleep at the dinner table without so much as having taken off his collar for the evening.

But Wintertown, more than any other parish he had served, had also given him unexpected joys.  His parishioners had initially been more suspicious of and less friendly toward him than had those to whom he had ministered in his two prior postings, but once he had won their trust, they had welcomed him warmly.  The library at the parsonage put the collections at his prior parsonages to shame. And to his unexpected delight, Wintertown’s congregation was teeming with young families.  The parents were not so stubborn or set on having things done just as their prior pastor had as were some of the older parishioners Sam had encountered, and the children, to his great surprise, almost all took to him from the start – especially, for some reason, little rascals like Rickon Stark, who much to his older sister’s horror had first greeted Father Sam by tackling him into the mud and roaring ferociously because, he said, he was trying to greet the new priest like a proper northern direwolf.

No, Wintertown was by far Father Sam’s favorite parish so far, and most days there gave him more than enough joy, or at least assurance that he had entered the right profession. Today, however, was not one of those days.  It was the day of the week that he always had set aside to listen to the confessions of any parishioner willing to give them.  This was not always a bad thing, for Wintertown was small, and sometimes the young priest would spend an hour or more reading one of the many volumes in his library while waiting for his next visitor.  Today, though, he had a head cold and had awakened later than usual, and then only to the jangling of his telephone.  Old Mrs. Mordane’s husband was dying, and so Father Sam had no chance to so much as brush his teeth before he threw on his clothes and headed out the door.  While at the hospital, he had encountered the Mormont family, whose youngest daughter, Lyanna, had just fallen from a tree and been brought into the emergency room badly injured.  Naturally, Father Sam had stopped to pray with them.  He was running over an hour late for his confessions by the time he left the hospital, but then his faithful old Ford Model B had finally given out a mile from the church, and he had had to huff and puff all the way there in the rain.  When he finally arrived, it seemed that almost half the town had turned up for confession.

Father Sam spent the next several hours huddled miserably but faithfully in the confessional booth. By the time Miss Sansa Stark, none other than the previously horrified older sister of young Rickon, arrived to make her confession, he was hungry and thirsty, and irritated to boot.  His irritation was increased, strangely enough, by the fact that he knew her confession would be boring, for Miss Stark was not much of a sinner.  She taught the second grade at Wintertown’s sole school, and students and parents alike loved her, for she was gentle and kind and always had a smile even for her most mischievous students.  She had raised her three younger siblings singlehandedly after the deaths of their parents and elder brother in a terrible automobile accident, and by all accounts she did a wonderful job, Rickon’s shenanigans notwithstanding.  She even baked cookies for catechism class.  And yet Miss Stark felt herself a rather sinful person, for every week without fail for the past year and a half, she had confessed that she struggled with lustful thoughts toward Dr. Jon Snow, the other half of Father Sam’s biggest dilemma – and also Father Sam’s only remaining parishioner still waiting to have his confession heard.  

Father Sam had long suspected that most of the young ladies of Wintertown, had they been as sensitive as Miss Stark, would have confessed that they too had lustful thoughts toward the handsome young physician.  His black curls, piercing brown eyes, and brooding demeanor gave him the aura of a hero straight out of one of the historical novels that were all the rage among young ladies these days.  However, he had never encouraged any of the young ladies in their affections; in fact, he had seemed more or less oblivious to their intentions.  The only young lady of whom he had ever taken any real notice was Miss Stark.  Father Sam was more keenly aware of this even than the most sharp-eyed of his parishioners, although it was obvious to more than half the congregation at this point, even if nobody spoke of it openly.  It would not take a sharp pair of eyes, after all, to see the way Dr. Snow shifted that brooding gaze toward Miss Stark while singing a hymn, or to notice the way that gaze softened whenever he did so.  Nor did it take too much intelligence to see the pink tint that spread across Miss Stark’s porcelain face when Dr. Snow helped her into his automobile, which he used to transport the four Starks to and from church every Sunday, or when he let Rickon climb all over him and cover his nice clothes in dirt for the hundredth time and tell an abashed Miss Stark that really, it was no trouble at all.  And anyone who could see out of one eye could also see the smile that lit up Dr. Snow’s face every week when he helped Father Sam prepare for catechism class and saw Miss Stark walk into the room with her cookies.

Even if Father Sam had seen none of this, he heard plain evidence of it.  For one thing, two of Miss Stark’s three siblings, Miss Arya Stark and Master Brandon Stark, were old enough for the confessional booth themselves, and more than once each of them had confessed to wanting to smack their older sister over the head for being not only oblivious to Dr. Snow’s affections, but also idiotic enough to believe she did not deserve such a fine man. Furthermore, every week like clockwork Dr. Snow entered the confessional booth and admitted to having lustful thoughts for Miss Stark.  Father Sam would shake his head behind the curtain, for Dr. Snow was always quick to say he would take such thoughts to his grave rather than bother Miss Stark with unwanted attentions, even if those attentions were to take the honorable form of a request for courtship, or even a marriage proposal.  In fact, when Father Sam would mildly mention that the kindnesses the young doctor bestowed on Miss Stark were evidence of care and generosity, not depravity, and even suggest that Dr. Snow might find his conscience relieved if he were to ask Miss Stark for a chance to show just how honorable his intentions were, Dr. Snow would only shake his head in that brooding way of his and remark about how much better Miss Stark deserved.

It was at those moments that Father Sam experienced some of his least priestly inclinations, for he wished then to smack some sense into the other man, or at least give him a fine scolding.  On occasion, he had had the most wicked temptation to open his mouth when one of them was in the confessional and reveal the other’s exact feelings.  But that, of course, would be a violation of one of his most sacred duties, which was to keep his parishioners’ confessions in the strictest confidence.  Not even a judge or man of the law, even during the investigation of a crime, could be required to force Father Sam to speak of what Dr. Snow, Miss Stark, or indeed anybody else told him once seated in that consecrated booth.

This matter, however, was not a criminal one nor even a case of a mortal sin, and Father Sam had begun to wonder of late whether it would also be a sin to deny two people like Dr. Snow and Miss Stark their chance at finding happiness and love, which, after all, were two of God’s greatest gifts to the human race.  So when Miss Stark entered his confessional on that wet and miserable night and Father Sam heard the sound of tears creeping into her voice, his irritation fell away in a heartbeat, and in between the sniffles, he felt an idea begin to form at the back of his mind.  By the time he had finished hearing Dr. Snow’s weekly bout of sighing and self-loathing, it had become a plan.

A few weeks later, Miss Stark brought her usual batch of chocolate chip cookies to catechism class. Father Sam announced to his young students that this week they would be studying the subject of love.  As Miss Stark and Dr. Snow, whom Father Sam had politely requested assist her, quietly set out the cookies at the back of the classroom, he asked his students to discuss instances of people around them showing love to each other.  Young Rickon Stark immediately raised his hand, and Father Sam was only too happy to call on him.

Rickon rose to his feet and stood next to his desk.  “My sister Sansa loves my brother and sister and me,” he said, “because she cooks dinner for us and talks me and Arya out of fighting and takes us to see Dr. Snow when we get sick.”  Oblivious to the blush rising in his sister’s cheeks, he continued.  “And she loves Dr. Snow because she lets him read the books she borrows from the library and helps him smile when she brings us in to see him.” Ignoring the identical flush that had swept across Dr. Snow’s face, he said, “And Dr. Snow loves her.  He opens doors for her, like a gentleman does, and says nobody is as intelli-intellectual and kind and pretty as she is.  He offers to drive her home from school when the weather’s bad.  And he smiles at her when she’s not looking.  And I think he ought to marry her.”

He sat back down, and Father Sam had to hand it to the boy for not grinning like a Cheshire cat at his sister and the doctor, who had each flushed a bright shade of scarlet.  After perhaps five seconds, which seemed to stretch on for five years, Dr. Snow turned not just his eyes, but his whole head toward Miss Stark.  Not one moment later, she mirrored his action.  She quickly looked down at the floor, but a few seconds later Dr. Snow whispered something unintelligible, and Miss Stark looked shyly back up at him. He said something else, and she nodded and followed him out of the room.

Father Sam beamed at Rickon Stark and took out his Bible to begin the rest of the class.  It opened to the spot he had bookmarked the previous night, and his eyes fell on the beginning of Psalm 8:2: “Out of the mouths of babes…”.

One year later, Father Sam looked at that passage again and smiled.  It was one of the Scripture verses they had chosen for him to read at their wedding.

[pastordisastah]

The Old Hundredth

In 1560, William Kethe composed a hymn entitled “All People That on Earth Do Dwell” for the Scottish Psalter. Kethe is widely acknowledged to have translated the 100th Psalm and set it to a metre.  This translation/song would soon be put to a tune composed by Louis Bourgeois, and together this would become the hymn sung by many traditions over the last several centuries. English composer Arthur…