Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                         February 22nd, 2023

For Ash Wednesday -

Her Maasai assistant wanted to know if I remembered any Maa.  Only one word, Lengai.  “Lengai ni Mungu” she joyfully, laughingly, told Daktari.  Lengai is Mungu is God. 

They now know us and like us and even enjoy us.  Remembering that one word of her assistant’s mother tongue while face down stripped to the waist in her simple surgical suite gave both of these angel’s smiles.  Yes, you can hear smiles even in different languages. 

Skin Surgery went well Tuesday, yesterday.  Clean facility and young Daktari, a Mama of three, the youngest two are twins.  She and her assistant wanted me to pray for the procedure before we started.  She also asked Hilda and I to keep praying for her as two infants and a toddler means nearly no sleep. 

The active invocation, willing wanting inclusion, of God into the work of their day is just cool.  It lifted tiredness along with spirits. 

We had a good conversation while Daktari dug, cut and stitched.  We talked about other scars they could see.  We talked about how one would get scarring like that.  We talked about working in the woods.  We talked about other traumas and the tricks you can play on your body to keep it working even when broken enabling yourself to get out of the bush and to the truck miles away.  Then you can go start working on not being broken. 

Hilda stood in the doorway holding the door close and speaking into the shared veracity of our crazy life together.  This taught much about a character allowing her to be here striving too.  Everything is fine.  Just some stupid skin things needing to go away before they get out of control.  Hilda insisted, found a way and made it happen.  We now have more people who like and want us in their lives. 

We are to meet the Gastroenterologist because he preaches too and we must meet his wife because of women’s bible studies she does all the time.  Stitches out in ten days.  Maybe then.  

For family who know much about how I have become less than physically perfect through the years, this means I now have access to an older and very well experienced Gastroenterologist.  This too is a good thing.  We are ultimately focused on self-care first, and ever, as medical professionals are few here facing desperate need beyond small stuff. 

While going to the truck to leave, a well-dressed young woman approached The Cross hanging around my neck and asked permission of me to come to the truck and talk with Hilda and I.  This is but one type of need that we have in front of us all the time.  This is polite.  This is educated.  This is put together. 

This is a mother of children also caring for her mother.  Between Covid and the overlong and continuing economic downturn her work in tourism has been gone for a long time.  Her asking to speak with Mama/Hilda and her demeanor meant that she has avoided prostitution so far.  All she wants is a job.  Any job that won’t make her sick and unable to care for those she strives to. 

Like the angels inside who took care of me, happy for work, this angel outside only wants a chance to work.  With work comes chance to feed children and her mother.  Do we know that all the children in her home are hers?  Do we know where the father is or are?  No.  She may simply be the only one left alive of her generation to strive in their care.  Like others we know, this polite, proud, capable one may be the aunt who managed the funerals and brought the little ones home with her, now her mother too. 

No good ending here.  We had to explain that we are self-funded missionaries and had no jobs.  Hilda wrote some numbers of local contacts down on a piece of paper for her but..  I wonder whether that angel has a phone any more, let alone one with minutes(air time) left.  Our contacts are no better off than we.  Pray connection and diligence pays off for this brave angel.  Please. 

The raised chin, the gratitude for us listening, and the tears she did not want us to see but could not keep from coming are truth telling of life for most here.  I pray for this angel, whose name I do not know, more than our new friends.  We aren’t dead inside.

My nature, our natures are deeply hurt by her plight but she did not want any money.  She is all those things listed above and money she knows is not durable nor lasting.  Her responsibilities demand more.  Her human dignity deserves more even as that dignity suffers to seek failed hope in such as us.    

She is an angel no doubt because she spares nothing of herself to maintain and cherish life.  We all know someone like that who came from heaven too. 

---------------------------------

For Ash Wednesday -

He is six years old.  His eyes track together some of the time but not all.  When he struggles to breathe, he can cough, so you quickly elevate his back and head and turn him so his airway can clear.  Speech has not developed.  His mouth works well enough to consume soft foods.  He can also turn and lift his head some to track voices and look up at you if you are the one holding him.  Otherwise, nothing of a voluntary nature works at all beneath his neck. 

How do I explain this kind of need?  Dare I try to explain this kind of need?  Let me put fear of offending aside once more and try. 

He lives at Moses Confort Home, no not a misspelling.  That is what the little English paper connected with this place has printed on it.  No international funding here.  No fancy boards of well off people controlling any money.  The wise and cagey angel grandmother in charge here took what little we left in her hand last time I was there and found recycled tin sheeting to start putting roof over where she and the littles live.  One family donated bunk-beds recently too.  About sixty or so littles live here.

He, this broken little boy of no hope and honestly no visible future here, is one of that sixty or so.  She will not give up on hm.  She spares nothing of herself to maintain and cherish life.  Neither do her neighbors.  Women with children and responsibilities of their own come day and night to hold this broken child who is dead without them. 

This visit it was my turn and with the lifting of my arms one of those local mothers trusted enough to put him there.  She watched for only a few minutes then left to go back to what awaits her at her home.    

I had been asked to help a young couple look for service opportunities for the young bride, married this very same Monday.  They have known each other for years.  He is Tanzanian.  She is a farm girl from outside Portland.  We met them last year and have not seen them since.  He contacted me for help just before the weekend when we are super-busy and so they spent Monday, their wedding day, in my truck going to places we have learned about. 

My whiteness and presumed wealth gets us through the door.  Then his native language and resilient and deeply sincere Christ-centered character got them willing acceptance, shown around, and invitation to participate.   He might also be seen as a little angry, a little reserved and slow to trust, a little judgmental. 

I think he has a right.  This young husband is someone who has never shut his eyes to any of it.  He has consistently been denied entry into the U.S. because of his gender and place of origin so he can visit his fiancée’s parents and family.  After years, they sent her to return alone to Africa with their blessing. 

I get to see this couple on their wedding day, not her parents nor her four siblings, nor her nieces and nephews.  I am a witness to something.  I am a witness to something sincere, beautiful, and sacrificed for.  I get to see their lives and life together and how it is treated in this time and place.

I share that with you.  By God’s grace I will share that with her parents and siblings and those connected and interested someday.  Maybe in forever.  I may be a witness of them and how they live and who they are in forever.  I am a witness right now for them with each of you.

I sat on the simple bench next to them rocking that broken six year old that the local angels would never give up on, day and night now for over six years.  We worked together, he and I, to get his airway clear as we rocked.  His eyes tracked together to my face, my large hairy white face.  He was not afraid when focus came for him.  He was grateful. 

We rocked as the newlywed couple talked with the brave angel local ones.  We rocked, they talked.  I, as witness, to this time and place.  This grateful hopelessly broken little man fearlessly watching and listening, witnessing too. 

We are right about God you know.  For some indescribably loving reason God has given us God’s face, and forever is the plan for us.  Forever starts right now.  In a world so comfortable with death and death seeking on so many levels, literal, and so inventing of new levels to inflict death on, here is another life the angels in poverty would not, do not, will not, give up on. 

One six decades, one six years, both watching, both listening, both serving as witness to what people chose, choose.  As able we witness for today.  As able we witness for tomorrow, for forever.  Life is not inconvenience.  Life is worth the effort, the struggle, the loss of idolatry to our plans. 

That rocking, hopelessly broken, little man was grateful, comfortable, and fearlessly chose to fall asleep.  He was still asleep when I set him in the awaiting Manger of arms outstretched by another man, a local man, there to receive him for a time.  Proof that life is worth sacrifice. 

That hopelessly broken little man will have much to teach about love whenever he comes to speak his testimony, wherever he speaks, to whoever his grateful speech is given. 

---------------------------------

This is but one type of need that we have in front of us all the time.  She of the unwilling tears, that will not be refused their expression, is an angel no doubt because she spares nothing of herself to maintain and cherish life.  That rocking, hopelessly broken, little man was grateful, comfortable, and fearlessly chose to fall asleep.  He was still asleep when I set him in the awaiting Manger of arms outstretched by another man, a local man, there to receive him for a time.  Proof that life is worth sacrifice. 

Witness to angels right here who we get to see.  We all know someone like them who came from heaven too. 

Keep it up..  It is indescribably hard..  It is beyond humbling..  It is vital, beautiful, and true..  thank you..

-----------------------------

WE don’t fit the expected boxes..  The local folks have decided to either love us or hate us for that.  The ones who love us seem to be winning..  I think your praying has been a huge part in that.  God is listening, watching..  laughing some too?? 

Thank You for that.

Also please Pray for:

..  Except for perhaps needing to drive to Kenya to cross the border and re-enter TZ every 90 days, the Visa stamp in our passports indicates current until 2024.  Thank You!

Gratitude..

Gratitude for our time in the Pacific Northwest and over to Colorado for those dear children and grandchildren who miss us and whom we are overjoyed to have had our precious time with.

Makumira Secondary School, my brilliant helper Elisha’s school, is looking to share stories and partner in some way with a foreign school, Great leaders, teachers, students, programs, strong backs, minds, and hearts –

Moses Confort Home / Upendo School / Blue Sky School  -

Imbasenny school is one of two schools run by a Mchungaji here.  He requests prayer for Imbasenny school as that school has no external support and parents school fees fall short of what the job takes.

Hilda’s continued invisibility to those who can only see their own authority –

Our armed forces families, our leadership, our people, whole world round, all of God’s kids -

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

I continue to be under much harsh spiritual attack concerning my sense of self-worth and those many things I have yet to get to, please, only as you are comfortable, remember me, indeed us.. the world doesn’t like what we are doing out of love we don’t own.. yet have none the less..  –

Us is not only Hilda and I but a growing circle of local folks.  Please imagine them too as you pray for ‘us’. -

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us, for us to let our health fail so others can shine –

For a way for us to invest with our experience and even financially in support of local industrious people so we can afford to stay and continue to make a difference one face at a time –

For those who have braved the donate button to discover Kajun Crofton, our daughter who helps getting each one of your donations to us and every blogpost to where you can read it –

For you who find other ways to uplift and support us -

For each and every one of you –

Each and every one of your prayers, your precious conversations with God –

Prayers, Your Prayer, skipping stone and even groaning prayers make all the difference..

If we should ever cross your mind, even if we are strange and confusing, just grunt, crumple us up and throw us at God.  That is where we need to be.. 

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music

 Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                         February 14th, 2023

Yesterday afternoon we followed the Coaster/Bus to the school where the Children’s Village children are attending.  We were given a tour by the new headmaster of Upendo School.  He is a young man, as they all are to us, this one known to Hilda from her first year among local educational circles here. 

With pride he showed his acquaintance and her husband around the school.  Nearly every class, the school has well over Three Hundred attending and only 60-ish are from The Children’s Village, had a voice ring out,” Bibi!..  Babu!”  They fearlessly identify us as their grandparents now.  The Mama’s who care for the whole village of children including those too old for this school and too young, identify us as theirs too.

Your Prayers for our consistency are heard and so very fruitful.  Thank You.

This is a far less well-off school than Silverleaf, where the children were last year.  It is however, where they attended the year before last.  The intervening year and change in ownership is reported to have been a real boon and benefit.  As grandparents who scan faces and body language, striving to ignore material things that are not available, I am glad to report that the children were calm, happy, open.  That means that children know they are safe.  If these children know they are safe, they are hungry to learn.  That means that they are.  This learning happening without much of the presumed irreducibly important material things for contemporary North American instruction.  

The children who know us gathered to the Coaster and we waved them on their way.  We have traveled with these littles in that same bus and they all know our little truck too. 

I noticed a young white woman sitting outside Upendo School with a Maasai woman dressed in non-traditional dress.  They were waiting for their little over a dozen to be walked about a kilometer and a half to their communal home.  The white girl, Sarah, is from France.  She has been here for two months and has only two weeks left before she flies home.  She dreads leaving.  GOOD!  I told her I was proud of her for letting this place live inside her heart.  This is difficult to do.  There is overwhelmingly beyond overwhelming need with nearly every new face.  It takes real guts not to be driven or run away from it.

The Maasai woman knew of where I served among her people for such a short time in two different years, eight and nine years ago, in the bush Northwest of here.  She happily identified herself as Maasai and waved her finger before her face to indicate the tribal facial scarring she bears.  Yes, it is different from Meru facial scarring but that tradition too is no longer universal.  I notice, but not after noticing the person.  Hilda see’s only people.  Hilda walked with these new acquaintances and their little charges all the way back to their home.  I followed with the truck.

As Upendo School is deficient in comparison to Silverleaf, so is Moses Comfort Home materially deficient in comparison to The Children’s Village.  The only white there is that precious twenty-two year old French girl soon to be going home.  This is an orphanage started and still shepherded by yet another Meru grandmother.  Local people doing all they can to keep children alive.  We learned through broken English and broken Swahili that Upendo School has taken these children, living without roofs, yet, and has not demanded payment of school fees, nor fees for food. 

We do not know the owner of Upendo School and Blue Sky School.  The same person now owns both.  Please pray for that owner and their family anyway.  In this place with that median age of 17, community works precious miracles that take my breath away. 

Moses Comfort Home is an orphanage tucked back away out of sight.  It is only impoverished local folks trying in faith to save some children.  They are not connected with any Safari company who brings wealthy visitors to gawp at them.  Because of how the adults treated us, the children were without fear.  The children were well cared for as proved by their comportment.  More arrived home from a different school bravely shepherded by that young girl from France while we were shown around and listened to the story of survival and improvement. 

No, we can’t fix things.  We sold our home in America in order to come and try to make a difference in moments.  We can choose not to run away. 

We can choose to stay still and listen.  We can choose to stay still and affirm.  We can uphold the faith of people doing the impossible so they do not lose hold of where their strength comes.  It does not come from overseas.  In this case for this group of fortunate children living without roofs but now inside a wall, it does not come from wealthy whites or blacks or arabs or asians.  It comes from our creator and savior who teaches precious leadership practices like self-sacrifice for someone else’s sake.  Those practices lived by a Meru grandmother and a Maasai woman and those they can trust to share the work with.  Even a twenty-two year old French girl.  Even us. 

We promised to write you about them, this Moses Comfort Home tucked way back out of sight off the local road, not the big road, in Usa, Tanzania.  Yes the thought of being prayed for is hugely beneficial here.  Thank You for taking the time to even read this.  I know it is hard to listen.  I know it may be easier to run or be driven away.  Thank you for having grit and choosing not to be.

---------------------------------

The Children’s Village Mama’s and my ridiculous slowness in figuring something out. 

Perhaps that slowness is right.  These are people who do not like to ask for help from Hilda and I.  They know our story.  They know and have listened to our journey enough to regard us as theirs and not a bank.  Still, I have been writing and giving messages from scripture to these hard working Mama’s for nearly a year now.  The last third of that year we have found a way to print those messages out.  Some would read the Swahili out for the group.  Many would not. 

Wave your fingers and say DUH Vern!

Two Sundays now have depleted my supply of reading glasses.  There are all levels of far-sighted-ness among this precious group of women.  The year was necessary for trust to build to where I could take each aside, in private, and work with different pairs of glasses until one was found for each Mama in need. 

They are all brilliant.  They are all fluent.  Their joy at reading scripture again leading some to leap and dance and twirl like some of the teenagers they love and keep.  They love us.  They know we love them too.  Whatever is ahead. 

Thank You for your precious prayer part in this.  Thank you for waking me up to this need.

---------------------------------

Minor skin surgery for me next week Tuesday.  Local office, local doctor, Hilda approved. 

-----------------------------

WE don’t fit the expected boxes..  The local folks have decided to either love us or hate us for that.  The ones who love us seem to be winning..  I think your praying has been a huge part in that.  God is listening, watching..  laughing some too?? 

Thank You for that.

Also please Pray for:

Visa situation..  Except for perhaps needing to drive to Kenya to cross the border and re-enter TZ every 90 days, the Visa stamp in our passports indicates current until 2024.  Thank You!

Gratitude..

Gratitude for our time in the Pacific Northwest and over to Colorado for those dear children and grandchildren who miss us and whom we are overjoyed to have had our precious time with.

Makumira Secondary School, my brilliant helper Elisha’s school, is looking to share stories and partner in some way with a foreign school, Great leaders, teachers, students, programs, strong backs, minds, and hearts –

Moses Comfort Home / Upendo School / Blue Sky School  -

Imbasenny school is one of two schools run by a Mchungaji here.  He requests prayer for Imbasenny school as that school has no external support and parents school fees fall short of what the job takes.

Hilda’s continued invisibility to those who can only see their own authority –

Our armed forces families, our leadership, our people, whole world round, all of God’s kids -

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

I continue to be under much harsh spiritual attack concerning my sense of self-worth and those many things I have yet to get to, please, only as you are comfortable, remember me, indeed us.. the world doesn’t like what we are doing out of love we don’t own.. yet have none the less..  –

Us is not only Hilda and I but a growing circle of local folks.  Please imagine them too as you pray for ‘us’. -

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us, for us to let our health fail so others can shine –

For a way for us to invest with our experience and even financially in support of local industrious people so we can afford to stay and continue to make a difference one face at a time –

For those who have braved the donate button to discover Kajun Crofton, our daughter who helps getting each one of your donations to us and every blogpost to where you can read it –

For you who find other ways to uplift and support us -

For each and every one of you –

Each and every one of your prayers, your precious conversations with God –

Prayers, Your Prayer, skipping stone and even groaning prayers make all the difference..

If we should ever cross your mind, even if we are strange and confusing, just grunt, crumple us up and throw us at God.  That is where we need to be.. 

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music

 Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                           February 2nd, 2023

Zawadi ni Imperishable

We’ve learned that most developed world leadership of NGO structures is focused on how to pay for things(money).  This comes from being confronted with real stark need.  We aren’t big check writers, never have been.  We strove to serve at home with everything we had.  We still strive to serve folks at home by sharing what we find.  Hilda and I are deeply programmed by our lives together of hand to mouth survival to stay focused on how we can serve people and not a budget projection of well worldly educated hopes staffed often by well-meaning non-locals. 

This lifetime of training is a blessing.  We are among stark need.  One of our greatest resources is empathy.  Living among the desperate we try to err on the side of being vulnerable, exposed, seen, approachable.  We are currently no longer part of any NGO structure.  This may change as Hilda needs to teach.  Until then we are free to serve anyone and beholden only to the best leadership possible, our Heavenly Father.  Please keep holding our feet to the fire.  Please keep us in God’s hands and at God’s desired work, whatever that is in each moment.

English Tutorial: 

The girls’ tutorial happens Saturday morning now and in the girls’ grandparents’ home where I leave the door open.  After a while the grandparents come over and close the door to keep little ones from distracting the study.  This trust is unbelievable.

This morning, Thursday between 9 and 10:30 or so, two young men were with me in English Tutorial.  This tutorial is held at The Children’s Village up on the mountain and is still ongoing at the request of local people who work there.  Even though neither of us is on the books or in the budget, as we aren’t seen by the non-local leadership as shiny enough to attract disposable income to the cause, local folks want and choose to need us.  

Thursday has become tutorial for the boys, one is a father, both are grown.  The textbook is a locally(Arusha) available NIV English Bible purchased and gifted to each student.  After reading the first two chapters of 1^st Peter out loud for me to help with pronunciation and definitions, we discussed the text.  The young father, whose local name means gift, informed me that his name was now “Imperishable”.  That being one of the many words discussed at length for its meaning within the text.    

This young man also preaches on weekends and has seemed to be getting real pleasure at our study time together.  He is a vociferous note taker.  Zawadi ni Imperishable [Gift is Imperishable] is written in his notes from today.  This from describing and discussing at length, at their request, perishable and imperishable in an expected biological context then going a step further indicating that even silver and gold perish, lose their strength, shape, and beauty by perishing in fire, when things get hot. 

Zawadi doesn’t like being reminded, but he is basically onsite operations manager, a big shot.  I’m glad he chooses to stand firm when it gets hot.  The children he serves at work need him as much as the children he serves at home. 

---------------------------------

Yesterday my/our fixer came by.  We have been without Passports and current Visa’s for a few days.  He returned them to us opening up mine to show us that the Visa Stamped in them this time doesn’t expire until 2024.  Instead of having to pay for new Visa’s every 90 days we will only need to drive to Kenya to cross the border and then return every 90 days.  And, I now have not only a Tanzanian Primary School certificate but our fixer is off to Dar es Salaam to collect my Tanzanian Secondary School, High School, certificate.  We try the University again soon, God willing.  

Our fixer is another young father.  He was almost a Catholic Priest before his parents sat him down and said that as their only son he had to marry and have children.  He ran a region of the National Parks here and was forced to either resign or die after discovering a very high public official shooting and killing an elephant in his Parks Region.  Though not illegal everywhere, that is illegal hunting activity where it occurred. 

Why do I mention this?  This genius fixer with an eidetic memory claims that before meeting me and going to work with me on my going to school here as a pathway for other folks, that he was very nearly out of business entirely.  He claims that since I walked through his door, business has been pouring in.  He is working on lots of projects now, including bringing medical students from Harvard this year for study in this developing world context. 

Your Prayer spreads like ripples in the water.  We don’t see where those ripples all go.  We only see the top.  With God there is always a lot more going on underneath or behind that rock along the edge somewhere.   Thank You..

---------------------------------

Yes, two Sundays again now with the boarding students at Silverleaf Academy.  We are up to over sixty littles now from the forty before.  More girls in school now from the big lake out in the bush too.  Your Prayers are awesome!

Tomorrow we restart ‘religion’ class in the afternoon for Silverleaf Academy too.  Again, local folks are the ones coming to get us and insist on our participation. 

Last week I met some folks while in Arusha from Cyprus.  It was a moment in which prayer for a child needing emergency surgery back home in Cyprus was needed.  So there in the middle of a café at the back of a huge wealthy person store, security everywhere, we stood together and prayed.  I wasn’t wearing my cross so I still don’t know how they knew to come to me.   I was there getting special food for another developed world one on the anniversary of her father’s death. 

That same small group from Cyprus came to English Service at the Cathedral out in Usa River Sunday too..  WOW! 

We strive to be without fail worshiping with the littles and then the Mama’s at The Children’s Village too, so far with nearly no exceptions so good.

On the way down the mountain today I got a call from another local pastor.  He needed me at 10:am on Sunday until 1:pm or so.  I begged him not to give up on me but that we had two Sunday Schools and a Worship Time already to do during those hours.  He promised not to give up.

-----------------------------

WE don’t fit the expected boxes..  The local folks have decided to either love us or hate us for that.  The ones who love us seem to be winning..  I think your praying has been a huge part in that.  God is listening, watching..  laughing some too?? 

Thank You for that.

Also please Pray for:

Visa situation..  Except for perhaps needing to drive to Kenya to cross the border and re-enter TZ every 90 days, the Visa stamp in our passports indicates current until 2024.  Thank You!

Gratitude..

Gratitude for our time in the Pacific Northwest and over to Colorado for those dear children and grandchildren who miss us and whom we are overjoyed to have had our precious time with.

Makumira Secondary School, my brilliant helper Elisha’s school, is looking to share stories and partner in some way with a foreign school, Great leaders, teachers, students, programs, strong backs, minds, and hearts –

Imbasenny school is one of two schools run by a Mchungaji here.  He requests prayer for Imbasenny school as that school has no external support and parents school fees fall short of what the job takes.

Hilda’s continued invisibility to those who can only see their own authority –

Our armed forces families, our leadership, our people, whole world round, all of God’s kids -

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

I continue to be under much harsh spiritual attack concerning my sense of self-worth and those many things I have yet to get to, please, only as you are comfortable, remember me, indeed us.. the world doesn’t like what we are doing out of love we don’t own.. yet have none the less..  –

Us is not only Hilda and I but a growing circle of local folks.  Please imagine them too as you pray for ‘us’. -

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us, for us to let our health fail so others can shine –

For a way for us to invest with our experience and even financially in support of local industrious people so we can afford to stay and continue to make a difference one face at a time –

For those who have braved the donate button to discover Kajun Crofton, our daughter who helps getting each one of your donations to us and every blogpost to where you can read it –

For you who find other ways to uplift and support us -

For each and every one of you –

Each and every one of your prayers, your precious conversations with God –

Prayers, Your Prayer, skipping stone and even groaning prayers make all the difference..

If we should ever cross your mind, even if we are strange and confusing, just grunt, crumple us up and throw us at God.  That is where we need to be.. 

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music