Comments

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  Rusty Forslund May 26, 2008 at 7:48pm

  Hi Lonnell,
  Yes I am the same Rusty from way back in the day. I was in my last year of High School in Dover, DE. But there were ambassadors there for a few months and I visited DC a few times that year as I recall. I visited you and your wife, I do remember that. It is exciting to reconnect with folks after so many years, is it not?
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  Matt Miller May 18, 2008 at 2:52pm

  Thanks Lonnell for your tape. I just got it and appreciate the kind and uplifting comments that you sent with it.
  I am looking forward to listening to it.
  Matt
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  Walter L. Nelson Jr. May 16, 2008 at 2:19am

  Lonnell,
  Walter Nelson from Chicago and left there to go into the 22th Way Corps. now living in Detroit. Tremendously blessed to see you on this site and to know that you are well and blessed. Have to get to work now but drop me a line and I look to stay in contact.
  
  Surprise! Surprise!
  
  Walter
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  Duke Clarke May 15, 2008 at 1:43am

  Lonnell,
  I thought you might like to know that Elizabeth (Beth) Lowder passed away last night. I got an email from Steve this morning. His email is steven lowder [seerlowder@yahoo.com] if you wanted to write him.
  Love you,
  Duke
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  Matt Miller May 9, 2008 at 3:11pm

  Dear Lonnell,
  Thank you so much - I was refreshed with your comments.
  
  I am so thankful I hit the mark - and especially that you caught the tie of Columbus to the city that you live and work and minister in.
  
  Also thank you for teaching me the intricate value of the previous poem on the orchard in terms of the numbers and the significance of those numbers. My God you have a magnificent mind. I will use your poem to take off and comment back.
  
  The ever blooming and enfolding rose bud into ever enfolding beauty. Oh what a wonderful figure of speech for all that life can now present - if we live life now and take the values from the past but still look to the present water and present sunshine and the present food we eat and the present garden we are in and the present season we are in and yes it is budding time!
  
  Yet all plants including roses need to be pollinated.
  It is interesting to note that bees do all the pollinating for all plant life. You destroy bees - you destroy all of life - and the budding rose. In an interesting that the Federal Dept of Agriculture knows the exact number of bee swarms - or schools and they track them.
  In the the last 10 years there has been a reduction of one third of be schools in the United States.
  
  As bees pollinate all of life so does the communication from the depth of heart to the depth of heart pollinate ministry and service.
  
  Without that depth of communication - pollination for that budding rose cannot occur.
  
  I marvel at this - the wonder of it all.
  
  The measureless heart is a heart that is empowered with wisdom and understanding and counsel - it is baptised with the spirit of God.
  
  
  Down deep in the depths
  Of the fathomless sea,
  Lies ingots of wealth
  we never shall see;
  So, down in the depths
  Of the measureless heart,
  Lies a richness of love
  Unfathomed by art.
  
  With the bright blue waves
  Caressing our keel,
  Of the wealth of the ocean
  How little we feel;
  Of the tide of immortals
  We meet and we part,
  How little we know
  Of the depths of the heart.
  
  James H. Baker (1829-1913)
  
  
  So much of your poetry and our heart one to one leads me to say
  that if I stepped out of my body I would break into blossom.
  
  I have one more for you.
  It is in reference to your former comments on brothers and friends and this poem is one of the poems in the book that I will send you.
  
  Into the company of love/it all returns.
  Robert Creely
  
  Company of Love
  written by Michael Dennis Browne.
  He is presently the prof of English at the University of Minnesota.
  
  Who do you carry? Who goes with you?
  Who is there in the dark? In the night sweats?
  Who will be there with you in the fire?
  Who the companions? Are they not star light?
  How many songs have there been? Do you not hold those
  tunes?
  How many roadside flowers? How many summer fires?
  Who is it bends over you again at night to kiss you?
  Who do you bend to kiss? Whose laughs, whose tears are
  those?
  Who lives on in your voice or do they not do that?
  Who are the lanterns? Who have you in the dark?
  Who is near and very near? Is there not treasure?
  Is there not blessing? Is everything buried to stay there?
  Whose dreams can be there in yours? Who can you feed?
  Who do you carry with you? Who goes along?
  
  
  These are wonderful questions and each may apply to some one distinct and different in our lives.
  
  We praise
  By the skin of our teeth, Persimmon, and Pawpaw's constant
  Affair with gravity, and the proletariat of the pomegranate
  Inside its leathery city:
  And let us praise all these
  As they please us: skin, flesh flower, and the flowering
  Bones of their seeds: from which come orchards: bees:
  honey:
  Flowers, loves language, love, heart's ease, poems, praise.
  (Thomas McGrath)
  
  Matt Miller
• 

  Matt Miller May 8, 2008 at 10:31am

  A brother and a friend Dear Lonnell - a man born to weather the storms and sail safeley into the harbour.
  
  Columbus was both a true man but to me an allegory of beilieving - of hope - and yes of ministry.
  
  Lonnell - a teacher of good things, a good father and a good husband,
  
  After reading your response - I again marvel how a few words on a comment page can mean so much - but the words are inked with deep affection and reference for your spirit.
  I am thankful beyond measure that the writing of our letters are mutually edifying and uplifting and perhaps even inspired.
  
  I was so blessed with your expansion of the orchard theme - how a seed from one pomegranate seed brings forth an orchard - the seed on fertile ground.
  
  I reflect on the song - this world is not our home - we are just traveling through so I give you a little Whitman.
  
  Perhaps I just go by first thought after some reflection - although I know not the extent of your pressures - I ask God to simply give me the words to minister to your life as you have so ministered to mine.
  
  Whitman's Prayer of Columbus comes to mind and although his poem is too long to include the whole thing I will attempt a few words.
  
  I am including a part of this poem as the words engulfed my spirit as I was reading it in preparing to comment back to you and so they must be to you.
  
  Thanks so much for offering to send your teaching. I will definitely look forward to hearing it and working the material.
  
  I also at some point would like to send you a book entitled "Where One Voice Ends Another Begins. It is edited by Robert Hedin. Robert Hedin was born in Red Wing Minnesota and is the author, editor, tanslator of nineteen volumes of poetry and prose. He now serves as director of the Anderson Center of Interdisciplinary Studies in Red Wing.
  
  Where One River Ends Another Begins is the first single vloume comprehensive survey of Minnesota's rich poetic heritage and showcases the work of seventy six poets from accoss generations from Minnesota. There are many lyrics that rose out of the oral tradition of the Dakota and Ojibwe cultures and they are translated by renowned musicologist Frances Densmore and Alfred Longley Riggs. Here for example is a portion from My Love Has Departed a love poem that captures im a mere fourteen syllables, the profundity of human loss.
  
  A Loon
  I thought it was
  But it was
  My love's
  Splashing oar.
  
  Anyway I would love to send you this book as a gift.
  
  Prayer of Columbus
  
  A batter'd wreck 'd old man,
  Thrown on this savage shore, far, far from home,
  Pent by the sea and dark rebellious brows, twelve dreary
  months,
  Sore, stiff with many toils, sicken'd and nigh to death,
  I take my way along the islands edge,
  Venting a heavy heart.
  I am too full of woe!
  Haply I may not live another day;
  I cannot rest O God, I cannot eat or drink or sleep,
  Til I put forth myself, my prayer once more to Thee,
  Breathe, bathe myself once more in Thee, commune with
  Thee,
  Report myself once more to Thee.
  Thou knowest my years entire, my life,
  My long and crowded life of active work, not adoration
  merely;
  Thou knowest the prayers and vigils of my youth,
  Thou knowest my manhood's solemn and visionary
  meditations,
  Thou knowest how before I commenced I devoted all to
  come to Thee,
  Thou knowest I have in age ratified all those vows and
  strictly kept them,
  Thou knowest I have not once lost nor faith nor ecstasy in
  Thee,
  In Shackles, prison'd, in disgrace, repining not,
  Accepting all from Thee.
  All my emprises have been fill'd with Thee,
  My speculations, plans, begun and carried on in thoughts of
  Thee,
  Sailing the deep or journeying the land for Thee;
  Intentions, purports, aspirations, mine, leaving results to Thee.
  
  Oh I am sure they really came from Thee,
  the urge the ardor, the unconquerable will,
  the potent, felt interior command, stronger than words,
  a message from the Heavens whispering to me even in
  sleep,
  These sped me on.
  
  Haply the lifeless cross I know, Europe's dead cross, may
  bud and blossom there.
  
  one effort more, my alter this bleak sand;
  That thou oh God my life has lighted,
  with ray of light, steady ineffable, vouchsafed of Thee,
  Light rare untellable, lighting the very light,
  For that O God, be it my latest word, here on my knees,
  Old, poor, and paralyzed, I thank Thee.
  my terminus near,
  the clouds already closing in on me,
  the voyage balk'd, the course disputed, lost,
  I yield my ships to Thee.
  
  My hands, my limbs grow nerveless,
  My brain feels rack'd, bewilder'd
  Let the old timbers part, I WILL NOT PART,
  I will cling fast to Thee, O God, though the waves buffet me,
  Thee, Thee at least I know.
  
  Is it the prophet's thought I speak, or am I raving?
  What do I know of life? what of myself?
  I know not even my own work past or present,
  Dim ever shifting guesses of it spread before me,
  Of newer better worlds, their mighty parturtion,
  Mocking, perplexing me.
  
  And these things I see suddenly, what mean they?
  As of some miracle, some hand divine, unseal'd my eyes,
  Shaddowiy vast shapes smile through the air and sky,
  And on the distant waves sail countless ships,
  And anthems in new tongues I hear saluting me.
  
  I did not include the whole poem but hopefully that is what you need to hear.
  I will comment more later.
  Love You Brother,
• 

  Rev. Joe Pasquella May 1, 2008 at 11:16am

  Dear Brother Lonnell,
  Greetings in Jesus Christ.
  Hi, just wanted to greet you and say I was real impressed with your profile and your words.
  I would be honored to see you again someday.
  Love in Christ,
  Deacon Joseph Pasquella
• 

  Matt Miller April 30, 2008 at 6:23pm

  Dear Lonnell,
  Thank you for your beautiful poetry that has bathed my spirit in hope.
  
  Jesus most likely started his ministry close to this day of May 1.
  It was about this time he opened the book of Isaiah to give his ministry birth!
  
  Jesus was God's answer to Israel's May Day Call - MAY DAY MAY DAY MAY DAY! The code must be given three times and it is the call that is made only when the very essence of life is threatened.
  Three is the number for completion.
  
  It derives from the French venez m'aider, meaning 'come to my aid'/"come [to] help me." The very essence of spiritual pride and rebellion is not to respond to the call of distress - the call for help.
  
  It is interesting that Jonah was the first book written and the overall meaning of the book is that God's command to a prophet to respond to a call for help that without that help the end result is destruction or death is non- negotiable.
  
  Paul left immediately when he heard the Macedonian call "Come Help Me" - and he got thrown in prison but angels released his shackles so that he could complete the May Day Call.
  
  When the boat was tossed with waves and those on the boat in Galilee were threatened God told Jesus to go right away even in the dark night - and he went - God allowed him to walk on water to respond to the May Day Call!
  
  Yes it is May 1st - in ancient days (pre Christian Europe) it was called the first day of summer. February 1st was the first day of spring. In fact June 21 - the equinox interestingly was called mid summer. This was also true in Persia and the Middle East.
  
  The first of May was a time of great celebration in all the ancient cultures. It was the day in ancient Persia when the Robbin would sing his gospel. Yes in North America - it is still the day that the Robbin returns to announce paradise is reborn and the winter exile is over.
  
  Paradise by the way is a Persian Word - it means 'tree of life".
  In most of the world outside of the United States this day is celebrated with dancing. It's very source is a day of rejoicing - for the Robbin sings his gospel!
  I remember in my youth dancing around the May Pole - it is something to see and behold - children dancing and celebrating holding on to ribbons from the pole - going around and around with leaps of joy!
  So on this first day of May - that the ancients celebrated the Gospel of The Robbin - heralding a call to paradise to life I leave you this poem in honor of the young Lonnell who thought of the Robbin's song.
  May it bless you kind and good brother who is a poet of wisdom - understanding - who walks in the counsel of His Lord - who dances in the power of His Might.
  
  The Pomegranate tree in oriental culture is a symbolic of life from God and in this poem he alludes to it being a mountain like Zion. Indeed Pomegranate juice is full of anti oxidants and is a wonderful source of life sustaining nutrients!
  
  The title of this Poem is Red Robbins Gospel and I got it from a book called Of Birds and Men - it was originally written in Persian and the author is Mahmud Kianush.
  
  ROBBINS GOSPEL
  
  When the Red Robin perches
  On the top of the Pomegranate Tree
  I know that it has for me
  A happy message from you,
  And I listen with delight.
  
  Each drop of its song
  Is a paradisal spring in the air.
  I drink it with faith,
  And forget the promises
  Written on my bewildered soul with fire:
  Promises of the hopeless dreamers
  Who spoke through the ages
  of false darkness
  About happiness in the Other World.
  
  I believe in every word
  Of the Red Robin's Gospel,
  From the top of the Mount Pomegranate,
  Sitting under the holy Sun,
  The small bird
  Gazes over the serene sea of grass,
  And sings its universal words,
  And in them I hear you
  Talking clearly to me
  Without Gabriel standing between us.
  
  Your message has never been written,
  So it cannot be read by eyes.
  Moment by moment
  Your Word is the re-creation of life,
  And the gift of reading it
  Is here in my heart,
  Linked through all the galaxies
  To the tiny heart of the Red Robin,
  Sitting on the top
  of the Pomegranate Tree.
  
  I loved this poem and although it was written from a different perspective I thought you would too.
  
  God Bless you and sustain you,
  Your brother,
  Matt Miller
• 

  Gary Matsuk April 24, 2008 at 2:32pm

  Dear Lonnell,
  Sorry for the time-lapse. Been gone & away from my e-mail. Sometimes a very good thing!
  Man, you really made my day & month for that matter, by your kind and inspiring words. Thanks so much for your response. What a wonderfully simple & powerful Poem. I would love (with your permission) to engrave it on Brass for you, myself, and anyone else you would want it. (ie Anne Hill) Her B'day may have passed but belated is still good. I've been a computer engraver for about 20 years and my machine is limited to an 8"x10".
  Perfect for a Poem. Let me know?
  Also how would I be able to read anything else you've written on doulos.
  Are your Masters & Phd dissertations avaliable to read on-line?
  Again Bro - Thanks for your encouraging, kind & loving words!!
  Please let me know about the engraving & more teachings on "doulos"?
  Thanks,
  Gary
• 

  Teal Morris April 24, 2008 at 12:57pm

  Lonnell,
  
  I wanted to chatt with you about your publishing company. I have a children's book that I would like to see in the book store. Are you farmiliar with Green Leaf Press?
  
  Teal