Hands

jewel -hands

If I could tell the world just one thing
it would be that we're all o.k.
And not to worry
cause worry is wasteful
And unless in times like these
I won't be made useless
I wont be idled with dispair
I will gather myself around my faith
for light does the darkness most fear

My hands are small, I know,
but they're not yours they are my own
but they're not yours they are my own
and I am never broken

Poverty stole your golden shoes
but it didn't steel your laughter
And heartache came to visit me
but i knew it wasnt ever after

We'll fight, not out of spite
for someone must stand up for what's right
cause where there's a man who has no voice
there our's shall go singing

My hands are small, i know,
but they're not yours they are my own
but they're not yours they are my own
and I am never broken

In the end only kindness matters
In the end only kindness matters

I will get down on my knees and I will pray
I will get down on my knees and I will pray
I will get down on my knees and I will pray

My hands are small, I know,
but they're not yours they are my own
but they're not yours they are my own
and I am never broken

My hands are small, i know,
but they're not yours they are my own
but they're not yours they are my own
and I am never broken
We are never broken

We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's mind
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's heart
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's eyes
God's hands
God's hands
******************************
Posted for you by,

Sir Richard
A knight in thy service of the King of Kings!
http://www.myspace.com/bayohunter

Wheat Kings

Sundown in the Paris of the prairies
Wheat kings have all their treasures buried
And all you hear are the rusty breezes
Pushing around the weather vane Jesus

In his Zippo lighter, he sees the killer's face
Maybe it's someone standing in a killer's place
Twenty years for nothing, well that's nothing new,
besides, No one's interested in something you didn't do
Wheat kings and pretty things,
let's just see what the morning brings.

There's a dream he dreams where the high school is dead and stark
It's a museum and we're all locked up in it after dark
Where the walls are lined all yellow, grey and sinister
Hung with pictures of our parents' prime ministers
Wheat Kings and pretty things,
wait and see what tomorrow brings.

Late-breaking story on the CBC,
A nation whispers, "we always knew that he'd go free"
They add, "you can't be fond of living in the past,
cause if you are then there's no way that you're gonna last".
Wheat Kings and pretty things
let's just see what tomorrow brings
Wheat kings and pretty things,
that's what tomorrow brings.
******************************
May God bless all of you!
With love from,

MuzikayiFani - Sir Richard
A knight in thy service of the King of Kings...

There You Are

There You Are

There you are in the early light of day
There you are in the quiet words I pray
I've been blessed by the simple happiness
Of the perfect love we've made

Every time I turn around
When I'm lost and when I'm found
Like an angel standing guard
There you are

Every time I take a breath and when I forget to breathe
You're watching over me there you are
When I'm looking for the light in the middle of the night
Search for the brightest star
There you are

There you are in standing in a crowded room
There you are the earth and I'm the moon
My desire is to stand by the fire
That burns inside of you

Every time I turn around
When I'm lost and when I'm found
Like an angel standing guard
There you are

Every time I take a breath and when I forget to breathe
You're watching over me there you are
When I'm looking for the light in the middle of the night
Searching for the brightest star
There you are

When I'm looking for the light in the middle of the night
Searching for the brightest star
There you are
There you are
There you are
**************************
God bless all of you and if we do not meet again soon.
I am certain that we will all meet in Heaven.
With love from,

MuzikayiFani - Sir Richard
A knight in thy service of the King of Kings...

The F Word...

In 1999 my friend and fellow Team H.O.P.E. volunteer, Rebecca DeMauro’s 12-year-old daughter Andria, was murdered.

May 15, 1999 Rebecca wrote; my life changed forever when my beautiful 12 year-old daughter, Andria “Andi” Nichole Brewer was kidnapped from her father’s rural Arkansas home. After a three day state wide search for her that included hundreds of volunteers, state, local, and federal law enforcement her abductor confessed to the FBI that he had abducted Andi.

He had waited for her father to leave the house then he went to the door, told her that her grandparent’s were ill and that she needed to leave with him. He then drove her 10 miles away to the town of Cove, Arkansas down an old logging road where he raped and strangled her. We learned from his confession that she fought him and begged for her life. She promised not to tell that he had raped her if only he would take her home

He didn’t. He strangled her to death.

After he murdered her he pulled her 400 yards further into the wooded area and covered her small nude body with scrub brush and disposed of her clothing into the raging Buffalo River. The murderer, Karl Roberts, was a relative by marriage, so none of us found it odd when he helped all of us search for Andi for the three days she was missing.

When we finally learned what had happened to Andi I wanted to die with her. There is no other way to explain the loss of a child other than to say that dying by slow torture would be better. I have never experienced such great pain emotionally or physically. Unless you have lost a child there is no way to for me to explain it in a way you may understand.

There was a little relief when Karl Roberts was found guilty of first degree capital murder and was given the death penalty. For a time that seemed to pacify my rage and hate for him, but soon enough he began to consume my thoughts again. I hated him. I wanted to blow his brains out. I wanted him to suffer long and slow. I even gave him a nickname “Spawn of Satan” and prayed to God that he was being raped and tortured in prison.

Hate and un-forgiveness consumed me. My thoughts were only on ways to kill Karl Roberts and myself.

THE F WORD

January 2004....
Most people think they could never kill a person, but I could have.

True hatred, I have learned, is ugly and dark. Not like in high school when you think you hate some girl who is trying to steal your boyfriend or a co-worker who sets you up for a big fall. No. True hatred nibbles away at your insides like some flesh eating disease nibbles away at the outside.

The clock on the wall ticks so loudly it is almost deafening. Tick. Pause. Tick Pause. Tick. Pause. Shut up, I want to scream.

Instead I sit quietly, hands folded in my lap in a small office inside the Arkansas Department of Correction-Maximum Security Unit waiting to watch a man die. My demeanor does not betray the hate I harbor. But it is there, consuming me. It has crushed me since we received the call from the prosecuting attorney a few months back telling us that the execution had been set and looked as though it would go through. No, it has been there longer than that. It stretches back to that day in May of 1999 when they told me what this man had done. For five long years I have wanted him to suffer the same way he made others suffer. He has no human contact so that means no prison rapes for him, no one here to make him pay for his crime. He has nothing to live for anyway but a lonely cell and perhaps the guard who slips him his food under the door everyday maybe whispering a "hello" or "how you doing." But then again isn't that punishment enough? To be locked away waiting to die for something that took you less than 15 minutes to carry out? Isn't that cruel and unusual enough?

On the closed circuit television screen is the execution chamber, the Death House they call it here at the Arkansas State penitentiary. It is a small room with white walls, a gurney takes center stage. On that gurney are two arms boards that stretch out to each side with Velcro straps hanging in long strips, it looks like a crucifix they have laid down on an ambulance cot. Three more straps are draped across the gurney, one for the chest area, one for the mid section and one for the legs. I wonder how I, a suburban wife and mother, finds herself waiting to witness the death of another human being. My breath picks up. I have seen someone die before, three people actually, in a car wreck that happened in front of me. They were T-boned on the highway and killed instantly. I couldn't sleep for days after that. It just made me sick. It was so sudden. So wrong.

Like this. What am I thinking. It's not wrong, he's a killer. I snap my head around to make sure no one heard my thoughts. This is making me crazy.

Images snap through my head. Will he say he's sorry? Will he twitch or convulse like a mouse I once saw in a trap? The mouse twitched for a full minute before he finally grew still. I felt sorry for him. How can I have pity and mercy on a rodent and not for another human being? Am I the monster? I didn't condemn this man to death. The jury did. But I was relieved when they pronounced the death sentence on him. Justice had been served.

Right?

My heart races and sweat pops out on my forehead. I feel the urgency to release this man from the trap and from my hatred. The feeling is so strong that I want to scream at the top of my lungs for them to stop. I wring my hands in my lap and pray. For Jesus Christ sake, who am I praying to and why?

And then I think about the F word. How it can mean different things to different people, depending upon your experience. To some, it represents a cleansing, life-altering, explosive experience that rivals no other. To others, it is ugly and dark, taking a person places they never wanted to go. This word is thrown around a lot, widely misunderstood, and a lot harder than it looks.

By the F Word, I mean forgiveness. But at this moment, the word "forgiveness" is more of an expletive to me than the other word could ever be. I have always thought I could never forgive this wrong that had been done to me, never move on until retribution was fully exacted on the one who dealt me the most life-crushing of blows. The only thing I've been interested in will come from the end of a needle filled with sodium thiopental, potassium chloride and pancuronium bromide. Nothing, I believe, can equal the thrill that would overtake me when I see evil take its last, shuddering breath.

Then the phone rings. And the warden, looks at us with pity and says,

"We have a stay of execution."

My heart stops. Hatred comes up like vomit. I can taste it. I can feel it in my eyes. My husband grabs my hand. I jerk it away. Where is this coming from? Only moments ago I was feeling pity for the man about to be strapped down in the next room. Now I want him to die again. The F word is quickly forgotten. What is wrong with me?

I am standing at a crossroads. I can try to push for execution, putting my health and my marriage at risk and pour my energies into fulfilling what has been my mission in life for almost five years. I can hide away, letting bitterness slowly suck me under like mud in a river bottom. Or again, I can face the F-word head on and try to make peace with it. They may say "to err is human, to forgive is divine," but I can tell you that I'm very much human and not at all divine.

So for me to forgive, is an every day struggle that I seek the help of Jesus to make it through, one day at a time.

by Rebecca DeMauro

******************************

Song I Wish (In Search of the Missing Children), by Vienna

In Him there is always Hope!

Richard Abbenbroek...
Team H.O.P.E. USA/CANADA Volunteer
http://teamhope.org/
Child Find Alberta Canada Senior Case Manager
http://childfind.ab.ca/
BGEA Rapid Response Volunteer Chaplain
http://billygraham.ca/Ministries/RapidResponse.aspx
http://billygraham.org/RapidResponse_Index.asp

South Africa Songs At Centre Street Church #1

Our Deepest Fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and famous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

From President Nelson Mandela's 1994 Inaugural Speech
*********************
Good bye my Zulu friends!
May God grant a safe journey home and may you continue to radiate His Grace.
To those who are also now to travel to South Africa with them.
My prayers are with you, for your success in all the good things that you will do in His Name.
God bless all of you and if we do not meet again soon.
I am certain that we will all meet in Heaven.
With love from,

MuzikayiFani
A knight in thy service of the King of Kings...

Happy Calgary Stampede - 2008

Ghost Riders In The Sky

An old cowboy went riding out one dark and windy day
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way
When all at once a mighty herd of red eyed cows he saw
Plowing through the ragged skies and up the cloudy draw...

Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel
Their horns were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel
A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky
For he saw the Riders coming hard and he heard their mournful cry...

Yippie yi Ohhhhh
Yippie yi yaaaaay
Ghost Riders in the sky...

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred, their shirts all soaked with sweat
He's riding hard to catch that herd but he ain't caught 'em yet
Cause they've got to ride forever on that range up in the sky
On horses snorting fire
As they ride on hear their cry...

As the riders loped on by him, he heard one call his name
If you want to save your soul from Hell or a-riding on our range
Then cowboy change your ways today, or with us you will ride!
Trying to catch the Devil's herd, across these endless skies...

Yippie yi Ohhhhh
Yippie yi Yaaaaay

Ghost Riders in the sky...
Ghost Riders in the sky...
Ghost Riders in the sky...

by Johnny Cash

*****************
May I Wish You All A Happy Calgary Stampede - 2008
http://cs.calgarystampede.com/
from,

Sir Richard
A knight in thy service of the King of Kings!

HAPPY CANADA DAY - eh! For If I had a $1,000,000

"If I Had A $1,000,000"

If I Had $1000000 (If I Had $1000000)
I'd buy you a house (I would buy you a house)
If I Had $1000000 (If I Had $1000000)
I'd buy you furniture for your house
(Maybe a nice chesterfield or an ottoman)
If I Had $1000000 (If I Had $1000000)
I'd buy you a K-Car (a nice Reliant automobile)
If I Had $1000000 I'd buy your love.

If I Had $1000000
I'd build a tree fort in our yard.
If I Had $1000000
You could help, it wouldn't be that hard.
If I Had $1000000
Maybe we could put put a little tiny fridge in there somewhere
([Talking:] We could just go up there and hang out.
Like open the fridge and stuff, and there'd be foods laid out for us
With little pre-wrapped sausages and things. Mmmmm.
They have pre-wrapped sausages but they don't have pre-wrapped bacon.
Well can you blame them. (Yeah)

If I Had $1000000 (If I Had $1000000)
I'd buy you a fur coat (but not a real fur coat that's cruel)
If I Had $1000000 (If I Had $1000000)
I'd buy you an exotic pet (Like a llama or an emu)
If I Had $1000000 (If I Had $1000000)
I'd buy you John Merrick's remains (All them crazy elephant bones)
If I Had $1000000 I'd buy your love

If I Had $1000000
We wouldn't have to walk to the store
If I Had $1000000
We'd take a limousine 'cause it costs more
If I Had $1000000
We wouldn't have to eat Kraft Dinner.
(But we would eat Kraft Dinner. Of course we would, we'd just eat more.
And buy really expensive ketchup with it.
That's right, all the fanciest Dijon Ketchup. Mmmmmm.)

If I Had $1000000 (If I Had $1000000)
I'd buy you a green dress (but not a real green dress, that's cruel)
If I Had $1000000 (If I Had $1000000)
I'd buy you some art (a Picasso or a Garfunkel)
If I Had $1000000 (If I Had $1000000)
I'd buy you a monkey (haven't you always wanted a monkey?)
If I Had $1000000 I'd buy your love

If I Had $1000000, If I Had $1000000
If I Had $1000000, If I Had $1000000
If I Had $1000000
I'd be rich.

By Canada's Barenaked Ladies

Happy Canada Day!

Sir Richard...

In reality:
For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and lose his own soul?
Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?
--Matthew 16:26