Reading

I read mysteries, usually murder mysteries, no not usually, always, no not always, but to often sometimes.  Somewhere after I retired I got into searching for foreign mysteries and have been so surprised to find so far two authors who write great books, and are packed with new thoughts on life, on cultures, on right and wrong, on living life.  I have to say we all are tied to our locations, city, state, country, hemisphere, world.  What influences us is our surrounding, not only people, but past, country, history, family, and probably most important family history.  I say most important, because to know your past will help you understand your future.

Louise Penny is a Canadian writer who has written a series of books that not only introduces you to life in Canada, but problems that are similar to ours and how they are the same and different.  I started at the beginning of her series and am now waiting for the next one.

Hanning Mankell is a Swedish writer who I found not to long ago, but his detective is so realistic you have to agonize and sympathize with him.  Again start with the beginning and go through the series.  Kurt Wallender is the character and I appreciate a realistic person who is scared to death sometimes, unable to live with killing a criminal-taking a life any life.  He is slowing realizing how the world is intruding  on Sweden and how crime, horrific crimes, are starting to occur in their country.

I guess I've learned much from both of these writers.  From Penny, that the Gregorian Monks were the first to write down music--go figure.  Before them is was played by memory.  From Mankell, how life is changing all over the world.  I've been to South Africa with him, to Russia, and now back to Sweden.  If I visited Sweden it would have to be in the winter and in Ystad.  

Both writer touch on religion, Penny more than Mankell, but both bring new thoughts and ideas.  Sometimes funny, sometimes not.  Well I've got to get back to my book.

How did I learn of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?  I know he has always been with me.  I look back at my life and only wish I had started this journey earlier.  As children we are at our parents, in my case, I think, grandparents mercy.  I never remember my mother or my grandparents stepping foot in church.  We never had a conversation about religion or their beliefs, I got my early learning from my friends who were for the most part Catholic.  I loved the mantias, the confirmation, the beauty of the Catholics, even if I didn't understand what it was all about.

I went to friends church sometimes, not Catholic unless it was a wedding or jamica.  My first memory of being in Church was the First Christian Church in Laredo.  I went with my friend Nancy Gardner.  Her father was a Sunday school teacher.  I remember I had fun.  Didn't really know what to do during church, but did like everyone else even when I took communion.

I went to the Episcopal Church a few times.  I realized right away it was a lot like the Catholic church.  Loved the ceremony of the service.  Still do.  I feel like I am closer to God on my knees.

Prodigal

What I learned this Sunday at St. John's Episcopal Church in New Braunfels TX.  Prodigal doesn't mean what I thought it means.  The prodigal son wasn't the lost son who came home but the lavish living son who came home.  My oh my does that not change things.  I never really new what prodigal meant.

Definition of prodigal

adjective

• 1spending money or using resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant:
  

• 2having or giving something on a lavish scale:
  

noun

• a person who spends money in a recklessly extravagant way:
  
  
  
  
  • (also prodigal son or daughter) a person who leaves home to lead a prodigal life but later makes a repentant return.

    [with biblical allusion to the parable in Luke 15:11–32]