mgpcpastor's blog

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More Felicity

A little video from Wednesday night for those who aren’t closer.
Lights in the room were dimmed.

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Footy Tipping 2015 – NRL Round 25 / AFL Round 22

How can there be only two nights a week when there’s no football.
Fremantle almost held out, Port showed why this season has been a waste for them, Geelong don’t deserve to be in finals, and Melbourne have a long, long way to go.
NRL holds up its grand tradition of being a shamozzle.

NRL (last round 4/8; season tally 103/176)
Brisbane (although this is a Souths ‘on’ week)
North Queensland
Wests (I don’t know why)
Saint George

AFL (last round 5/9; season tally 126/180)
Geelong (Only because Collingwood are untippable)
Greater Western Sydney (at home)
North Melbourne
Port Adelaide
West Coast

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Joy Of The Lord – Rend Collective

Since I was on a day-trip (more like two-and-a-half-hour stopover) in Melbourne, and Koorong were doing 20% off, and I was more or less passing by, I thought I might as well follow through my plan and get Rend Collective’s new album As Family We Go.
It does sound a little less folky, and they lyrics probably aren’t as strong. More grabs of lyrics put together than a song themes developed. But I’ve got to listen a bit more.
Here’s Joy Of The Lord, which seems indicative of the whole.
There are numbers of other youtube tracks featuring lyrics and chords at their youtube channel.

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Gathered At The Edge Of Town

From Marilynne Robinson’s Lila, an aspect of our local life that I also look upon from outside:

…she took the bag of clothes and walked up to the cemetery. There was the grave of the John Ames who died as a boy, with a sister Martha on one side and a sister Margaret on the other. She had never really though about the way the dead would gather at the edge of a town, all their names spelled out so you’d know whose they were for as long as that family lived in that place. And there was the Reverend John Ames, who would have been the preacher’s father, with his wife beside him. It must be strange to know your whole life where you will be buried. To see these stones with your own name on them. Someday the old man would lie down beside his wife. And there she would be, after so many years, waiting in the sunlight, all covered in roses.
Lila, Marilynne Robinson, Virago, 2014, pp 40-41.