I love my Master. I adore him. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say I worship him. I wish to serve him in whatever way makes him happy. Service to him gives me purpose, lends meaning to my life. Through him, I am all that I can be.

He may not be the creator of the universe, but in a very real way he is the creator of me. I have been provided with my very on deity here on earth. A Master to treasure. I have indeed been blessed.

Have you ever sat out in the sunshine, enjoyed the warmth on your skin? Have you ever soaked in the radiance from the earth’s closest star? It leaves you with a special, indescribable feeling, warming you through and through. The feeling of well-being, of the perfectness of the world is yours.

I have my own bright star here on earth. I bask in my Master’s glow. His presence fills me with a warmth and light to rival the sun’s, and I know my rightful place on this earth. It is at Master’s feet.

As I was walking out the door, I heard footsteps, or more accurately pawsteps, behind me. I was being followed by one of my dogs.

“What do you want, Bo?” I stopped to pet him and to think about what he was doing. I don’t think he wanted anything but to be with me, see what I was up to, and to share time with me.

I was struck with the thought that I am very much like my dog. My Master is the desire of my heart.

I have been laminating newspaper fotos and things that feature my kids, especially my oldest. I intend to use them for decorating on graduation. Lately I’ve been thinking about protecting some of the things that pertain to Master.

I already laminated some of the pictures we took while he was here.I think I may take a few of these posts and laminate them, as well. Sometimes I need to remind myself of the words I’ve written.

When I write, I often think things through and organize my thoughts more clearly. (Or at least I try to.) If I have something I think is important to say, I will make it into a post. Some of those things I think I need to have handy and review once in a while. I have already gone back and looked things up.

Maybe I should laminate them and keep them with Master’s pictures. They go well together. The face and the words that inspire.

I took a walk through a cemetery on Sunday. I’m kind of strange. I like cemeteries. They tend to be peaceful, quiet and well-maintained. I am not frightened at all. Like I explained to my kids, if you were a ghost, why would you choose to hang out in a cemetery of all places? Wouldn't you be more likely to be in the places you were in life? With the people you loved in life? I sometimes think a cemetery is the most UNLIKELY place to find a ghost.

Sometimes cemeteries can make me feel lonely. I see the gravestones of people who have lived a long life, but are not buried beside a spouse. Did these people live and die alone? What a sad thought.

Cemeteries also give me a feeling of connecting with some truth larger than myself and my world. Death has been called the great equalizer. No matter who you were in life, what you had or didn’t have, what you did or accomplished (or not) the end result is the same. I find in cemeteries the representation of the entire spectrum of human experience. From a long and fruitful life, to those whose lives were cut short; from those whose poor choices brought them to bad ends, to those whose lives were lauded and celebrated, they are all in the cemetery, seemingly a part of the same plane of existence now.