Our week was a filled with friends from out of town, a family-day poetry reading at our son’s school, and an international evening, which featured a Haitian dance with Mark Anthony's comrades on stage. Taken by Mark Anthony's poetry reading, and since our daily Lenten practice had fallen off a bit, we decided to do our noticing of God's presence through poetry. Mark Anthony's poem about dad shows his admiration as well as the fact that he notices quite a bit about what his father does. (There is no poem about his mother, but I can hope, at least, that another muse will call one out someday. ) --kbj

Things to Do if You Are a Priest
Write a sermon
Take some trips
Go to hospitals and jail
Give me lots of bread
Go on TV
Write books
And get them published
At six o'clock you pray
At the first light
--Mark Anthony Bozzuti-Jones

Mark Sr.'s poem centered on noticing the two fantastic flower buds in our home -- just waiting to burst into life. One is an amaryllis I had given Mark as a gift some time ago; I admit, I've been noticing its floppy, ugly leaves for quite a while and have been tempted to show it the door more than once. But Mark knew differently... and he wrote a poem about it:

Two Plants Blooming
In our apartment
the plants surprised
To delighted and un-expecting eyes:
Behold the blooming
My wife had given me an amaryllis two years ago
It had a flower then
Since then, I have heard,
"Throw it out!"
"It will never bloom again."
And now I noticed
And I showed it to my son
and wife
A bud, a bud -- and
beneath the gentle green
skin -- a sign, a
color of things to come.
And another plant, I do
not know its name.
After three years decided
to flower (it's above the drying machine)
These plants are blooming
in captivity
Wow! and blooming after
a long time...
Noticing is best when
matched with patient
waiting and hope expecting hope.
--Mark F. Bozzuti-Jones

It took me a while to decide on a poem topic, let alone write a poem on demand (it takes me a while to write anything; as a former editor, I can't write three words without returning to change them.) This time, it was different, though. I decided to simply record what I saw and felt on my way to work in poetic prose -- an unedited report of what I usually miss out on, in my daily rushing about:

All God
The way my husband woke us up gently and had
coffee all ready for his staggering wife.

The way our son ate muffins and oatmeal
and then asked for the 'heart-healthy' cereal in my bowl,
(the cure for middle-age hypochondria,) before I'd taken a bite.
And then asked for the wheat toast I was going to eat instead.
I felt like a mother bird.
Only not regurgitating my breakfast.

The way my hands felt when I forgot to put cream on
them, crunchy, at that final moment before flying from the house
to beat the clanging bell in the school yard. 

The way a tiny perching bird caught our attention.
It stopped and stared at us on a fence not six inches away,
causing our son to ponder whether he had been
mistaken for St. Francis.

The way the shadows walked with me
and away from me, as I faced into the sun
on my way to the subway; some were being pushed along;
others trailed behind.

The way graffiti nearly leapt off the mailboxes
as I passed. Brilliant colors of pink and white and
turquoise, making them look more like art than prank.
I'd wished I'd had my camera.

The way the train arrived just as I descended the last
step. Just for me. And a free seat, too. No sweaty jostling.
So that I could sit down and think a bit.

The way my homework was niggling at my brain,
still undone, and little chance of being finished
before the next class meeting.

The way a small baby girl laughed out loud
on her mother's knee, surrounded by sour commuter faces,
cranky or tired -- and oblivious Kindle readers.

The way a man stared at me on the train
and kept staring as if I hadn't stares back, challenging,
as I listened to Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah"
on my Ipod. He stared again. I stared him down again.

The way a piece of hair was stuck on my dry
cuticle and refused to let go as I made some notes
for my work day. And my second toe rubbed against my shoe
as usual.

The way I could tell we'd arrived at Grand Central
without even checking the signal or listening
to the announcement. And the man continued
to stare. (I think I watch too many detective programs.)

The way my three and four-year old students
made me laugh when they wanted to discuss
the Big Bang theory and humans descending
from primates, as I read them the Creation story.

The way that being on time for school drop off
and pickup framed my day, again, and hindered my noticing.
And how it transformed into joy, again, when I saw the face
of a glowing child eager to tell, in great detail,
his sports prowess of the day.

The way I notice how
all this noticing
may or may not be edifying...
Still, I am sure, without a trace of doubt,
that it is all God, the One who never said s/he'd
promised us roses. Just the grace (just!)
to be the unfailing and unconditional lover
in the dailiness of our dailiness.
--Kathy Bozzuti-Jones

Lately, we've been thinking more about noticing God in our creative powers and being intentional, as a family, about making art. We've included some below. The late Mary Daly wrote, "It is the creative potential itself in human beings that is the image of God." Her observation about the gift of creative potential adds a new dimension to our Lenten practice of "just noticing." Actually, I think it adds three dimensions -- noticing the Creator's presence within us -- growing in awareness of ourselves in God's image -- and even recognizing our artwork (however rough-hewn) as reflections of God.

Of course, at seven years old, Mark Anthony isn't necessarily thinking of such things when he puts down a piece of paper and carefully outlines one super-hero after another (unless, perhaps, you count Sunday's drawing of "Thor" bowing down to Jesus on the cross...don't ask.) But time spent with pencil and crayon in hand clearly brings him joy. And the way he "loses himself" when he is creating gives us joy, as parents. I like to imagine that God, too, is pretty joyful at moments like these.

Mark Anthony also reminds us about letting go and turning off the adult perfectionist impulse. To surrender, to play, and enjoy the flow makes artmaking a kind of messy spiritual exercise. Freeing the creative impulse, giving it expression, and seeing where it leads is a wonder too often lost among the duties of family life. But in the act of picking up a paintbrush or a camera or ripping papers for collage, the dishes in the sink and the dirty laundry give way, at least for a while, to a sense of connectedness. To the self. To each other. To God. To others. To notice this sense of connectedness, when it happens, is not easy, but we "catch one" every now and again. And we want to help our son notice when he feels it, too.

He may not need all that much help from us, however. The other night, as we reviewed where we had noticed God in our day, he said, "Well, God is always with me." It sounded like something he may have learned in Sunday School, so I questioned him a bit further about what he meant. He answered in a tone that suggested he couldn't possibly explain -- or maybe that we couldn't possibly understand it. He said, "All I can tell you is that we're kind of in our own world together, God and me."

The great differences in our styles of art-making suggest that he might be onto something! --kbj

Mark Anthony Bozzuti-Jones, mixed media, 2010
This mandala was created for an art exhibit of parents and children exploring the journey of Jesus from the period of his ministry to the events of Holy Week. Mark Anthony chose the colors, objects, and placement, as we talked together about journeys that lead to new life.

Kathy Bozzuti-Jones, digital photography, 2010
There was not a single ramp or small hill that wasn't cordoned off in our neighborhood. It was pathetic and annoying as we dragged our sled from one potentially great spot to another. Finally, I stepped back from the bridge from which we were chased and saw it through a different lens...

Mark F. Bozzuti-Jones, collage, 2010
The figure of Christ and heavenly music stand in contrast to the figure of loss and nakedness in the story of The Fall (shown, here, on either side of the collage.) Mary emerges from the chaos and pain at center, keeping watch with Jesus: "In the morning/When I began to wake,/It happened again...That feeling/That as soon as I began to stir/ You put your lips to my forehead." (Hafiz)

My heart goes out to the people of Chile in their grief and suffering at this time. Natural and political disasters have dealt terrible blows to the people of Chile and the people of Latin America.

Another earthquake. Which country is next? What is most frightening about some kinds of natural disasters is that there is no telling when, how, or where. There is really no way to prepare for them. Natural disasters remind us how vulnerable we all are.

Pablo Neruda, the most famous Chilean poet, wrote a poem about losing his dog. I share it with you (especially for those of you who have pets). Losing a pet, a loved pet, can rip the human heart to pieces. My heart goes out to the people of Chile, and still goes out to the people of Haiti (and the next victims – endless victims—of natural disasters.

A Dog Has Died
My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.

Some day I'll join him right there,
but now he's gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I'll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.

Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth,
of having lost a companion
who was never servile.
His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
withholding its authority,
was the friendship of a star, aloof,
with no more intimacy than was called for,
with no exaggerations:
he never climbed all over my clothes
filling me full of his hair or his mange,
he never rubbed up against my knee
like other dogs obsessed with sex.

No, my dog used to gaze at me,
paying me the attention I need,
the attention required
to make a vain person like me understand
that, being a dog, he was wasting time,
but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
he'd keep on gazing at me
with a look that reserved for me alone
all his sweet and shaggy life,
always near me, never troubling me,
and asking nothing.

Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
as we walked together on the shores of the sea
in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
where the wintering birds filled the sky
and my hairy dog was jumping about
full of the voltage of the sea's movement:
my wandering dog, sniffing away
with his golden tail held high,
face to face with the ocean's spray.

Joyful, joyful, joyful,
as only dogs know how to be happy
with only the autonomy
of their shameless spirit.

There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
and we don't now and never did lie to each other.

So now he's gone and I buried him,
and that's all there is to it. 

--Pablo Neruda

My heart goes out to the people of Chile – hopefully, that is not all there is to it.

Cookie-Shine ritual...Here's how it goes: I say something I noticed, a gift of some kind or something that happened that struck me some way...and I take a bite of a big cookie. Then, I pass the cookie to you and it's your turn. You say something about a gift you've received, a feeling you had or have, a thought or question on your mind -- and then bite and pass the cookie. And so we go around and around the table until the cookie is finished. Half the cookie is brown and half is white. Each chooses where to bite and how big of a bite, one of us taking great big bites of the chocolate side each time.

Mark Anthony began. He noticed how good it felt to have had a friend follow him around to play in the schoolyard; "It felt good to know I have friends"...A brief message from an old friend letting "big" Mark know about a mutual friend who had passed was bittersweet - sweet because of the thoughtfulness...I (Kathy) had received a heartfelt apology from a friend who had disappointed me in the past and felt closure...Mark Anthony said, "I'm thankful for the gift of my mom and my dad caring for me every day of my life;" (mom and dad are thankful to have raised a 'clever' child)...Mark was moved by someone who sought him out for advice...I (Kathy) felt that the encouragement of an artist friend was a gift...and that being awakened by a laughing child was a joy...Mark Anthony noticed feeling lighter now that he forgave Johnny for insulting him (something about "baby-ish" game rules.) He said, "We didn't really talk about it, but the next day we were just friends again"...Mark had been noticing the joy of making art and excitement about some of his photography being featured...When I paused to think on my last turn, Mark Anthony offered to help: "Can I smell your mind so I know?"

Just notice!

Eight days later (don’t you hate days like that?)
After Mr. Rock, aka Simon/Peter, called
Jesus the Christ (got that right)
Jesus took him and the thunder boys (James and John)
Up the mountain to check out the view, aka pray
And while he was praying
(see what can happen when you pray?)
Jesus’ face changed, his clothes dazzled white
Moses and Elijah appeared (I presume from somewhere)
They appeared in glory
They saw his glory
Glory meeting glory: alleluia
Peter and his companions (afraid to list John and James twice?)
Weighed down with sleep (depression was always around)
However, they saw his glory and the two men with him
Not sure if they saw their glory
Did they see their glory?
either way: alleluia
As they were leaving (always pay attention to what people say when they are leaving):
Let us make three dwellings
Then a cloud, then an overshadowing, then terror, then an entering (ooooo)
Then a voice:
This is my Son, my Chosen, Listen to him
If you are not listening after all this then…
Jesus was found alone by the lost disciples
They kept silent and told no one

Man, the things that happened in those days…

The Christian Life: wonder if there is any way of faking it? Do you think people set out to fake the Christian life deliberately? DO you think it is nature or nurture? Are some people just genuinely cool, good, holy, peaceful, calm and ethical? Are some people just depressed, prone to lines, prone to cheating, prone to deceptive actions, cynical, disturbed and or evil? By the way remember the words of Jesus (and the reversals in Luke: rich/poor; first/last; lost/found -- life is never what we see on the inside or outside).

Funny, the hardest place to work these days is in a church. Good Lord. I meet so many parishioners, clergy, and volunteers who have had it: about to quit or on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “It is like a jungle sometimes, makes you wonder how I keep from going under.”
This is life and the Christian life is no different. People feel like this in every time and place – I am not making this up. LOL.

Viagra: I know I have your attention with this one. I get ten email offers for this every day. And talking to a nun friend of mine the other day, she also gets them and various other offers to become “larger than life.” And Viagra offers are only outdone by “pain killers”. Is it that hard out there? I mean – oh dear? LOL. 

Spandex: Yes, these days you can have the body you want. There is a whole market now of spandex clothing for men. We all can look firm, look fit, look buffed, look developed, look sexy, look dazzling (white?) – just don’t ever take off your clothes. There was a woman in my sponsoring parish in Massachusetts who used to say of her female neighbors, “She has gone to lump!” I should have said, “Spandex offers salvation.”

Transfiguration: It happened at prayer or after prayer or during prayer. It happened before the disciples fell asleep or maybe it prevented them from falling asleep. And then it was accompanied by the voice of God. Maybe the transfiguration happened while Jesus was being himself or maybe it was just what was needed for him to be himself.

Luckily, we have high grain cereals, vitamins, bottled water, television, drugs (legal, prescribed, illegal and homeopathic), we have plastic surgery, body surgery, spandex, Viagra and when all else fails we have the church and the Christian life. Go transfigure yourself (in and or out).

When the saints go marching in
When the saints go marching in
When you go marching
When the saints go marching in
Lord, I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
When the unpredictable comes
When the unpredictable comes
When the saints go marching in
Lord, I want to be in that number
When the unpredictable comes
When there is no more war
No more sickness
The poor have what they need
Celebrations sing and sing
When you go marching
Lord, I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
Rejoicing drown out tears
When the saints go marching in
No more children dying
No children crying
When the saints go marching in
Lord, I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in

So the president is talking to his enemies, to those who do not agree with him, to those who are different and to those who dislike his policies. He learned that from Jesus. President Obama is doing an excellent thing by having open discussions with Republicans. Now, there is no guarantee that people seeing the same thing will report and believe the same thing. He will win some and lose some. Overall, I think it is a good thing. And I congratulate the president, because that is indeed an act that represents change. Jesus spoke with the sinner, the righteous, the Pharisee and the Sadducees all the time… Why change that?

It is a whole different political world out there. There are some crazy patterns forming reminiscent of things in the past. However, for every movement of darkness, fear, prejudice, and bad behavior there has been a counteracting movement of truth, love, hope and peace. So be not afraid, I say that to myself, too. I need to hear that—that we need not fear—in the midst of rumors and rumors of crashing, warring, losing, hating; yes, rumors of war…

Who dat? Those Saints. Do I say more? Who dat? 144. Thousands more. Who dat? Those Saints. After Katrina? Who dat? Losses and losses. Who dat? Those saints. Katrina leads to celebration. Rejected, unknown, doubted team members – who dat? Dem Saints. Wow. Let that be a lesson for us all. Go folks of that great city and state: Who dat?

Maybe what happened for the Saints can and will happen for the people of Haiti. This is what we believe and this is what we hope. History tells us that reversals exist, and I believe one day Haiti will turn over a new leaf. There will be permanent celebrations of new life… I was just in Boston and had two Haitian taxi drivers. 

The first taxi driver kept saying: “In six seconds, 200,000 people dead. Lord have mercy. I almost died, because my wife was there and for a seven days I did not hear from her. In six seconds, 200,000 people dead.” 

On my way out of Boston, I met the second Haitian taxi driver. He kept saying: “Yes, I lost family. Some live, some die. We all have to die sometime.” 

I am still thinking about both men. Different responses, however, same love for Haiti.
Special shout out to all the artists, storytellers, teachers, poets, songbirds, rappers… all the creative folks. 

 
Peace.

J. D. Salinger’s recent passing, death really, set me to thinking many things. Thomas Hardy said that thought is a disease of the flesh – I have it big time. Cant stop thinking these days. Think about it.

J. D. Salinger – I loved the man, I used to call him the invisible man, because of the way he did not give into the fame and fortune that came from his talent. You mean there was someone who did not want to be famous? There was someone who did not have a desire to be on the front page? There was an author who actually wished he could turn back the hands of time, take back his writing and get away from the madding crowd? (Another Hardy reference. Don’t’ ask me why I am linking the two. I really have no control over my thought process at five on a Sunday afternoon still stuck in my Manhattan office. Ha. I like that. I have never written that, “my Manhattan office.”)

I digress. So J.D. just got off the stage and stayed away…. I say good for him. However, his life makes me think of all the people and places that we who love fame, wealth and power have made invisible. Think of all the non-Lady Gagas of the world who need our attention and we keep making invisible.

• The youth (40% drop out of high school every year and this is across the board: black, white, pink, yellow, green, purple – I have seen them all),
• poor African Americans (increasingly thrown in jails and made more invisible)
• Native Americans (dear God, have we forgotten them)
• Illegal immigrants (these we love to forget, forgetting that all who came to America were once illegal, well, most…)
• Haiti (forgotten before the quake, I say give it a year….)
• The sick (remember the health care debates?)
• The homeless, the stranger, the prisoners, the hungry, the depressed – we turn them into Salingers though they would like to be seen…
• GOD (so invisible – Amazing)

All this aside, are there Christian Salingers out there?: sharp, witty, creative artists, videographers, poets who can talk, write, paint about God in Christ the way the Burn Notice, Cold Case, The Closer, CSI, The Simpsons…Do you know how to make the invisible visible? Do you know how to share the good news in a new and fresh way without it being about you? Would love to hear from you, especially if you are in the New York area.
I am about to withdraw or disappear....

The Reverend Mark Francisco Bozzuti-Jones
Votive for Hope: Prayers for Haiti
January 25, 2010
Sermon
St. Paul’s Chapel, NYC

“Comfort, O comfort my people says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.” Today, we gather to say to our brothers and sisters of Haiti, “Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted ...”

In these words from Isaiah and the gospel, we see the merciful compassion God holds for all peoples.

In times like these, we stand in solidarity and pray with the people of Haiti to God who is Merciful and Compassionate.

As Christians, the suffering and crucified Christ, which is God's experience of suffering and death, helps us to understand the suffering and death in Haiti. Through Jesus Christ we find meaning and mission, we find hope, courage, and life in the midst of tragedy and death.

The pictures and reports from Haiti exist in the wounded and bloodied body of Jesus on the cross; and the cries of the survivors echo the wailing of his mother who watched helplessly as her son was crucified. The innocent Jesus crucified is the same Jesus found in the crushed, broken and bleeding and dead bodies of the people of Haiti.

In the death of Jesus, we learn the proper response to tragedy, we are called to stand in solidarity, to stand in love. Only when we respond in solidarity, only when we commit to taking the broken body of Jesus off the cross, only when we commit to give our all to the people of Haiti, only when we commit to be Good Samaritans to Haiti can we be true followers of Jesus who died and rose triumphant from the dead.

“Comfort, O comfort my people says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.”

There is no honest conversation about the situation in Haiti without an honest overview of Haiti’s history. The God of History calls us to acknowledge the economic, political and racial oppression that have gone on in Haiti for centuries.

No other country has seen the deliberate and concerted effort to see that it remained a failure the way Haiti has.

From the arrival of Columbus, then the French, and the battles that led to Haiti’s independence in 1804, Haiti has been plagued with large scale and deliberate acts of oppression and abuse of power.

Since its independence to present day, it has been made the poorest nation in the world by concerted efforts led by Europe, the United States and many of its own leaders that have led to the impoverishment and suffering of millions and millions of Haitians throughout the centuries. The people of Haiti have been crucified by the world for centuries.

Let it be clear, the death caused by this earthquake pales in comparisons to the millions of Haitians killed by unjust political and economic structures meted out over the centuries. We human beings have done more harm and more suffering and more death to Haitians than any natural disaster has ever done. The earthquake of racism, financial oppression and corruption all at the hands of human beings, colonial powers and world banks have rocked the Haitian people for centuries.

However, in the same way the bloody death of Jesus led to new life. This Haitian crucifixion offers a new beginning, a new hope, a new reckoning, not just for Haitians, not just for us Christians, but for the whole world.

Would to God that we would learn from this how to attend to the poor and the neediest in our world – not just in tragic times.

Death is a part of life. Disasters form part of life. As Christians we are called to commit to working for a world of good, we are called to bring comfort, peace, justice and good news to the poor in their experiences of poverty, disaster and death.

The letter from our Rector and Vicar printed in our bulletin says, “we will be making a long term commitment to this work in Haiti.” Indeed the work to comfort the people of God is a long term commitment. The work to bring comfort and blessings to the people of Haiti is a long term commitment. Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted. It is the Christian imperative to make a long term commitment to those in need.

May this pain, suffering, and death for the people of Haiti lead to a long term commitment of solidarity and hope from the rest of the world. Would to God we learn from this tragedy and come to the aid of all the crucified peoples of this world.

May we work with the people of Haiti in such a way that the word of God, spoken through Christ will become a historic reality: Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted. Amen.

Things we are called to do:
“Comfort” is used in the imperative. Explore ways in which we are called to comfort the poor…
How do we contribute to political, racial and economic oppression?
Learn about the history of the Haitian people
Ask why have they been poor for so long
Give of your time and energy to work for change in policies as they relate to the poor.
See the “crucified Christ” in all who suffer
Do not lose hope.

Give: Trinity-Haiti Relief

Dear Haitian brothers and sisters, we mourn and weep with you. Most people in the world know that tragedy happens and tragedy is a part of life and bad things happen to good people.

Most people in the world know that God has not cursed, abandoned or forgotten you.

Pour le Pays,
Pour la Patrie,
Marchons unis,
Marchons unis.
Dans nos rangs point de traîtres!
Du sol soyons seuls maîtres.
Marchons unis,
Marchons unis

March on proud people, God has not abandoned you. Every person, every place, and even God Almighty has had, has, and will have a day of suffering and mourning. We think of Jesus weeping at the news of Lazarus’ death (he weeps uncontrollably now); we think of Mary weeping at the foot of the cross (she bleeds and weeps now – so out of control.)

Pour le Pays,
Pour la patrie,
Marchons, marchons, marchons unis,
Pour le Pays,
Pour la Patrie

One day I was depressed I could not figure out why – then it dawned on me, that if I could not figure out things in my own life, how in God’s name am I going to figure out the beauty and sorrow in others and in the world. And I am depressed, because I cannot figure out why this happened to you. And I know God is depressed with me or I would no longer believe in God.

Pour les Aïeux, pour la Patrie
Béchons joyeux, béchons joyeux
Quand le champ fructifie
L'âme se fortifie
Béchons joyeux, béchons joyeux
Pour les Aïeux, pour la Patrie
Béchons, béchons, béchons joyeux
Pour les Aïeux, pour la Patrie

Funny how it takes disaster (sometimes) to make us know we are surrounded by Haitians who are priests, politicians, lawyers, doctors, Indian chiefs, babysitters, nurses, lovers, nuns, musicians, cab drivers, parishioners, colleagues, neighbors, friends, saints, saints, saints, saints – brothers and sisters all.

Pour le Pays et pour nos Pères
Formons des Fils, formons des Fils
Libres, forts et prospères
Toujours nous serons frères
Formons des Fils, formons des Fils
Pour le Pays et pour nos Pères
Formons, formons, formons des Fils
Pour le Pays et pour nos Pères

Free, strong and prosperous you all sing in your national anthem. You will be, you are, you will be, you are…. You have made the whole world stop and think and pray and cry and wish and hope for a better world and a better place. And the hopes and fears of all the years are seen in you yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Pour les Aïeux, pour la Patrie
O Dieu des Preux, O Dieu des Preux!
Sous ta garde infinie
Prends nos droits, notre vie
O Dieu des Preux, O Dieu des Preux!
Pour les Aïeux, pour la Patrie
O Dieu, O Dieu, O Dieu des Preux
Pour les Aïeux, pour la Patrie

Does the world know that you sing to God in your Anthem? Does the world know that you cling to God in your Anthem? Does the world know you call God valiant, noble, bold, courageous and strong in your Anthem? May God be all that and more. May the world know that your children sing to God everyday. May you hear God hovering over every wounded heart, every piercing cry of pain, all the confusion, all the destruction…… May you hear God singing a love song to you: a love song that brings peace, consolation and new life…

Pour le Drapeau, pour la Patrie
Mourir est beau, mourir est beau!
Notre passé nous crie:
Ayez l'âme aguerrie!
Mourir est beau, mourir est beau
Pour le Drapeau, pour la Patrie
Mourir, mourir, mourir est beau
Pour le Drapeau, pour la Patrie

These are your own words of your great People and Anthem. I end with them:
For the flag,
For our country
To die is a fine thing!
Our past cries out to us:
Have a disciplined soul!
To die is a fine thing,
For the flag,
For our country.

WE LOVE YOU AND WE ARE WITH YOU.

Feature image courtesy of carrib via Flickr