Podcasts about his eyes

The cast and creators of The Tropic Sun and His Eyes join Dope Interviews for a heartfelt conversation about one of the year's most moving independent films.Director Elisée Junior St. Preux explains why filming in Haiti was essential to telling an authentic story, while actor Stevenson Jean discusses portraying grief, trauma, and rediscovering family.Naturi Naughton-Lewis, Two Lewis, and Calixto Chinchilla share how they came aboard the project and why stories centered on Black identity, Caribbean culture, and healing matter now more than ever. This episode explores:Haiti's beauty and legacyFather-son relationshipsMental health and forgivenessThe power of connectionBlack storytelling on a global stageThe making of a Tribeca standoutA powerful conversation about home, healing, and humanity.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/dope-interviews--5006633/support.Follow Dope Interviews on X: https://www.twitter.com/dope_interviewsFollow Warren Shaw on X: https://www.twitter.com/thewarrenshawFollow Warren on IG: https://www.instagram.com/thewarrenshawRock "Dope Interviews" gear: https://19-media-group.myspreadshop.comLooking to book a vacation? Our travel partner Exquiste Travel & Tours has you covered: Call 954-228-5479 or visit https://exquisitetravelandtours.com/Discover our favorite podcast gear and support the show—shop our studio must-haves on our Amazon Affiliate page! https://www.amazon.com/shop/19mediagroupWant to join the conversation or invite us to your platform? Connect with us and share your vision (budget-friendly collaborations welcome)!  https://bit.ly/19Guest

On this week's episode of Female Gaze: The Film Club, Morgan spoke with filmmaker Elisee Junior St Preux and actor Stevenson Jean to discuss their film "The Tropic Sun and His Eyes." The film follows Ruben, portrayed by Jean, as he returns to Haiti to reconnect with his estranged father. The first film shot entirely in Haiti, the film beautifully captures the country as it explores themes about generational trauma, toxic masculinity, and men's mental health. With his feature directorial debut, St Preux has crafted a really stunning first film. In our conversation we discuss the film's themes, working in Haiti, and the film that inspired both as artists. You can check out our full review on the Female Gaze website.You can follow "The Tropic Sun and His Eyes"InstagramYou can follow Female Gaze: The Film ClubInstagramBlueSkyWebsite

Today’s Topics: Father Lawrence Carney joins Terry 1) Gospel – John 17:20-26 – Lifting up His Eyes to heaven, Jesus prayed saying: “I pray not only for these, but also for those who will believe in Me through their word, so that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, that the world may believe that You sent Me. And I have given them the glory You gave Me, so that they may be one, as We are One, I in them and You in Me, that they may be brought to perfection as one, that the world may know that You sent Me, and that You loved them even as You loved Me. Father, they are Your gift to Me. I wish that where I am they also may be with Me, that they may see My glory that You gave Me, because You loved Me before the foundation of the world. Righteous Father, the world also does not know You, but I know You, and they know that You sent Me. I made known to them Your Name and I will make it known, that the love with which You loved Me may be in them and I in them.” Memorial of Saint Christopher Magallanes, Priest, and Companions, Martyrs Saint Christopher and Companions, pray for us! Bishop Sheen quote of the day 2, 3, 4) Father Carney and Terry discuss the devotion to The Holy Face of Jesus

Today’s Topics: 1, 2, 3, 4) Gospel – John 17:11b-19 – Lifting up His Eyes to heaven, Jesus prayed, saying: “Holy Father, keep them in Your Name that You have given Me, so that they may be one just as We are One. When I was with them I protected them in Your Name that You gave Me, and I guarded them, and none of them was lost except the son of destruction, in order that the Scripture might be fulfilled. But now I am coming to You. I speak this in the world so that they may share My joy completely. I gave them Your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. I do not ask that You take them out of the world but that You keep them from the Evil One. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in the truth. Your word is truth. As You sent Me into the world, so I sent them into the world. And I consecrate Myself for them, so that they also may be consecrated in truth.” Memorial of Saint Bernardine of Siena, Priest Saint Bernardine, pray for us! Bishop Sheen quote of the day

Today’s Topics: Joshua Charles joins Terry for Friday with the Fathers 1) Gospel – John 6:1-15 – Jesus went across the Sea of Galilee. A large crowd followed Him, because they saw the signs He was performing on the sick. Jesus went up on the mountain, and there He sat down with His disciples.  The Jewish feast of Passover was near. When Jesus raised His Eyes and saw that a large crowd was coming to Him, He said to Philip, “Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?” He said this to test him, because He Himself knew what He was going to do. Philip answered Him, “Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little.” One of His disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, said to Him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish; but what good are these for so many?” Jesus said, “Have the people recline.”  Now there was a great deal of grass in that place.  So the men reclined, about five thousand in number. Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining, and also as much of the fish as they wanted. When they had had their fill, He said to His disciples, “Gather the fragments left over, so that nothing will be wasted.” So they collected them, and filled twelve wicker baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves that had been more than they could eat. When the people saw the sign He had done, they said, “This is truly the Prophet, the One Who is to come into the world.”  Since Jesus knew that they were going to come and carry Him off to make Him king, He withdrew again to the mountain alone. Bishop Sheen quote of the day 2, 3, 4) In Part Six, Terry and Joshua discuss Early Father of the Church: Saint Pope Leo the Great

Today’s Topics: 1) Gospel – John 6:1-15 – Jesus went across the Sea of Galilee. A large crowd followed Him, because they saw the signs He was performing on the sick. Jesus went up on the mountain, and there He sat down with His disciples.  The Jewish feast of Passover was near. When Jesus raised His Eyes and saw that a large crowd was coming to Him, He said to Philip, “Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?” He said this to test him, because He Himself knew what He was going to do. Philip answered Him, “Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little.” One of His disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, said to Him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish; but what good are these for so many?” Jesus said, “Have the people recline.”  Now there was a great deal of grass in that place.  So the men reclined, about five thousand in number. Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining, and also as much of the fish as they wanted. When they had had their fill, He said to His disciples, “Gather the fragments left over, so that nothing will be wasted.” So they collected them, and filled twelve wicker baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves that had been more than they could eat. When the people saw the sign He had done, they said, “This is truly the Prophet, the One Who is to come into the world.”  Since Jesus knew that they were going to come and carry Him off to make Him king, He withdrew again to the mountain alone. Bishop Sheen quote of the day 2, 3, 4) Bill Donoghue, President of the Catholic League joins Terry to discuss his book: Christianity in the Crosshairs: Ruling Class and Radicals Find a Common Enemy https://tanbooks.com/products/books/christianity-in-the-crosshairs-ruling-class-and-radicals-find-a-common-enemy/?srsltid=AfmBOooJqkZlldE3Ghason-vxlmpnBayYWuv21Z4EexG-ZGMNS19wHqK

Contrairement à la plupart des grands créateurs qui passent leur adolescence à imiter leurs influences, Kate Bush a fait de sa jeunesse un véritable « atelier intérieur ». Dès l'âge de 11 ans, elle commence à chanter et à s'approprier le piano, mais ce qui frappe le plus, c'est la maturité immédiate de ses écrits. À seulement 13 ans, elle compose déjà des chansons qui ne sont en rien des brouillons scolaires ou des textes « mignons » inspirés par la radio de l'époque,. Elle explore des thèmes ambigus et complexes, bien trop adultes pour une jeune fille de son âge.L'un des exemples les plus frappants est la chanson « The Man with the Child in His Eyes », écrite alors qu'elle n'avait que 13 ans. Elle y raconte l'histoire d'un homme mystérieux présent dans sa chambre, que personne d'autre ne voit, mais à qui elle confie tout son amour en secret. La qualité inédite de cette composition, de sa voix et de son interprétation a littéralement subjugué David Gilmour, le guitariste de Pink Floyd, alors au sommet de sa carrière avec The Dark Side of the Moon. Ce titre est d'autant plus exceptionnel qu'il fut enregistré par Kate à seulement 16 ans et qu'il réussit l'exploit de devenir son deuxième tube mondial, succédant au phénomène « Wuthering Heights ». Même un demi-siècle plus tard, la force artistique d'une telle précocité continue de paraître presque impossible.

Family Series:  “The Significant Life of a Dad” with Marcus Jones     Welcome back to the Podcast.  I am so excited to have Marcus Jones on the Podcast.   Marcus is Executive Director of HIS EYES, part of the family of foundations at In-N-Out Burger Corporation. Marcus works to provide hope, immediate support and sustainable solutions to those experiencing homelessness.   Marcus is a long-time advocate for adults with intellectual disabilities and father of four, including his oldest daughter with Down Syndrome. He has written multiple books, including “The Five-Minute Marriage Mentor,” and “Holding Hands with Grace,” which is  all about his journey of fatherhood with a child with intellectual disabilities.  Let's Listen in to my conversation with Marcus.   TAP

It's Halloween season, so the podcast has decided it's the perfect time to share our thoughts on horror in Magic story, as well as some of our favorite scary stories that you can read for free on the Magic Story website. Read these: "His Eyes, All of Them" by Margaret Killjoy: https://magic.wizards.com/en/news/magic-story/his-eyes-all-them-2021-09-17 "Sacrifice" by Michael Yichao: https://magic.wizards.com/en/news/magic-story/sacrifice-2016-03-23 "The Blight We Were Born For" by Ken Troop: https://magic.wizards.com/en/news/magic-story/blight-we-were-born-2016-01-13 "Grasp in the Dark" by RJ Taylor: https://magic.wizards.com/en/news/magic-story/edge-of-eternities-grasp-in-the-dark "Children of the Carnival" by Mira Grant: https://magic.wizards.com/en/news/magic-story/side-two-children-of-the-carnival-part-1 and https://magic.wizards.com/en/news/magic-story/side-three-children-of-the-carnival-part-2

Stupid News 6-23-2025 6am ...It was as Simple as just changing the Sign from Men to Women ...She found a Phone at the Bottom of her Food ...His Eyes are Too Small for that SUV

Today's Topics: 1) Gospel - John 17:20-26 - Lifting up His Eyes to heaven, Jesus prayed saying: "I pray not only for these, but also for those who will believe in Me through their word, so that they may all be one, as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, that the world may believe that You sent Me. And I have given them the glory You gave Me, so that they may be one, as We are One, I in them and You in Me, that they may be brought to perfection as one, that the world may know that You sent Me, and that You loved them even as You loved Me. Father, they are Your gift to Me. I wish that where I am they also may be with Me, that they may see my glory that You gave Me, because You loved Me before the foundation of the world. Righteous Father, the world also does not know You, but I know You, and they know that You sent Me. I made known to them Your Name and I will make it known, that the love with which You loved Me may be in them and I in them." Memorial of Saint Boniface, Bishop and Martyr Saint Boniface, pray for us! Bishop Sheen quote of the day 2, 3, 4) Sam Shamoun on everything you have ever wanted to know about Islam

Today's Topics: 1) Gospel - John 17:1-11a - Jesus raised His Eyes to heaven and said, “Father, the hour has come. Give glory to Your Son, so that Your Son may glorify You, just as You gave Him authority over all people, so that Your Son may give eternal life to all You gave Him. Now this is eternal life, that they should know You, the only true God, and the One Whom You sent, Jesus Christ. I glorified You on earth by accomplishing the work that You gave Me to do. Now glorify Me, Father, with You, with the glory that I had with You before the world began. “I revealed Your Name to those whom You gave Me out of the world. They belonged to You, and You gave them to Me, and they have kept Your word. Now they know that everything You gave Me is from You, because the words you gave to Me I have given to them, and they accepted them and truly understood that I came from You, and they have believed that You sent Me. I pray for them. I do not pray for the world but for the ones You have given Me, because they are Yours, and everything of Mine is Yours and everything of Yours is Mine, and I have been glorified in them. And now I will no longer be in the world, but they are in the world, while I am coming to You.” Memorial of Saint Charles Lwanga, and Companions, Martyrs Saint Charles Lwanga, and Companions, pray for us! Bishop Sheen quote of the day 2, 3, 4) Joshua Charles. on The Four Marks of the Church

Today's Topics: 1, 2, 3, 4) Gospel - John 6:1-15 - Jesus went across the Sea of Galilee. A large crowd followed Him, because they saw the signs He was performing on the sick. Jesus went up on the mountain, and there He sat down with His disciples. The Jewish feast of Passover was near. When Jesus raised His Eyes and saw that a large crowd was coming to Him, He said to Philip, "Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?" He said this to test him, because He Himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered Him, "Two hundred days' wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little." One of His disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, said to Him, "There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish; but what good are these for so many?" Jesus said, "Have the people recline." Now there was a great deal of grass in that place. So the men reclined, about five thousand in number. Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining, and also as much of the fish as they wanted. When they had had their fill, He said to His disciples, "Gather the fragments left over, so that nothing will be wasted." So they collected them, and filled twelve wicker baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves that had been more than they could eat. When the people saw the sign He had done, they said, "This is truly the Prophet, the One Who is to come into the world." Since Jesus knew that they were going to come and carry Him off to make Him king, He withdrew again to the mountain alone. Special Edition with Bishop Strickland on the upcoming Papal Conclave

Brock Lindow returns to Talk Toomey to dive into With Hell in His Eyes, the debut album from his new band Paradise Slaves. He talks melodic vocals, forming the band during COVID, opening for Five Finger Death Punch, and embracing music at 50. Plus: wild tour stories, radio days in Alaska, intense music videos, and hockey dad life. Joshua Toomey on Facebook/Twitter @talktoomeytalk Support Toomey on Patreon www.patreon.com/talktoomey Shop Talk Toomey Depop www.depop.com/talktoomey Subscribe to Talk Toomey on YouTube for in-depth interviews with the most exciting artists in aggressive music, deep dives into iconic artists' discography, and more. #paradiseslaves #36crazyfists #brocklindow #alaska

This week we're joined by special guest, Mother Iliana. Mother Natalia and Mother Iliana talk about a mistake that was made that impacted their relationship. They give background on all the other things going on in their individual lives before the mistake was made, and how those things made the mistake seem much bigger and smaller. They talk about the repair that was made in their relationship, and how each of them experienced the healing.References:What Suffering is Not with Mother IlianaThe Light of His Eyes with Mother IlianaThe Light of His Eyes: Journeying from Self-Contempt to the Father's Delight by Mother IlianaThat's Not the Point Part 1That's Not the Point Part 2Pray for Us: 75 Saints who Sinned, Suffered, and Struggled on Their Way to Holiness by Meg Hunter-KilmerPilgrimage:We're going on pilgrimage! You can find all the details including dates, itinerary, and cost at the 206tours website. Want to hear this directly from Fr. Michael and Mother Natalia? Check out our announcement video.Follow and Contact Us!Follow us on Instagram and FacebookWe're on YouTube!Join our Goodreads GroupFr. Michael's TwitterChrist the Bridegroom MonasteryOur WebsiteOur NonprofitSend us a textSupport the show

Radio Ronin makes Thursday's awesome!!!Chunga is in a bad way... why!?  He sunburned his eyes!!!  HIS EYES!!!!!  How do you sunburn your eyes!?!?The arctic blast is freezing most of the country! Except the one place that REALLY needs things to cool down!  Southern California is on fire again.  This time it's in Santa Clarita and Dan Diego!There's more drama surrounding the future name of the Utah Hockey Club, but Chunga, Chandler, Gregg, and Chris all think there's something very odd about this entire scenario.  Legendary guitar hero John Sykes had passed away.  His influence will live on for decades.CHUNGA POLL: If you could bring back ONE celebrity back from the dead, who would you choose?  You can only pick one! Post your answers below!!!!PLUS, Gregg has a new Big, Dumb, Fun, Movie Shout Out!!!! Listen NOW!!!!It's on www.radioronin.com and everywhere you get your podcasts!!

Radio Ronin makes Thursday's awesome!!!Chunga is in a bad way... why!?  He sunburned his eyes!!!  HIS EYES!!!!!  How do you sunburn your eyes!?!?The arctic blast is freezing most of the country! Except the one place that REALLY needs things to cool down!  Southern California is on fire again.  This time it's in Santa Clarita and Dan Diego!There's more drama surrounding the future name of the Utah Hockey Club, but Chunga, Chandler, Gregg, and Chris all think there's something very odd about this entire scenario.  Legendary guitar hero John Sykes had passed away.  His influence will live on for decades.CHUNGA POLL: If you could bring back ONE celebrity back from the dead, who would you choose?  You can only pick one! Post your answers below!!!!PLUS, Gregg has a new Big, Dumb, Fun, Movie Shout Out!!!! Listen NOW!!!!It's on www.radioronin.com and everywhere you get your podcasts!!

AN UNDERRATED SPINOFF!! Download the PrizePicks today & use code REJECTS to $50 instantly when you play $5! https://prizepicks.onelink.me/LME0/RE... Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones Full Movie Reaction Watch Along:  https://www.patreon.com/thereelrejects Follow Us On Socials:  Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/reelrejects/  Tik-Tok: https://www.tiktok.com/@thereelrejects?lang=en Twitter: https://x.com/thereelrejects Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheReelRejects/ Andrew Gordon & Tara Erickson are BACK to continue their Paranormal Activity journey as they give their FIRST-TIME Reaction, Commentary, Analysis, Easter Eggs, Breakdown, & Full Movie Spoiler Review for the first spinoff in the series, The Marked Ones!! The 5th installment in the Paranormal Activity franchise sees The Midwives' machinations spreading beyond the likes of Katie & Kristi to a new group of California teens making for some fresh haunting with a latino twist. Andrew & Tara REACT to all the Best Scenes & Scariest Moments including Simon Says, The Trapdoor, Strange Powers, Demonic Strength, Something in His Eyes, Cleansing the Evil Spirit, Surrounded by Witches, Katie and Micah, & Beyond!! Follow Andrew Gordon on Socials:  YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@MovieSource Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/agor711/?hl=en Twitter:  https://twitter.com/Agor711 Follow Tara Erickson: Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@TaraErickson Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/taraerickson/ Twitter:  https://twitter.com/thetaraerickson Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Sermon Outline: God is Sovereign (Ps. 11:4) A. His Throne, 4a B. His Eyes, 4b and knows our hearts! (Ps. 11:5) A. The Righteous, 5a B. The Wicked, 5b

Chuck Edwards - "Downtown Soulville" - 45 [0:00:00] Music behind DJ: Lebaron Strings - "Baby I Owe You Something" - 45 [0:03:20] The Adorables - "School's All Over" - 45 [0:06:15] The Adorables - "Daddy Please" - 45 [0:07:26] The Adorables - "Devil in His Eyes" - 45 [0:10:02] The Adorables - "Be" - 45 [0:12:46] The Adorables - "Ooh Boy" - 45 [0:15:52] The Adorables - "Deep Freeze" - 45 [0:16:51] Music behind DJ: Lebaron Strings - "Baby I Owe You Something" - 45 [0:19:18] Pat Lewis - "Can't Shake It Loose" - 45 [0:21:34] Pat Lewis - "Warning" - 45 [0:23:42] Pat Lewis - "No Baby No" - 45 [0:26:05] Pat Lewis - "(I Owe You) Something" - 45 [0:31:01] Music behind DJ: Lebaron Strings - "Baby I Owe You Something" - 45 [0:32:06] Pat Lewis - "Let's Go Together" - 45 [0:33:49] Pat Lewis - "I'll Wait" - 45 [0:36:56] Pat Lewis - "Look at What I Almost Missed" - 45 [0:39:01] Pat Lewis - "The Loser" - 45 [0:42:25] Pat Lewis - "No One to Love" - 45 [0:43:59] Lil Bob and the Lollipops - "Peaches (You Got Love)" - 45 [0:47:55] Lloyd Hendricks - "The Sno-Cone" - 45 [0:50:24] Richard Knight - "Back to School" - 45 [0:52:48] The T.M.G.'s - "Aggravation" - 45 [0:56:57] Music behind DJ: Dave Hamilton - "Cracklin Bread" - 45 [0:58:32] https://www.wfmu.org/playlists/shows/143806

Terry Barber and Jesse Romero React to Harrison Butker's Commencement Speech as it echoes what Barber and Romero have been saying on their previous shows. Barber and Romero use the Kansas City Chief's Kicker and his speech to call out the Hierarchy of the Catholic Church. Jesse Romero later interviews Bob Trussell on his new book from Sophia Press: https://sophiainstitute.com/product/the-logic-that-god-exists/   Today's Topics: 1) Gospel - Jn 17:20-26 - Lifting up His Eyes to heaven, Jesus prayed, saying: “Holy Father, keep them in Your Name that You have given Me, so that they may be one just as We are One. When I was with them I protected them in Your Name that You gave Me, and I guarded them, and none of them was lost except the son of destruction, in order that the Scripture might be fulfilled. But now I am coming to You. I speak this in the world so that they may share My joy completely. I gave them Your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. I do not ask that You take them out of the world but that You keep them from the Evil One. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in the truth. Your word is truth. As You sent Me into the world, so I sent them into the world. And I consecrate Myself for them, so that they also may be consecrated in truth.” Bishop Sheen quote of the day 2) Harrison Butker commencement speech at Catholic college sends woke leftist media over the edge https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JS7RIKSaCc 3, 4) Bob Trussell on his book: The Logic that God Exists (Sophia Institute Press) https://sophiainstitute.com/product/the-logic-that-god-exists/

PragerU makes a feature on this episode of The TJ Show comparing the moral case of both capitalism and socialism. Terry Barber and Jesse Romero later go on to point out how Christian's have been victims of too many attacks, as of recent. Barber and Romero encourage churches to go into wartime mode. Activating all members of your local Knights of Colombus or strategically placing members are just some ways to avoid any kind of brutal attack. In a Wartime Church, the priest actually I called upon to lead his parish as a spiritual warrior and we encourage everyone to be vigilant. Today's Topics: 1) Gospel - Jn 17:11b-19 - Lifting up His Eyes to heaven, Jesus prayed, saying: “Holy Father, keep them in Your Name that you have given Me, so that they may be one just as We are One. When I was with them I protected them in Your Name that You gave Me, and I guarded them, and none of them was lost except the son of destruction, in order that the Scripture might be fulfilled. But now I am coming to You. I speak this in the world so that they may share My joy completely. I gave them Your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. I do not ask that You take them out of the world but that You keep them from the Evil One. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in the truth. Your word is truth. As You sent Me into the world, so I sent them into the world. And I consecrate Myself for them, so that they also may be consecrated in truth.” Bishop Sheen quote of the day 2) A moral case for capitalism https://www.prageru.com/video/a-moral-case-for-capitalism 3) The war time Church https://news.gab.com/2024/05/the-war-time-church/ 4) Dropping the (spiritual) blinders https://spiritdailyblog.com/inspiration/dropping-the-blinders

Saint Athanasius was 4th Century Bishop who was fighting a heresy that consumed popular opinion. With zealous and faithful preaching, Bishop Athanasius was responsible for numerous letters clarifying the deposit of the faith and the teachings of the Catholic Church. In times like today, many Catholics have been put in a situation similar to Bishop Athanasius. It may seem hard but Bishop encourages that is exactly where we should be. The world does not want to accept Christ's message and it is the role of the Catholic Church to preach it anyway. Today's Topics: 1, 2, 3, 4) Gospel - Jn 17:11b-19 - Lifting up His Eyes to heaven, Jesus prayed, saying: “Holy Father, keep them in Your Name that You have given Me, so that they may be one just as We are One. When I was with them I protected them in Your Name that You gave Me, and I guarded them, and none of them was lost except the son of destruction, in order that the Scripture might be fulfilled. But now I am coming to You. I speak this in the world so that they may share My joy completely. I gave them Your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. I do not ask that You take them out of the world but that You keep them from the Evil One. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in the truth. Your word is truth. As You sent Me into the world, so I sent them into the world. And I consecrate Myself for them, so that they also may be consecrated in truth.” Memorial of Saint Isidore, Bishop and Doctor of the Church Saint Isidore, pray for us! Bishop Strickland and Terry discuss the need to model the fourth century Saint Athanasius, a Bishop who suffered great persecution by those in the Church because he spoke the truth in defending the Deposit of Faith

What's up, dudes? I'm running up that hill with Mike and Rusty from Snow in Southtown to talk about Kate: Kate Bush Christmas Special and her song “December Will Be Magic Again!” Released in 1979, it proves that the singer, only 21 at the time, was already a tour de force. A year later she released the Christmas song as a single.The special is a mix of live performances and choreographed dance to prerecorded music. The live portion was recorded BBC Pebble Mills Studios in front of an audience. The music for the dance was done at EMI Studios in London. After a rotoscoped animated introduction, Kate launches into renditions off “Violin,” Gymnopédie No. 1 by Satie, and “Symphony in Blue.” “Them Heavy People” follows with Kate garbed in sequins. Immediately a trio sings Peter Gabriel's in, and he serenades the audience with “Here Comes the Flood.” Kate performs “Ran Tan Waltz” then premieres “December Will Be Magic Again” on solo piano. Next comes “The Wedding List” about a vengeful bride and the duet “Another Day” with Peter Gabriel about a failed marriage. Finally, Kate enthralls us with “Egypt,” “The Man with a Child in His Eyes,” and “Don't Push Your Foot on the Heart Brake.” Does she hop in a garbage can and come out dressed like Sandy from the end of “Grease?” Why, yes. Yes she does.Stevie Nicks-like flowing black outfit? Yep. Fake beard and “Fiddler on the Roof” getup? Uh huh.  Kate doing interpretative dance superimposed over her playing piano? Definitely! So grab your violin and head to Egypt to this episode about Kate Bush!Snow in SouthtownFB: @snowinsouthtownTwitter: @snowinsouthtownIG: @snowinsouthtownPatreon: @snowinsouthtownCheck us out on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Totally Rad Christmas Mall & Arcade, Teepublic.com, or TotallyRadChristmas.com! Later, dudes!

The Man with a Storm in His Eyes – Volume 4NOTE: If you have not listened to Volumes 1, 2 and 3 of this 4-part miniseries, please pause this episode, and go listen to the first three installments, otherwise the story won't make much sense.Over Thanksgiving I spent a few days house- and cat-sitting for a friend. The moment I met Russell the cat I was completely charmed by the milky cloudiness of his eyes. What fascinated me most was that he appeared to be able to see just fine... to the point where sometimes he appeared to be seeing things that I myself couldn't see. I found myself inspired and fully credit Russell with breaking through my writer's block.This story is available in written form in its entirety exclusively to Patreon Supporters, visit the link below to join.Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveriContact: theskylarkbell@gmail.comThe Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.comThe Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbellAuthor/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.comAll music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.comCannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.musicFULL TRANSCRIPT:Things with Wings Productions presents: The Man with a Storm in His Eyes - A Skylark Special Miniseries written exclusively for The Skylark Bell podcast. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  Before I begin, if you haven't listened to the first three installments of this story, I strongly suggest you hit pause on this episode and go listen to volumes 1, 2 and 3, otherwise this episode won't make much sense. In last week's episode, Marie broke the sisters' one rule and brewed a cup of the forbidden tea for herself, but she was interrupted by their early return. Disgraced and embarrassed, she returned home... only for the twins to appear outside her window a few days later.Today we conclude this wild and eerie tale... fair warning, the ending made me cry the first time I re-read the story in its entirety.Lastly, I'd like to thank Lauren and Rachel for the use of their apartment over the Thanksgiving holiday. The opportunity to house and cat sit for them gave me the calm and space I needed to to start writing, and in the end, their cat, Russell, provided the inspiration for the story I wanted to write. The spark has grown into a flame, and there are more stories to come in the future, so stay tuned.But for now, it's time to get settled in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink... perhaps a handkerchief, just in case… and let's read the conclusion of The Man with a Storm in His Eyes. The spell broken, I shook my head and scurried down the stairs and out the front door to collect the book they had left behind. I ran my hand over the smoothness of its cover, and noted the leather was embossed with a collection of odd symbols. I clutched the book to my chest and hurried back up to my flat as quickly as my fuzzy slippers would allow, completely oblivious to the neighbours gawking at the sight of me outside in the cold wearing only a short frilly nighty. I threw myself onto the sofa and placed the book on my lap, puzzling over the symbols on the cover before unbuckling its leather strap and cracking it open. I flipped through the book haphazardly and was met with page upon page of tight cursive handwriting. Every so often I would land on a carefully drawn illustration with labels and notations. About halfway through the book I found a folded piece of paper tucked between the pages. I gingerly pulled it out, the ornate handwriting was different than the one filling up the pages of the book. I squinted in concentration as I began to read:Dearest Marie,You must have endless questions about the goings on at 51 Dimly Court. We did not mean for you to get pulled into the vortex of our stormy existence, and I apologise for our poor handling of the situation the day you left. Winifred and I have decided to share with you the story that is neither ours, nor Russell's, nor even little Jones'. The story is our mother's. Her name was Fiona Merriwell, and she was what many would, for better or worse, call... a witch.  Our mother grew up in the “old world”, a time and culture filled with mystique and superstition. It would be easy to brush aside these traditions as hogwash, but as you now know, there was truth to at least some of it. Our maternal grandmother was a gifted seer and would warn people of things to come, or describe things that had happened long before any of them were born. Our mother was always envious of this gift, but her talents lay elsewhere. She was an expert healer and could create concoctions to heal most ailments common in her time. Her one wish, however, was to find a way to recreate her mother's capabilities using her knowledge of plants, herbs, tinctures, and the like. She made it her life mission... and it cost not only her, but several of us dearly. The teas in the canisters were created by her, and she was the last one to brew a cup, until you came along, of course... but I'm getting ahead of myself. Our mother raised us on her own after our father passed away. She worked odd jobs and kept herself busy making salves and teas to sell at local markets. Behind the scenes, however, she continued to work on her plan to create a tea that would allow her to see through veils of time, and she eventually succeeded, but things did not go as planned. She had just finished perfecting a recipe one day when there was a knock at the door. A young man, sharply dressed in a grey wool suit, stood on our front steps, he was selling top-of-the-line cookware. Our mother, always willing to indulge young entrepreneurs, invited him in and put the kettle on. She was fully intending to simply listen to his presentation, but as their conversation wore on an idea crossed her mind. The young man mentioned that his brother had recently passed away, and that he missed his him terribly, and wished he could see him again, if only for a moment. The gears in our mother's mind began turning; if she served her tea to the young man and it was effective, it might provide him with an opportunity to see his brother again, and if it failed, he would be none-the-wiser and would simply have enjoyed a nice cup of tea, no harm done.I must say at this point that our mother was neither conniving nor cruel, she was entirely under the impression that the effects of the tea would be temporary, there was no way for her to know her spontaneous decision and, ironically, lack of foresight would change the course of all our lives.And so it was that Russell J. Holcomb, luxury cookware salesman, came to sit at our kitchen table and drink the tea our mother had aptly named Violet Storm. He remained in our kitchen for a few hours, demonstrating his goods. Winifred and I came home our jobs at the hospital partway through his sales pitch and sat at the table listening to him, enthralled. Russell was very charismatic; he would certainly have had a successful career in sales if he had never had the misfortune of knocking on our door. Winifred was especially taken with him; she would later tell me it was his smile that won her over so quickly. Little did she know we would only rarely ever see that smile again.We were there when the tea began to take effect. I remember it so clearly because, unfortunately for Russell, there was a storm brewing outside. Winifred and I had rushed home from work due to the dark, threatening clouds hovering in the sky above. We would later learn that stormy weather exacerbates the effects of this specific tea... but once again, I'm getting ahead of myself. Russell was just finishing a demonstration that involved cooking an omelet, he slid it onto a plate and placed it on the table for us to see. It was then that he stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. His eyes darted back and forth as a mist began to rise in them. He started to shake and pointed at something behind us. The three of us turned in unison, but there was nothing there. Our mother crouched next to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and asked if he was okay. Through rapid breaths Russell explained that he could see other people, dozens of other people, all semi-transparent, moving throughout the kitchen. Walking, cooking, sitting at the table... he could even see different furniture, and he could see grass on the ground as well as different versions of the kitchen floor, layer upon layer upon layer of the past all visible at once. He let out a scream that still echoes in my mind to this day, then squeezed his eyes shut and clutched his head in his hands shouting, “Make it stop! Please! Make them go away! Make it all go away!”Distraught, our mother wrapped a dishtowel around his eyes and tied it at the back of his head, then lead him to the sofa to lay down and wait until the effect of the tea wore off. Once the storm passed the effects did diminish considerably, but the clouds never left Russell's eyes, and he never stopped seeing relics of the past all around him at all times. Our mother settled him in the empty flat upstairs, no one had lived there for years, and it didn't have much of a past to speak of, or see. The outside world was far too overwhelming for Russell, so he remained in the upstairs flat from that day forward. Because he had no family to speak of, Russell decided it was best to leave him flagged as a missing person to the outside world, it seemed simpler than trying to explain the reality of what had happened. The four of us agreed to never speak of that day's events, and our mother immediately set to work trying to create a remedy.Days turned into weeks and months. Winifred spent a lot of time upstairs keeping Russell company, and the two fell deeply in love. One day our mother announced she had come up with a remedy, a tea she called Black Moon. She brewed a pot, and Winifred volunteered to bring it up to Russell, promising to report back if it had any noticeable effects. But as Winifred was climbing the stairs to the apartment, a shadow of doubt came over her... What if this new concoction made Russell worse? Her heart ached at the thought of involuntarily harming him in any way, so she sat on the top stair outside his door and slowly drank the cup of tea herself to see how it would affect her before giving any to Russell. Russell never did drink any Black Moon tea, because within a short period of time Winifred came crashing down the stairs screaming and waving her arms in the air as though swatting away a swarm of bees. Unlike Russell, her eyes never clouded over, instead they turned into two deep, dark, inky pools. We came to discover that Winifred was now plagued with incessant visions of the future: Buildings being torn down, new ones being erected, wars, unrest, and the cacophony of centuries of living beyond anything she'd ever known... Her condition worsened during the new moon when the sky was at its darkest. On these nights, her existence became nearly unbearable. Layers of the future would wrap around her like a snake wraps its body around its prey, squeezing the air out of its lungs, and effectively crushing it. On these nights,Winnifred would wear a blindfold, which helped to alleviate some of the stress of her condition. I paused my reading then, thinking back to Christmas Eve dinner with Russell, and his odd behaviour as the storm rolled in. He must have been suffering through a similar experience, a ramping up of the effects of his condition... My heart ached for him, for Winifred who was similarly afflicted, for Florence who was tasked with caring for them both, and for Jones the cat who had now joined their ranks. I heaved a sigh, then dove back into the letter. In our mother's mind, the tea she had concocted to view the future would have cancelled out the tea Russell had ingested which gave him visions of the past, but after seeing what happened to Winifred, we didn't dare let him drink any. It became difficult for Russell and Winifred to be in the same room, they were essentially living on different plains now, he in the past, she in the future, with only a bridge of present between them so small they could never stand on it long enough to truly be in one another's company. Heartbroken, Winnifred stopped going upstairs to visit, and only rarely ever spoke.Our mother, devastated by the tragedy she had inadvertently unleashed on our family, made one last attempt at setting things straight. She poured over her craft for several months, studying herbs and tinctures used by our ancestors. Some ingredients she foraged for herself, others she sourced locally or from overseas, until finally one day she came to us with the resulting Golden Sunset tea. This tea, she was certain, would fix both Winifred and Russell's conditions, but she insisted she would drink a cup first to ensure there were no unexpected results. As you may have guessed, the results were, indeed, unexpected, and very tragic.The last entry in our mother's book was written moments after she drank the Golden Sunset tea. She detailed a scene from the future, of a young woman living in our flat, and a cat named Jones with glowing amber eyes. She said this woman would be instrumental to the future of our family history as she would carry on guarding the tea until she reached the age of 93. That is where the diary ends, there were no details beyond that.After drinking her tea and writing in her diary, our mother walked out our front door and stood on the stoop. Winifred and I stood at the window, watching her back as she stared at the world outside, motionless. Perhaps a few minutes went by, perhaps a few hours, neither one of us could tell, but eventually our mother exclaimed “It's all so beautiful!”, then she fell to the ground. Shaken out of our reverie we ran to her, but she was already gone. Presumably, whatever it was the tea caused her to see, it was more than the human mind and body could take.In the decades that followed I continued to care for Mr. Holcomb and Winifred. Winifred would provide guidance on future events and occurrences, which is how we knew you were planning on drinking the tea, and that we were going to arrive just in time to stop you. We tried to change the course of history and arrive in time to also prevent Jones from drinking the tea, but as with every other time we've attempted to change the future, we failed.From what Winifred has shared, and she only shares things she feels are absolutely necessary, I am to make you the beneficiary of our estate upon our passing, which, Winifred has assured me, is much farther away than anyone would ever dream. Perhaps our mother's longevity tea worked better than her other ones. I wish you all the best Marie. We shall not see you again after today, but from what I can gather, someday in the distant future, you will once again see us. Take care,FlorenceI refolded the letter and placed it back between the pages of the book, then closed the cover, re-buckled the strap, and placed the book on the coffee table in front of me. There would be ample time to sift through its pages down the road, right now I needed to process the events of the past week.I carried on with my life over the next few days. Those days turned into weeks, months, years, and before I knew it nearly three decades had gone by. In that time, I earned a nursing degree and used some of the knowledge from Fiona's diary to help patients. I married and divorced, had two children whose careers eventually took them to opposite ends of the country, adopted and went through the heartache of saying goodbye to 3 different cats, all with glowing amber eyes, and... well... I grew older. Not nearly as old as the twins however, who died within days of one another at the ripe old age of 103. It was on a Wednesday afternoon a couple of weeks after the twins' passing that my postman Gordy placed a small package on the stoop outside my front door. I happened to be looking out the window when he came and waved to him as he carried on to my neighbour's house. He smiled and waved back; he was always such a pleasant young man. I reached into my post box and pulled out a small stack of letters, then bent down to pick up the package. I felt my stomach tighten when I saw the return address for the solicitor's office on the parcel. I knew this day would come, this wasn't a surprise per se, and I had only briefly met the sisters on two occasions nearly 30 years ago, yet I still felt the sting of tears in my eyes. Inside the package was a letter from the solicitor detailing the legal intricacies of the estate and the steps I needed to take to finalise things. The only other item in the box was an old antique key. I recognized it immediately as the key Florence had left for me that fateful day all those years ago. I placed the key in my palm and closed my fingers around it. If I focused enough, I could almost feel a low electrical pulse emanating from it.My first time stepping back through the front door of 51 Dimly court was surreal. Everything was exactly the same as it had been the last time I was there. Every trinket, every book, every curtain and pillow and blanket, even down to the plush towel and robe set I had used after taking a bath that Boxing Day afternoon three decades ago. I walked through the flat in wonder, gently tracing my finger along the edges of the sisters' belongings, the items strewn atop their dressers and vanities. Winifred's copy of The House on the Strand was still on her nightstand, I understood the significance now, with her experiencing time differently than the rest of us. I stood at the bottom of the stairway to Russel's flat for a long time staring at the off-center number 7 on the door. I'd read his obituary years ago, I'd lost track of how long it had been exactly, but I remembered it said he had passed peacefully in his sleep with his loved ones, presumably Winifred and Florence, by his side. Eventually I made my way up the stairs and let myself into Russell's flat, which was also frozen in time. I stepped into his office, noting his satchel was still on the desk. I peered inside and saw a collection of marketing materials for cookware. This was the bag he was carrying the day he disappeared, that fateful day he met Fiona Merriwell and her enchanted, or cursed depending on how one views these things, collection of teas.I stepped into the little kitchen; bright sunshine was streaming through the window. I smiled as I remembered sitting at the table sharing a meal with Russell, telling stories, and laughing together. He was a lovely man, lovely and lonely. His fate was not one anyone would have been envious of, unable to leave the confines of his apartment, destined to pine away for an impossible love just within his reach but never attainable... my heart ached for him.I lived on in the flat for forty more years, keeping everything the same as it had always been. I eventually retired from my decades-long career as head nurse at a care home, and before I knew it found myself older than the twins were when I first met them. I surprised myself gravitating toward some of Florence's dresses and coats. Winifred's wardrobe, however, remained too gothic for my taste. As time wore on, I became rather uninterested in the outside world, preferring to focus on my own private little secret world inside the sisters' flat. I never stopped thinking of it as the sisters' flat. My children rarely visited and would only stay in town long enough for a meal, always at a fancy restaurant of course, before returning to their busy lives, and I was okay with that because they were happy.And now we've come to today. Today is my 93rd birthday. I am celebrating alone, and rather enjoying my own company. I finished my cup of tea 15 minutes ago; I can feel its effect taking hold. I see a warm glow around everything in the flat, as though every object has been wrapped in goldleaf and the setting sun is shining through the window, even though in reality today the sky is grey and loaded with a mass of storm clouds. I walk to the sitting room and lower my tired body into a chair by the window, turning to face the inside of the room. I watch as the past fades into view. I see Florence and Winifred as children with their mother reading stories by the fireplace, the same fireplace in which the contents of the tea canisters and Fiona's diary are burning right now. I see young Russell looking dapper in his grey wool suit with his satchel strapped over his shoulder, he's coming in to do a presentation of the luxury cookware he is selling, and Fiona is guiding him toward the kitchen. I see all the events Florence described in her letter unfold before my eyes.Eventually I see myself walking into the flat for the first time, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other waiting for Winifred to speak through the garish red lipstick streaked across her mouth. I marvel at my youth, how naïve and innocent I was then. I watch the entire Christmas holiday unfold, cooking for Mr. Holcomb, rushing outside to rescue Jones, cuddling with him on the sofa, staring into his beautiful golden eyes. Then the fateful night when he drank the tea...Layers of past begin to pile atop one another in rapid succession now, and I see events flash before me. First, I watch the twins grow old and eventually disappear altogether. Then I see myself, older, but still young by my current standards, returning to the flat after several decades away. I watch myself age at a breakneck pace and eventually see myself, dressed the way I am dressed right now, walk into the room. I gasp as I catch of glimpse of my eyes, now turned into two glowing orbs filled with a swirling mass of mauve, gold, coral, and burnt orange. Now I understand why Fiona named this tea Golden Sunset. I watch as I gingerly lower myself into the chair I am sitting in at this very moment. That's when things truly take off, when past, present and future finally collide.In a flash of amber, coral, and lilac everything sets off at lightning speed. I see the future, I see what happens to me, what happens in the decades and centuries beyond this moment in time. I see the people who lived here before the twins, before Fiona, and those who will live here after. I see the field that was here before the apartment building, and the structure that will be built after its demolition decades from now. I turn to look out the window, the view is breathtaking. I can see everything that has come before and everything yet to come, all awash in a swirl sunset colours. It's chaotic, it's heartbreaking, it's electric, it's inspiring, it's... life......and it's all so beautiful.Thank you so much for listening, I truly hope you enjoyed The Man with a Storm in His Eyes. It has been my pleasure to write and record this story for you, and I am very much looking forward to doing it again. Stay tuned for more spooky and unusual tales in the future!If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon. Patreon supporters get early access to ad-free podcast episodes, digital downloads of my music, and so much more. It's the first place I share my creations. However, if you prefer not to subscribe, but would like to make a one-time contribution, you can do so via your podcast platform. Any and all financial support is greatly appreciated.Once again, thank you for listening – I'm Melissa Oliveri, writer, composer, and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast. Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-contentAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Cet épisode… c'est l'histoire de l'enregistrement d'un groupe de musiciens qui jouera un rôle important dans le développement de la musique des années 1960, ainsi que sur les premières années de Stax Records, un label qui deviendra aussi important que Chess, Motown ou Sun. Aujourd'hui, nous nous penchons sur "Green Onions" de Booker T. and the MGs, et sur la façon dont un violoniste blanc a accidentellement donné le coup d'envoi au label le plus important de la musique soul (celle du sud) Booker T. and the MGs, "Green Onions" Hoyt Jackson, "Enie Meanie Minie Moe" Ray Scott, "Boppin' Wig Wam WIllie" Hoyt Jackson, "It's A Little More Like Heaven (Where You Are)" Hank Locklin "It's a Little More Like Heaven" Johnny Cash, "You're the Nearest Thing to Heaven" Fred Byler, "Blue Roses" Don Willis, "Boppin' High School Baby" Warren Smith, "Rock and Roll Ruby" The Vel-Tones, "Fool in Love" Bill Black Combo : "Smokie (Part 2)" Rufus Thomas, "Bear Cat" Rufus and Carla Thomas, "'Cause I Love You" Carla Thomas, "Gee Whizz, Look at His Eyes" The Mar-Keys, "Last Night" The Mar-Keys, "The Morning After" [Excerpt: The Triumphs, “Burnt Biscuits” William Bell, "You Don't Miss Your Water" Nick Charles, "The Three Dogwoods" Billy Lee Riley et les Little Green Men, "Flyin' Saucers Rock 'n' Roll" Booker T and the MGs, "Behave Yourself" Booker T. and the MGs, "Green Onions" Johnny Jenkins, "Spunky" Otis Redding, "Hey Hey Baby" Otis Redding, "These Arms of Mine"

The Man with a Storm in His Eyes – Volume 3NOTE: If you have not listened to Volumes 1 and 2 of this 4-part miniseries, please pause this episode, and go listen to the first two installments, otherwise the story won't make much sense.Over Thanksgiving I spent a few days house- and cat-sitting for a friend. The moment I met Russell the cat I was completely charmed by the milky cloudiness of his eyes. What fascinated me most was that he appeared to be able to see just fine... to the point where sometimes he appeared to be seeing things that I myself couldn't see. I found myself inspired and fully credit Russell with breaking through my writer's block.This story is available in written form in its entirety exclusively to Patreon Supporters, visit the link below to join.Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveriContact: theskylarkbell@gmail.comThe Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.comThe Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbellAuthor/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.comAll music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.comCannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.musicFULL TRANSCRIPT:Things with Wings Productions presents: The Man with a Storm in His Eyes - A Skylark Special Miniseries written exclusively for The Skylark Bell podcast. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  Before I begin, if you haven't listened to the first two installments of this story, I strongly suggest you hit pause on this episode and go listen to volume 1 and volume 2, otherwise this episode won't make much sense. In last week's episode, Marie rescued a kitten named Jones, and made the startling discovery that Mr. Holcomb had been labeled a missing person decades prior.Now, get settled in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let's dive back into the story.I didn't need to worry about waking the next morning as Jones took it upon himself to serve as an alarm clock when he felt it was time to be fed. “You little rascal, you're just loving this aren't you?” I teased as I placed a bowl of turkey pieces with a strong pour of gravy in front of him. I was about to go take a shower when the phone on the kitchen wall rang so loudly I was sure the neighbours three houses away could hear it. I grabbed my chest with my hand and waited a moment to catch my breath before lifting the receiver off the hook. “Hello?” I asked tentatively. “Oh, hello Marie dear, this is Florence,” came the voice on the other end of the line. “I was simply calling to let you know we plan on returning home early tomorrow morning. I trust things are going well?” she asked.I could still feel my heart beating out of my chest, but I managed to compose myself enough to reply. “Yes, everything is great. Mr. Holcomb is quite lovely. Oh, I should probably tell you, I found a stray kitten that I'm caring for, I hope that's okay?” I figured I should probably make mention of the fact that I'd brought an animal into their home.There was a moment of silence at the other end of the line, and I grew nervous that Florence was displeased. “That's quite alright dear. I'm sure Jones is thoroughly enjoying spending the holidays with you,” she eventually replied, and I heaved a sigh of relief. “Right then, we'll see you in the morning,” she added before promptly ending the call.I put the phone back in its cradle. Something about the conversation was bothering me... I stood barefoot on the cold ceramic kitchen floor running the conversation through my head again, then it finally hit me: How did Florence know the kitten's name was Jones? On cue, Jones wandered into the room and rubbed up against my legs. I picked him up and held him at arm's length. Of course! Jones had a name tag, perhaps Florence had seen him before, maybe he even had a reputation for visiting neighbourhood homes and getting a few extra meals out of it. “I knew you were a rascal!” I giggled. I pulled him in and bumped my nose against his, mesmerized by those unearthly amber eyes, before gently placing him back on the ground.I showered and put on a festive sweater and some dressy trousers before heading upstairs to join Mr. Holcomb for Boxing Day breakfast. I told him about the rowdy boys and the kitten, and how Jones and I had eaten Christmas dinner by candlelight before I spent a couple of hours reading Alice in Wonderland in the reading room. I was itching to ask him about the newspaper clippings, but something about his expression stopped me. His brow was knit, and his eyes had turned that stormy charcoal grey again. I realized then that I'd been speaking non-stop since we'd sat down, so I quieted myself and waited for him to speak.“So... Jones is here now,” was all he said. I nodded but wasn't sure if he noticed as he seemed to be staring off into space. I let the quiet linger between us, hoping he would elaborate, but his lips remained tightly pressed together.“Mr. Holcomb...” I began, unsure of how to broach the subject. “Your questions will all be answered in due time, my dear Marie,” he said, sparing me the trouble of asking. “There are things that should not be known before one is ready to know them...” he mused obscurely, still with that faraway, stormy look in his eyes. I didn't dare ask him to elaborate, I would just have to be patient. We spent the rest of breakfast speaking of innocuous things; childhood Christmas gifts, funny stories about relatives falling off chairs or spilling food and drink on one another at holiday parties. Though we only talked about surface things, the conversation was merry, and Mr. Holcomb's eyes progressively morphed from steely grey to an appealing feathery white.It was past noon by the time I got back downstairs to the sisters' flat. Jones meowed at me in greeting and climbed up my shin to be picked up. I curled him into my arms like a baby and stared into his eyes, bordering on chartreuse in the midday light, while feeling the soft rumble of his purring against my chest. I felt the weight of the world disappear then, there was such comfort in the softness of his fur and his desire for companionship. A sudden chill passed through the air causing Jones and I to shiver in unison. “I think I'm going to run a bath,” I said, lowering him to the hardwood floor. “Don't worry, I have no expectation that you will want to get anywhere near the water,” I laughed. “Why don't I make a fire in the fireplace for you, and you can wait for me on the sofa with a blanket?” I suddenly became aware that I was speaking to Jones as though he were human and felt simultaneously ridiculous and grateful that there was no one around to hear. I got Jones settled then made my way to the bathroom. I took the time to admire the vintage Art Deco tile pattern on the floor and walls before turning the hot water faucet on the claw foot tub to its maximum, then adding a bit of cold water and two capfuls of green apple bath bubbles. I placed a thick fluffy towel and a bathrobe on a nearby wooden stool in preparation for the aftermath of my soak, then draped my clothes over the edge of the sink before carefully slipping into the steaming hot water. I closed my eyes and breathed in the sweet, fruity fragrance while listening to the crackling of the bubbles.I sat quietly in the tub, keeping thoughts of cloudy eyes and mysterious disappearances at bay, choosing to think instead of what I would prepare for dinner and which tea from the three forbidden tea canisters I would brew first. Eventually the water grew uncomfortably tepid, and the skin on my fingers began to wrinkle. I used my toe to pull the chain attached to the bathtub stopper and let the water drain a moment before standing to step out of the tub. The towel and bathrobe were both luxuriously plush, and I relished the warm, cozy feeling of being wrapped in them. I walked to the living room and rooted through my weekender bag for a fresh change of clothes. Jones was fast asleep on the sofa, curled up on a throw pillow with the glow of the fire reflecting off the sheen of his velvety fur.I made my way to the kitchen and perused the pantry and refrigerator contents for inspiration. I grabbed some zucchini, carrots, peas, and broccoli from the fridge and a box of pasta out of the cupboard. With a little butter, cream, and spoonful of flour I could whip together a mean pasta primavera, there was even a block of fresh parmesan cheese in the fridge to top it all off. I still had leftover rum raisin cake and custard for dessert. “That will pair perfectly with a cup of forbidden tea!” I chucked to myself out loud in the empty kitchen. I set to work making a roux and roasting the vegetables. My mum had always loved my pasta primavera; the secret was roasting the vegetables rather than boiling or steaming them, the caramelization added a lovely depth of flavour to the dish. “Jones, time to eat!” I called as I placed a bowl of shredded turkey with a dollop of cream sauce at his place setting across the table from me. I set my plate on the table as well, then gave each of us a generous sprinkle of parmesan. “Now I don't want you to think this is what you get to eat every day, this is a Boxing Day special, okay?” I said to him as he hopped onto the table. I patted the top of his head then sat down to eat. A flood of memories of suppers with my mother came to me as I took my first bite. I could see her smile, hear her laugh... what I wouldn't do to see and hear her again...Jones finished his meal long before I did and stretched out in front of the stove, rolling onto his back to let its warmth tickle his belly. I cleared the table and quickly did the washing up, then put the kettle on. While waiting for the water to boil I unwrapped the rum raisin cake, cut a generous piece and placed it onto a plate. “Perfect timing!” I exclaimed as the kettle sounded its whistle. I turned off the stove, then stood in front of the shelf with the three glass tea canisters, I hadn't yet decided which one I was going to brew. I noticed a label at the bottom of each one, and squinted to read the ornate cursive handwriting in hopes it would help inform my decision. I started with the canister to the left, the tea inside was black and appeared rather nondescript. “Dark Moon, sounds like something Winifred would come up with!” I said, laughing at my own humour. I moved on to the next canister, the tea inside was shades of purple with delicate dark pink rose petals mixed in, its label read “Violet Storm”. Intriguing! The last canister was filled with a mixture of gold tea leaves, yellow and orange flower petals, and citrus rinds, the label on that one read “Golden Sunset”. I pondered a moment longer, and decided Violet Storm sounded like a good accompaniment to rum raisin cake. I gingerly lifted the canister off the shelf and placed it on the counter. I popped open its lid, and the aroma of lavender, elderberry, hibiscus, and a strange sickly-sweet smell I couldn't pinpoint rose from its contents. I found a scoop in the utensil drawer and placed three spoonfulls into the infuser part of the teapot, then poured the boiling water in and stepped away to let it steep for a few minutes. I walked to the stove and crouched next to Jones, running my hand over the sleek fur of his body. He looked up at me with those amber eyes and blinked that slow blink cats do when they're rather satisfied with their circumstances; a full belly, a warm napping spot, and a human to do their bidding. I finally admitted to myself that I'd grown unusually attached to this kitten over the past couple of days, as though we were kindred spirits from the start.“Tea time!” I said as I stood up. I poured tea from the pot into the teacup Mr. Holcomb had gifted me. I left the teacup on the counter while I brought my plate of cake and the little pot of custard to the table. Then I grabbed the saucer with the teacup precariously balanced on it and held it up to my face, breathing in the steam. The unidentified sweet smell was even more pungent now, and I desperately wondered what it would taste like. I shifted the saucer to my other hand and grabbed the teacup by its delicate handle, slowly lifting it to my mouth. Suddenly, a loud slam came from behind me. Startled beyond belief I jumped and spun on my heel. Before I could wrap my brain around what was happening the teacup flew out of my hand and went crashing to the floor, leaving the echo of a shattering sound ringing through the kitchen. I stared in shock at the purple streak of tea spreading across the black and white tile of the floor.“I told you not to drink the tea!”I gathered my wits about me and looked up. Standing a few paces away was Winifred. She had a small cut on her hand, presumably from when she slapped the teacup out of my grasp. It took me a moment to notice Florence was standing directly next to her. “Oh dear,” breathed Florence, looking at something behind me with sadness in her eyes. I turned and saw Jones voraciously drinking from the puddle of tea on the floor.“Oh Jones, that's not for you!” I said, bending to pull him into my arms.“It's too late,” croaked Winifred. I instantly recognized the voice on the phone that stormy Christmas Eve night in Mr. Holcomb's flat. What in the world was going on?!“I- I wasn't expecting you back so soon,” I stumbled over my words, both nervous and embarrassed. “Winifred felt strongly that we should come home early,” said Florence. “It's probably best that you go home now, Marie,” she added. Her voice was neutral, neither kind nor unkind, neither soft nor stern. I sheepishly bent to clean up the mess of broken porcelain on the floor. “Leave it,” she said. I kept my gaze glued to the floor and withdrew to the living room to tidy up and pack my things.As I made my way into the hall Jones sauntered over and looked up at me with those glorious glowing yellow eyes. I pondered whether I should scoop him up and take him with me, but Winifred came through the doorway to the right and stood between us, her inky eyes piercing into my soul, and slowly shook her head no. I muttered an apology and made a swift exit.I wallowed in self-pity and embarrassment for a few days, then decided to leave the confines of my flat to take a walk. I wandered through the woods where the crows cawed to one another as though saying “Look at that ridiculous girl, a guest in someone's home and doing as she pleases with no regard for them!” I felt disgraced, and disappointed in myself. Making a cup of tea seemed like such a small, innocuous, harmless thing at the time, but clearly it wasn't, clearly there was a valid reason why the sisters had forbidden it... and I should have respected their wishes.I wandered aimlessly, stopping at one point to select a drink at the local café. I stared hopelessly at the menu board, unable to make up my mind, and finally settled on some iced tea, then chuckled bitterly at the irony of my selection. My walk eventually took me to the top of Dimly Court. I looked down the street past the brick row houses and perfectly manicured shrubs, hesitating. Would it be out of place for me to walk by? The sisters were hermits, the odds of one of them seeing me were rather low. I decided to take my chances and turned onto their street. Every window covering at 51 Dimly court was drawn, but I could see Jones' silhouette sitting on the windowsill, the patterned chenille of the drapes hanging behind him like backdrop. I stood in front of the window, admiring the velvety sheen of his coat. “Jones!” I whispered as loudly as I dared. The kitten turned his head and I gasped. I instinctively took a step back and nearly tumbled off walkway. In the place of those glorious golden eyes that I had stared into just days before were two orbs filled with a swirl of thunderous grey clouds. The cat's head suddenly darted back and forth as though watching something behind me. I turned to look but there was nothing there. I stood on the empty street watching him get increasingly agitated. “Oh Jones, what happened to you?” I choked. Suddenly, the curtain was pulled aside and Winifred's pallid face came into view, that eternal streak of red lipstick still across her mouth. Her carbon-coloured eyes locked firmly on me as she pulled the kitten into her arms, then she quickly stepped back into the shadows from whence she came. The curtain closed behind her, a supple but effective barrier between us.I trudged back home in slow, plodding steps, my head hung low. My mind, however, was in overdrive. Jones' eyes were now in the same condition as Mr. Holcomb's... what on earth could have caused it? I let different scenarios play out my head, then stopped dead in my tracks as it hit me: The tea! It had to be the tea! That would explain why the sisters had instructed me not to drink it. Jones had lapped it up after it spilled on the floor, and now he had a storm in his eyes. I let the swirling thoughts keep coming; perhaps Mr. Holcomb had ingested some of the tea as well, and that's how he ended up the way he did. I suddenly remembered the glimpse of him I'd caught the night of the storm when he'd sat rod-straight in his chair, a blindfold strapped across his eyes. My next thought sent a shiver down my spine... What was it he was avoiding looking at that night? What was it, exactly, that Jones and Mr. Holcomb were able to see with those cloudy eyes that I apparently could not? I shuddered as I realised how closely I had come to joining their ranks.I spent the next few days alone, only going out for the odd walk in the woods and to do a bit of shopping at times when I was least likely to encounter other people. Thankfully, I didn't have to return to work until after the holidays. I rang in the new year by myself in my dark living room, doing my best to ignore the cacophony of the festivities outside the walls of my apartment. I simply wasn't in a celebratory mood, and other people's cheer was the last thing I needed.I woke at the crack of dawn the first day of the new year with the unsettling feeling that something was amiss. I heard the sound of a car door outside my window, and got out of bed, tugging my twisted nighty back into place. I slid into my fuzzy slippers, then walked to the living room so I could look out the front windows. My stomach clenched instantly. There, standing immobile on the walkway to my apartment building, a black 1940s style car parked behind them, were the twins. Winifred was dressed all in black with a black strip of fabric draped over her eyes, which made her white powdery makeup and smear of red lipstick stand out even more. In complete contrast, Florence was decked out in a floral dress with a long brown chequered coat draped over her shoulders. The sisters' arms were laced together, presumably so Florence could guide Winifred who surely couldn't see much, if anything, with the blindfold. Florence locked eyes with me, then carefully and deliberately bent down to place a brown leather-bound book onto the pavers of the walkway to my building. She gave me a small nod, then the pair turned and methodically walked back to the old-fashioned car. Florence helped Winifred get in her seat, then walked to the driver's side, and eased herself behind the wheel. I watched, equally confused, and mesmerized, as the pair drove off.Thank you so much for listening, I truly hope you enjoyed this third installment of The Man with a Storm in His Eyes.Be sure to check in next week for the final portion of the story!If you enjoyed this episode, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon. Patreon supporters get early access to ad-free podcast episodes, digital downloads of my music, and so much more. It's the first place I share my creations. However, if you prefer not to subscribe, but would like to make a one-time contribution, you can do so via your podcast platform. Any and all financial support is greatly appreciated.Once again, thank you for listening – I'm Melissa Oliveri, writer, composer, and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast. Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-contentAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

The Man with a Storm in His Eyes – Volume 2NOTE: If you have not listened to Volume 1 of this 4-part miniseries, please pause this episode, and go listen to the first installment, otherwise the story won't make much sense.Over Thanksgiving I spent a few days house- and cat-sitting for a friend. The moment I met Russell the cat I was completely charmed by the milky cloudiness of his eyes. What fascinated me most was that he appeared to be able to see just fine... to the point where sometimes he appeared to be seeing things that I myself couldn't see. I found myself inspired and fully credit Russell with breaking through my writer's block.This story is available in written form in its entirety exclusively to Patreon Supporters, visit the link below to join.Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveriContact: theskylarkbell@gmail.comThe Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.comThe Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbellAuthor/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.comAll music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.comCannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.musicFULL TRANSCRIPT:Things with Wings Productions presents: The Man with a Storm in His Eyes - A Skylark Special Miniseries written exclusively for The Skylark Bell podcast. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  Before I begin, if you haven't listened to the first installment of this story, I strongly suggest you hit pause on this episode and go listen to volume 1 or the story won't make much sense. In last week's episode, we met Marie, who agreed to take on a job house-sitting for twin sisters Florence and Winifred over the holiday weekend and will help care for their elderly tenant, Mr. Holcomb who lives upstairs. When we left Marie, she had just exited Mr. Holcomb's apartment after Christmas Eve dinner went awry as a thunderous storm rolled in. Now, get settled in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let's dive back into the story, shall we?I must have fallen asleep at some point because the next time I glanced at the fire it had been rendered to a pile of glowing embers, and a small stream of sunlight was coming through a crack in the floral chenille fabric of the drapes. I got up, neatly folded, and piled the blankets, and pulled the drapes open to let the full force of the sun shine into the room. A cloud of dust lifted from the drapes and swirled into the air before slowly settling onto the surrounding surfaces. In the bright light of day, the space didn't seem nearly so threatening, and I began to feel ridiculous about overreacting to the phone call the night before. The line was crackly, I probably misheard. In all likelihood it was a wrong number, or a prank call. “Merry Christmas, Marie,” I said out loud to the empty flat as I padded down the hall to the kitchen. I cooked some eggs and toast, poured myself a glass of orange juice, and put the kettle on for tea. I eyed the tea canisters on the shelf above the cookbooks but decided to save that for the evening. I washed up my dishes, changed clothes, brushed my teeth, then decided to go upstairs to check on Mr. Holcomb. I climbed the narrow stairs and was about to knock on the door when it swung open, revealing Mr. Holcomb's silhouette in the hallway. “I told you my hearing was good,” he uttered before I could ask how he knew I was there. “Merry Christmas,” he added without any merriment in his voice. He looked exhausted.I opened my mouth to ask what had happened the night before, but he had already started walking down the hallway on velvet feet. I followed him to the kitchen where two cups of steaming coffee and a plate of biscuits sat waiting on the table. “How did you...” I let the question trail, unable to wrap my brain around his impeccable timing.“My senses are above average, I knew you were coming upstairs before you did,” he replied with a wink. I noticed with wonder that when he winked the clouds in his other eye swirled faster for a moment as though a gust of wind was passing through.We sat at the table in silence. I became self-conscious of the crunching of biscuits in the quiet little kitchen and was about to begin a conversation when Mr. Holcomb beat me to it. “I have a gift for you,” he said out of the blue. I stared at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. I had never seen him leave his flat, how in the world did he manage to find a gift for me? He turned to take a small box off the counter and handed it to me. I freed the box from the blue velvet ribbon wrapped around it and gently lifted its lid. Inside was a fine china teacup with matching saucer, both white but painted with a black floral pattern that bordered on ink blots. There was something very Winifred-esque about them and I briefly wondered if this was a re-gift situation, but it didn't matter to me, I was touched by the thoughtfulness of his gesture.“This is lovely Mr. Holcomb, and so very kind, thank you. I'm afraid I have nothing to offer in return, I didn't realise...”“Not to worry dear, I wasn't expecting anything at all, I simply wanted to show some appreciation for keeping me company at this time of year,” he replied. His stormy eyes took on a darker tone then, almost like the deep, heavy grey of a rain cloud about to unleash its tears on the world. “Well, I shall leave you to your own devices for the rest of the day. Nothing personal, I simply prefer to be alone at Christmas.”I frowned but acquiesced with a polite nod as I rose from my chair. “I insist on bringing you a tray with Christmas dinner though, I'll leave it by your door around 6pm, okay?” I asked. He smiled and gave me a nod, understanding my need to reciprocate the kindness of his gift. “I shall see you tomorrow morning then?” my question was tentative; I still hadn't sorted out what had happened the night before.“Yes, I shall cook us a nice Boxing Day breakfast. Now go on, enjoy your time downstairs, there is much to read, much to discover, much to learn...” he said. Had his eyes been clear, they'd have been staring into my soul then. I looked at him intently, his eyes suddenly seemed lighter, almost white, and feathery, there was a calm to them, and I got a shiver down my spine as I realised he was attempting to convey a message.I took the box containing Mr. Holcomb's gift and made my way back to the sisters' flat. I gently pulled the cup and saucer out of the box and placed them on the counter. It was here that I finally noted the black flowers were painted in a swirling pattern eerily reminiscent of Mr. Holcomb's cloudy eyes.I was intimately familiar with the kitchen and sitting rooms already, so I decided it was time to explore the rest of the flat. I first went down the hall and hesitantly stepped into Winifred's room. I perused the items on her dresser, they were few; an empty perfume bottle, a hairbrush with long strands of dark hair tangled into it, a collection of multicoloured glass bottles and vials that appeared to contain various tinctures and what looked like animal teeth... Curiouser and curiouser! Winifred was definitely the creepy sister. Laying askew atop her nightstand was a copy of Daphne DuMaurier's The House on the Strand. I picked up the book and read the synopsis on the back, it had to do with time travel and such. I placed it back down, making a mental note to get myself a copy, I found the idea of time travel fascinating!I exited Winifred's room and let myself into Florence's living quarters. Her space was much larger and included a sitting area. I ran my hand along the wood of her antique loveseat, then down its striped salmon-coloured satin fabric. I walked to her dresser and noticed the top drawer was slightly open. I peeked in and saw it was filled with handwritten notes and illustrations on various bits of paper. I was about to pull it open further to explore the contents when I heard a commotion outside the window. “What was that?” I asked the empty room. I walked to the window and looked out to see a group of boys running down the street at breakneck speed. My eyes followed them until they were out of sight, then darted back to the sidewalk. Sitting just outside the window, quietly staring up at me with stunning yellow eyes, was a kitten, its velvety grey fur covered in mud. Clearly the boys had been mistreating it. Concerned for the kitten's safety, I rushed down the hallway, grabbing the antique key to the front door off the entryway console as I whizzed by, and flew down the steps to the sidewalk. Thankfully the kitten was still there. From this proximity I could see it had a blue velvet ribbon for a collar, with small silver tag dangling from it. I approached cautiously, not wanting to scare it away, and crouched down while reaching my hand out. The kitten immediately got up and walked toward me, pushing its little head against my palm, its friendliness completely unhindered by the abuse it had just suffered at the hands of the unruly boys. “Hello there small friend,” I cooed, running my hand down the softness of its back. I used my other hand to grab hold of the tag. “Jones,” I read, “is that your name, or your family's name?” The kitten remained silent; its amber eyes transfixed on me as I carefully bent down to scoop it up.I cradled the kitten in my arms as I made my way back into the sisters' flat. It took a few tries opening various cupboards, but I eventually found two shallow bowls. I filled one with water, and placed a few pieces of cooked chicken from the fridge into the other one. “There you go, Jones, Merry Christmas,” I told him as I placed the bowls on the tile floor. He meowed at me, and I told myself he was wishing me a merry Christmas in return. I didn't know then it wasn't going to be a merry Christmas for him at all...I gave Jones a bath as best I could in the large porcelain sink, then settled him on a pillow by the stove to dry. I spent the rest of the day in the cozy kitchen cooking and baking. First, I prepared a hearty vegetable soup with cheddar and chive biscuits, then some lentil fritters using my nan's recipe from memory, and finally a rum raisin cake with homemade custard for dessert. I also made a point to prepare a little Christmas meal for Jones using odds and ends I found in the fridge. I put together a tray for Mr. Holcomb and left it by his door, promptly at 6pm, as promised, then came back downstairs to eat. I found a festive tartan tablecloth and some tapered candles with accompanying pewter candle holders on the bottom shelf of the pantry. “It's just you and me, Jones,” I said to the cat, “might as well make the most of it!” I spooned a bit of custard onto a plate for him. His golden eyes glowed with gratitude as he lapped it up.We finished dinner and I tidied the kitchen, then wandered aimlessly about the flat, eventually landing in the reading room.  I perused the books housed on the multitude of shelves, and finally chose Alice in Wonderland. I plopped myself in the leather chair stationed in front of the massive oak desk in the center of the room and lost myself down the rabbit hole alongside Alice for a couple of hours. Eventually, I tore myself away from the pages to give my eyes a break. I set the book down on the desktop and pushed the chair back slightly to take a look at the drawers. The top drawer had a keyhole, which of course made me desperately want to open it. I scoured the items strewn on top of the desk and eventually found a small key with a black satin ribbon tied in a bow around the top of it. I turned the key in the lock and heard the satisfying click that meant my curiosity would soon be satiated. Alas, behind the barrier of the lock, the drawer contained only an assortment of pens and blank notepads.I moved onto the top right drawer and found a collection of folders detailing much of the history of the building including the original owners and a collection of past tenants. Fascinating! I had done so much reading already though, I decided to save this for the following day. I shifted to the left and pulled that top drawer open. At first, I thought it was empty, but just as I was about to close it, I noticed there was a black folder laying on the very bottom, almost imperceptible. The folder was wedged so tightly into the bottom of the drawer I had to use my thumbnail to pry it free. I didn't immediately realise it, but the mystery I was about to discover would call into question everything I thought I knew about Mr. Holcomb and the twins.I lifted the folder out of the drawer and a series of newspaper clippings fell out onto the desk. I turned on the antique desk lamp, picked up one of the clippings, and held it under the light to get a better look. “Young Salesman From Edgewick Goes Missing” read the headline. Despite my tired eyes I dove in, completely enthralled by the mystery. It wasn't long before my breath caught in my throat. The article went on to explain that a young man had gone missing after leaving for work the Tuesday morning prior. He was last seen dressed in a charcoal-coloured wool suit and carrying a brown satchel. His name? Russell James Holcomb. I let the piece of paper fall from my hand to the surface of the hardwood desktop. I stared at the portrait of the young man; with a little imagination it wasn't hard to see the resemblance with the old cloud-eyed man living upstairs. My brow knit as I tried to come to terms with this discovery. Mr. Holcomb had gone missing as a young man, was anyone aware of his whereabouts now? I sifted through the other newspaper clippings in search of answers. Most of them were from the same era as the first one, days to weeks after Mr. Holcomb first disappeared, but one of them stood out. It was written nearly a decade later and was part of a collection of stories about people who had mysteriously vanished without a trace, never to be seen or heard from again. I had half a mind to march upstairs and ask Mr. Holcomb what this was all about, but it dawned on me then that perhaps he didn't want to be found, perhaps he had good reason for never speaking up about his whereabouts. From the news articles it didn't sound like he was the type to have done anything nefarious. I was desperately curious about his story but knew better than to go charging in asking questions. The grandfather clock in the corner struck twice, it was 2am already, and I had promised Mr. Holcomb I would join him for breakfast in a few hours. I wandered back into the living room and settled on the sofa with my trusty pile of blankets. Jones hopped onto the couch as well and curled up on top of my feet. I fell asleep to the steady rumble of his purring as the fire in the fireplace slowly waned to embers.Thank you so much for listening, I truly hope you enjoyed this second installment of The Man with a Storm in His Eyes.Be sure to check in next week for the next part of the story!If you enjoyed this episode, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon. Patreon supporters get early access to ad-free podcast episodes, digital downloads of my music, and so much more. It's the first place I share my creations. However, if you prefer not to subscribe, but would like to make a one-time contribution, you can do so via your podcast platform. Any and all financial support is greatly appreciated.Once again, thank you for listening – I'm Melissa Oliveri, writer, composer, and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast.  Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-contentAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

The Man with a Storm in His Eyes – Volume 1Happy holidays dear listeners. I know it's been some time since I released a new episode of The Skylark Bell, but I believe you'll feel it was worth the wait as you listen to what I have in store for you over the next few weeks. Over Thanksgiving I spent a few days house- and cat-sitting for a friend. The moment I met Russell the cat I was completely charmed by the milky cloudiness of his eyes. What fascinated me most was that he appeared to be able to see just fine... to the point where sometimes he appeared to be seeing things that I myself couldn't see. I found myself inspired and fully credit Russell with breaking through my writer's block. And so begins the first of 4 installments of what was supposed to be a short story, but ended up being much longer, and far more meaningful than I could ever have imagined.NOTE - This story is available in written form in its entirety exclusively to Patreon Supporters, visit the link below to join.Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.comThe Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.comThe Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbellAuthor/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.comJoin Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveriAll music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.comCannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.musicFULL TRANSCRIPTThings with Wings Productions presents: The Man with a Storm in His Eyes - A Skylark Special Miniseries written exclusively for The Skylark Bell podcast. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  Happy holidays dear listeners. I know it's been some time since I released a new episode of The Skylark Bell, but I believe you'll feel it was worth the wait as you listen to what I have in store for you over the next few weeks. Over Thanksgiving I spent a few days house- and cat-sitting for a friend. The moment I met Russell the cat I was completely charmed by the milky cloudiness of his eyes. What fascinated me most was that he appeared to be able to see just fine... to the point where sometimes he appeared to be seeing things that I myself couldn't see. I found myself inspired and fully credit Russell with breaking through my writer's block. And so begins the first of 4 installments of what was supposed to be a short story, but ended up being much longer, and far more meaningful than I could ever have imagined.So, dear friends, it is my pleasure to suggest that you get settled in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… because we're getting started.I was standing on the brink of the holiday season with nothing but my own company to look forward to. Off work, no family or friends to visit, not enough money to whisk myself away from my mundane life... things were looking rather bleak. Then I saw the advertisement in my town newspaper: “In search of responsible adult to assist elderly man Dec 22nd-27th”. I stared at the phone number on the listing, and let the scenario run through my head: Christmas with a stranger... what could go wrong?! I laughed out loud, then dialed the number. I had nothing to lose... or so I thought.A pleasant woman answered the phone with a jovial, “This is Florence!” “Hello Florence, my name is Marie. I saw your advertisement in the paper looking for someone to help with an elderly man over the holidays...” My voice sounded insecure; I wasn't entirely sure I'd dialed the right number.“Ah, yes...” Florence's voice took on a more somber tone. “Our upstairs tenant is quite elderly, my sister and I check in on him daily to help with tidying up and cooking, but we're going out of town for the holidays and don't feel comfortable leaving him alone.”“I see...” I replied, curious about the dynamics of the two sisters and the old man living upstairs. “Are you looking for someone to visit a couple of times a day or...”Florence cut in, “Well, ideally, we'd love to find someone to stay overnight in our flat to keep an eye on things and assist our tenant when necessary. Unfortunately, we can't offer much in the way of financial compensation, but you could help yourself to anything in the fridge or pantry, both are well-stocked, and we have plenty of books and movies to entertain you.” She paused then, leaving the static air between us hanging for a moment before tentatively carrying on. “If that sounds agreeable, perhaps we could meet tomorrow for introductions?”I thought it was strange she didn't ask me for any references and that she was so quickly and easily willing to hand over access to both her home and the well-being of an elderly man to a complete stranger. Lucky for her, I was a kind, honest, trustworthy person. We agreed to meet at her flat for lunch the next day, the address was less than a mile from my apartment, very convenient if I needed to zip home for anything.I easily found the 2-storey row house at the end of a cul-de-sac after following a long stretch of nearly identical brown brick buildings down a hill. My mother had always insisted I should never go to anyone's home without bringing a token of appreciation, so I shifted the bag of pastries I had brought into my left hand and used my free hand to tap the door knocker against the heavy wooden door. I heard the sound reverberate on the other side, followed by a quick succession of echoing footsteps. A moment later I was standing in a long dim hallway with a petite woman who appeared to be in her 70s. Her appearance was quite striking; dressed all in black with chalky white makeup on her face and garish red lipstick swiped across her mouth like a child's crayon mark on a blank page.“Hello, you must be Florence?” I asked, noting that she hadn't said a word of welcome to me after opening the door. Her irises and pupils were almost the same colour, making her eyes, which were fixated on me, look like two dark, bottomless pools. This, coupled with her completely static facial expression began to make me squirm. I shifted nervously from one foot to the other waiting for her to say something.“This is my sister Winifred, she doesn't speak much,” came a voice from the room to my left. My gaze quickly shifted to the doorway where a woman, identical to the one standing next to me, but with a much warmer countenance and more relaxed clothing style, was standing in the doorframe wiping flour from her hands onto a maroon apron. “I am Florence,” she added with a warm smile that put me only slightly more at ease. “I'm Marie, it's lovely to meet you both... Oh, these are for you,” I said, awkwardly handing the bag of pastries to Winifred. The entire situation, identical twins, one apparently mute and very inept at applying makeup, an elderly man upstairs... it was all quite bizarre, and I began to question why I ever thought this would be a good idea. Winifred sniffled in acknowledgment then shuffled away, disappearing into the shadows of the endless hallway.“Why don't we begin by going upstairs to meet Mr. Holcomb,” suggested Florence, gently but purposefully laying a guiding hand on my shoulder and turning me toward a doorway to our left. We walked down a short hallway to a narrow set of wooden stairs leading up to an even narrower door with a brass number 7 hanging on it slightly askew. Florence marched up the stairs ahead of me, the ribbon of her apron bouncing back and forth as she made her way up. I followed closely, preferring the creepy narrow stairs to the company of her creepy sister Winifred.“Mr. Holcomb? It's Florence, I've got the caregiver here with me,” shouted Florence through the door. Caregiver? I was surprised to hear her coin the term as I had never insinuated I had any kind of caregiving experience. We waited a moment, Florence on the tiny landing and me a couple of stairs below her. Slow, shuffling footsteps grew louder on the other side of the door and the sound of the bolt slipping out of its casing echoed down the stairs behind me. The door creaked loudly as it was pulled open, and Florence walked through. I came up the last few steps and stepped into the flat. The man was already several steps ahead, his back to me as he walked toward the back of the apartment. Florence and I followed him, she more at ease than I by a long shot. The hallway was lined with mirrors streaked with gold, like something straight out of the 1960s. I peered into the adjacent rooms, and each one also appeared frozen in a similar era. We finally arrived at a small kitchen, bright sunlight pouring in through the small window above the sink. It was only then that I realised every other room I had seen had the curtains drawn and was bathed in darkness. The man finally turned to face me, and the sharp intake of my breath caused Florence to put a hand on my arm.“Mr. Holcomb can see much more clearly than his appearance would suggest,” she leaned in to whisper in my ear.“My hearing is quite stellar as well,” said the man, with no hint of banter in his voice. I stood transfixed. The man's eyes were unlike anything I'd ever seen before. When I was young our family dog's eyes had become milky as it grew older, but this was something entirely different. The clouds in his eyes weren't static but rolling, like an impending storm, a mixture of white, grey, and charcoal. I shook my head and cleared my throat. “It's lovely to meet you Mr. Holcomb, my name is Marie. It sounds like we're going to be spending the holidays together!” The words were strung together as though someone else was speaking them, the voice coming out of my throat unrecognizable to me. I couldn't believe I was listening to myself agree to stay in a strange building owned by strange sisters to look after a strange man. It felt like I had no control over my body or my mind in that moment.Somehow or other, arrangements were made. It was like an out of body experience, and before I knew it December 22ndarrived and I found myself standing in front of 51 Dimly Court with an antique key in my hand that had been slipped into my postbox by Florence the day before along with instructions on how to ensure the furnace was running, how to use the antique stove, and how to reach her in case of emergency. Scribbled in a shaky hand at the bottom of the note, as though added in haste, were words that left me perplexed: “Do not drink the tea in the canisters above the cookbooks.” It must have been a collection of very rare, expensive teas for it to be their only rule! I decided then and there I would have a cup before my stay was over.I let myself into the flat and slowly made the rounds, exploring every room. Each one was filled top to bottom with knick-knacks and antique furniture. Cluttered didn't even begin to describe it. I could tell which space belonged to which sister. The tell-tale sign in Winifred's room was the dusty black swath of lacey fabric draped across the top of her four-poster bed. Florence's room on the other hand featured a vintage floral bedspread with matching curtains. I had already decided to simply sleep on the couch, a luxury I could afford at my age without having to concern myself with stiff joints or a sore back. I found the bathroom and kitchen, and immediately thought of the tea. My eyes scanned the space, and I saw a shelf lined with cookbooks on the far wall. Above it was another smaller shelf with a set of 3 glass cannisters each filled with loose-leaf teas: One gold, one black, and one purple. Bingo! I reached up to grab the gold canister, but just as my fingers closed around it, I was startled by a crash above my head. My heart raced as I scurried down the hall, through the doorway, and up the narrow stairs to Mr. Holcomb's flat. I knocked on the door and shouted “Mr. Holcomb? It's Marie, is everything alright?” I stood nervously listening to the wave of silence behind the door, and almost fell backwards down the stairs when it suddenly creaked open. Mr. Holcomb's silhouette blocked what little light was emanating from the kitchen at the end of the hall. “I- I heard a loud crash, is everything okay?” I asked in a shaky voice.Mr. Holcomb nodded and motioned for me to come in. “Yes, I do apologise, I'm afraid I sent a houseplant crashing to the floor. Sometimes the greenery and I have disagreements,” said the old man. “Would you like a cup of tea?”I couldn't tell if he was joking about arguing with houseplants, his face seemed to remain expressionless much of the time, but I was surprised by his offer to make me some tea, and by the warmth of his tone, as he hadn't been all that friendly when I'd first met him. I nodded and followed him to the kitchen where he set about preparing tea and a plate of biscuits. “If I may ask, Mr. Holcomb, what sorts of tasks does Florence help you with? She wasn't very specific if I'm being honest...” He was sitting across the table from me, and I was finding it rather difficult to focus with those rolling storm cloud eyes of his, but decided to simply look at his forehead instead and hoped he wouldn't notice.“The truth is Miss, I don't need help with anything at all, but I know it pleases Florence to visit, makes her feel useful. Did she mention she was a nurse during the war? She and her sister both, but that was before we met...” he said. We carried on chatting, and I found myself surprised at how easy it was to converse with him. By the time we were done I hardly even noticed his unusual eyes and was happy I had taken on the job after all. Little did I know...The next couple of days were uneventful. I spent much of my time reading, napping, and visiting with Mr. Holcomb. He insisted on making us Christmas Eve dinner and handed me a shopping list of ingredients in preparation. Not wanting to arrive empty-handed, I also grabbed ingredients to make dessert. I spent most of Christmas Eve sorting out the antique oven, and somehow managed to bake up a decent batch of shortbread. It was my Nan's recipe and I had made it so often I had it memorised. We sat down to a traditional holiday meal and chatted back and forth. I was hoping Mr. Holcomb would touch on how his cloud eyes came to be, but he never broached the subject, and I didn't dare inquire about it. He mentioned being sent to war, but strayed from providing any details of his experience, instead speaking of the bravery and brilliance of Florence and Winifred who saved countless lives with very little means as nurses in the war zone. He talked about his childhood Christmases in the poverty-stricken area of the city, and how his mother once saved all the money she could to buy him and his brother each an orange and a mincemeat pie the Christmas after their father had passed away. His stories were like relics of a time gone by, and I soaked them in like a sponge, leaning in to gaze upon every crevice on his weathered face, and eventually getting lost in the swirling mist of his eyes.The conversation flowed naturally, easily, and I found myself rather enjoying Mr. Holcomb's company, but as the night wore on, I noticed he began to shift in his seat and appeared to grow increasingly uncomfortable. Before I knew it the antique clock in the next room was chiming midnight. Almost simultaneously, a roll of thunder rattled the windows of the tiny kitchen.“Oh, dear...” Mr. Holcomb turned toward the window. “It's best that you go,” he said, turning back toward me. There was an expression on his face that I couldn't read, and the clouds in his eyes began to roll, not unlike the low-lying swirl of an incoming fog, except they were the colour of slate. “Yes, it is late. Time flies!” I said a little too loudly, suddenly uncomfortable myself. I began to gather up the dishes as a distraction.“Never mind that, you need to go,” commanded Mr. Holcomb again, this time with a sharper tone. He abruptly rose from his chair and disappeared down the hall.I quickly placed the dishes on the counter and scrambled after him, but he had already vanished. I tentatively peered into the first room off the hallway. “Mr. Holcomb?” I spoke into the darkness of the room. My eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light, and I saw the room was empty. I could make out a set of built-in bookshelves and large oak desk with a worn brown satchel sat atop it. I took a few steps into the room and noticed a collection of picture frames on the wall, and a certificate awarded to Russell J. Holcomb, but I couldn't see what it was for. Through the doorway at the opposite end of the office I saw Mr. Holcomb in the room across the hall. He was seated in a brown leather wing-back chair, the kind with brass studs around the edges. The sight of him made my breath catch in my throat; he was wearing a blindfold and sitting rod-straight and perfectly still, his lips pressed tightly together in concentration. I opened my mouth to ask if he was alright but was cut off by a monstrous clap of thunder and subsequent flickering of the apartment lights. I stood in the hallway, transfixed, like my feet were glued to the floor. Out of nowhere I heard the front door to Mr. Holcomb's flat creak open of its own accord. That did it, I felt my fear take over the mechanics of my body, and quickly scurried toward it.Just as I was about to exit, the phone on the narrow table by the door began to ring. I stopped to stare at it, unsure what to do. I looked down the hall, but didn't dare approach Mr. Holcomb, blindfolded and unresponsive in his chair. I tentatively reached down to grab the receiver, it was an old-style phone with a curvy silhouette and a turn-dial. I put the phone to my ear and heard a voice come through the static on the other end. It sounded like Florence, but with a deadpan, monotonous tone. “Go back... ...stairs... ...and... ...door.” “Errrmm... I'm having trouble hearing you, would you mind repeating?” I hoped my voice carried through the receiver, but I was shaking so much it wasn't quite lined up with my mouth anymore.“Go downstairs... lock... door... ...should've warned y-” Out of the corner of my eye I saw the shadow of a hand slam down onto the top of the phone, effectively disconnecting the call. I didn't wait to see who or what it was, turned on my heels and raced down the narrow stairs to the sisters' flat, closing and locking the door in one swift move. I leaned my back against the door to catch my breath, and only then did it dawn on me whose voice it was on the other end of the line... It had sounded like Florence, but darker... it had to be Winifred! But... what was she going on about? I eventually gathered my wits about me and made my way to the sofa. I made a fire in the fireplace, letting its warmth, light, and gentle crackling sounds calm my nerves. I piled a few blankets on top of me and lay staring at the ceiling, wondering what on earth was going on in the flat upstairs. Winifred's voice echoed in my head as I drifted off to sleep: “Should've warned you...”Thank you so much for listening, I truly hope you enjoyed the first installment of The Man with a Storm in His Eyes.Be sure to check in next week for the next part of the story!If you enjoyed this episode, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon. Patreon supporters get early access to ad-free podcast episodes, digital downloads of my music, and so much more. It's the first place I share my creations. However, if you prefer not to subscribe, but would like to make a one-time contribution, you can do so via your podcast platform. Any and all financial support is greatly appreciated.Once again, thank you for listening – I'm Melissa Oliveri, writer, composer, and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast.  Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-contentAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Chuck Edwards - "Downtown Soulville" [0:00:00] Music behind DJ: Preston Love - "Omaha Mash" [0:06:48] The Sting Rays - "I'm Gonna Suprise You" [0:06:49] Lionel Torrence - "Moscow Twist" [0:09:05] Tommy Love - "Ninety Days In August" [0:09:42] Timmy Shaw - "No More" [0:12:06] Music behind DJ: Big Sam Mason & the House Rockers - "Bright Day" [0:14:03] Carolyn Crawford - "Devil in His Eyes" [0:17:39] Carolyn Crawford - "When Someone Is Good to You" [0:18:37] Carolyn Crawford - "My Smile Is Just a Frown (Turned Upside Down)" [0:21:15] Music behind DJ: The Theo-Coff Invasion - "Lucky Day" [0:23:39] The Zircons - "Was It Meant to Be This Way" [0:25:05] Emanuel Laskey - "(I've Got to) Run for My Life" [0:28:59] Dee Dee Barnes - "Do What You Wanna Do" [0:31:21] The Stratoliners - "What Do You Want With My Love" [0:33:33] Mamie Galore - "No Right to Cry" [0:35:37] Music behind DJ: Lebaron Taylor's Orchestra - "All Your Goodies Are Gone" [0:38:14] Sheppard Brothers - "Night Flight" [0:41:46] Billy John & the Continentals - "Slap It to Me" [0:44:02] The Original Cousins - "Sock-It" [0:46:00] Cook E. Jarr and the Krums - "Rose" [0:48:10] Music behind DJ: The Tears - "1808 East Broad" [0:50:18] Lindell Hill - "Used to Be Love" [0:51:55] Vernon Garrett - "I Had a Dream" [0:54:59] Music behind DJ: Major & the Lieutenants - "Communicating" [0:57:40] https://www.wfmu.org/playlists/shows/131913

The post Acts 8v26-40 His Eyes are on the Searching Heart appeared first on Calvary Chapel Crossover.

This week we're joined by Mother Iliana who has released a new book, The Light of His Eyes. We talk about how the book came to be, some concepts from the book, and ways Mother Iliana  has seen the Lord working in her life.References:The Light of His Eyes by Mother IlianaTaare Zameen Par (Every Child is Special movie)The Soul of Shame by Dr. Curt ThompsonFollow and Contact Us!Follow us on Instagram and FacebookWe're on YouTube!Join our Goodreads GroupFr. Michael's TwitterChrist the Bridegroom MonasteryOur WebsiteOur NonprofitSupport the show

What happens when we are NOT delivered from evil and we have some righteous suffering to do?  Well, 1 Peter answers that and says: you get Psalm 34you get His EYES upon youyou get His EARS open to your prayeryou get His FACE against the bad guysoccasionally you get deliverance OUT OF all your troubles but usuallyyou get His NEARNESS to you being brokenhearted andyou get His SAVING you when crushed in spiritSo, when you suffer, I hope you get PSALM 34.  I hope you get His NEARNESS. bewithme.us Spotify, Facebook, YouTube, follow on instagram @mjsm1th or https://instagram.com/mjsm1th?igshid=MjEwN2IyYWYwYw==

Today's Topics: 1) Gospel - Jn 17:20-26 - Lifting up His Eyes to heaven, Jesus prayed saying: "I pray not only for these, but also for those who will believe in Me through their word, so that they may all be one, as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, that the world may believe that You sent Me. And I have given them the glory You gave Me, so that they may be one, as We are One, I in them and You in Me, that they may be brought to perfection as one, that the world may know that You sent Me, and that You loved them even as You loved Me. Father, they are Your gift to Me. I wish that where I am they also may be with Me, that they may see My glory that You gave Me, because You loved Me before the foundation of the world. Righteous Father, the world also does not know You, but I know You, and they know that You sent Me. I made known to them Your Name and I will make it known, that the love with which You loved Me may be in them and I in them." Memorial of Saint Bede the Venerable, Priest and Doctor of the Church Memorial of Saint Gregory VII, Pope, Religious Memorial of Saint Mary Magdalene de' Pazzi, Virgin Saints Bede, Gregory, and Mary, pray for us! Bishop Sheen quote of the day 2) The Deposit of Faith: What it is and why Catholics must know about it https://www.lifesitenews.com/analysis/the-deposit-of-faith-what-it-is-and-why-catholics-should-know-about-it/ 3) Doug Barry joins Terry to discuss his group, the Be Ready Coalition 4) Why Deposit of Faith cannot change or "evolve" https://www.lifesitenews.com/analysis/why-the-churchs-deposit-of-faith-cannot-change-or-evolve/

Today's Topics: 1) Gospel - Jn 17:11b-19 - Lifting up His Eyes to heaven, Jesus prayed, saying: “Holy Father, keep them in Your Name that You have given Me, so that they may be one just as We are One. When I was with them I protected them in Your Name that You gave Me, and I guarded them, and none of them was lost except the son of destruction, in order that the Scripture might be fulfilled. But now I am coming to You. I speak this in the world so that they may share My joy completely. I gave them Your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. I do not ask that You take them out of the world but that You keep them from the Evil One. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in the truth. Your word is truth. As you sent Me into the world, so I sent them into the world. And I consecrate Myself for them, so that they also may be consecrated in truth.” Bishop Sheen quote of the day 2, 3) Joshua Charles on his book: War of the Antichrist. Today's freemasonry influence is certainly a worthwhile discussion 4) Update with Church Militant on news as it relates to the Church & Culture

Today's Topics: 1) Gospel - Jn 17:1-11a - Jesus raised His Eyes to heaven and said, "Father, the hour has come. Give glory to Your Son, so that Your Son may glorify You, just as You gave Him authority over all people, so that Your Son may give eternal life to all You gave Him. Now this is eternal life, that they should know You, the only true God, and the One Whom You sent, Jesus Christ. I glorified You on earth by accomplishing the work that You gave me to do. Now glorify Me, Father, with You, with the glory that I had with You before the world began. "I revealed Your Name to those whom You gave Me out of the world. They belonged to You, and You gave them to Me, and they have kept Your word. Now they know that everything You gave Me is from You, because the words You gave to Me I have given to them, and they accepted them and truly understood that I came from You, and they have believed that You sent me. I pray for them. I do not pray for the world but for the ones You have given Me, because they are Yours, and everything of Mine is Yours and everything of Yours is Mine, and I have been glorified in them. And now I will no longer be in the world, but they are in the world, while I am coming to you." Bishop Sheen quote of the day 2, 3) 10 Reasons Why Homosexual “Marriage” is Harmful and Must be Opposed https://www.tfp.org/10-reasons-why-homosexual-marriage-is-harmful-and-must-be-opposed/ 4) Why I am participating in the "Hope Is Fuel" conference

Singer/songwriter Steven Curtis Chapman joins the Tim DeMoss Show today!  Chapman is the most awarded artist in Christian music history, winning 59 GMA Dove Awards, five Grammy Awards, an American Music Award. Among his 49 #1 singles: tender songs like His Eyes, I Will Be Here and Cinderella; lively, fun songs like The Great Adventure, No Better Place, Dive, Let Us Pray and All About Love, plus many more such as More To This Life, Not Home Yet, Signs of Life and Fingerprints of God. We discuss Chapman's brand new album “Still” and feature several songs from it including the title track. We also cover a lot of other SCC musical ground and hear his thoughts on the Lord and what He has been doing in he and his family's lives. On a personal note, Chapman's 2009 album "Beauty Will Rise"--birthed out of the loss of his adopted five-year old daughter in a tragic accident--has been an ongoing source of encouragement and hope in my (Tim's) life while seeking to persevere through various challenges including the health of our children. I highly recommend it as a way to be encouraged and do the same for friends and family who may be struggling with pain or loss, with God Himself as ultimate source of help and hope. You can find out more about SCC's new album, music, touring and the rest at www.stevencurtischapman.com :). Thank you for listening & Happy Thanksgiving!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Broken-down buses, long lines, fractious tourists, strikes—and countless encounters with God's immense providence. These are just some of the memorable experiences recounted by Irish tour guide Kieran Troy in his new book, “In the Stars the Glory of His Eyes,” which takes the reader to some of the most evocative Catholic pilgrimage sites: Vatican City, the Holy House of Nazareth in Loreto, the shrine of Padre Pio in San Giovanni Rotondo, the Abbey of Montecassino, and many more. In this episode, Troy speaks with Ignatius Press editor Thomas Jacobi about the book, and about the inspiring, exhausting, and often comical experiences he's had over decades of leading groups of pilgrims to many of Christendom's most beloved places. With wit and charm, Troy gives a first-hand account of Christ at work in all the beautiful messiness of pilgrimage. Find the book, “In the Stars the Glory of His Eyes: Tales of an Irish Tour Guide in Rome,” here: https://bit.ly/3E8aWG5

Catherine Bush CBE (born 30 July 1958) is an English singer, songwriter, pianist, dancer, and record producer. In 1978, at the age of 19, she topped the UK Singles Chart for four weeks with her debut single "Wuthering Heights", becoming the first female artist to achieve a UK number one with a self-written song. Bush has since released 25 UK Top 40 singles, including the Top 10 hits "The Man with the Child in His Eyes", "Babooshka", "Running Up That Hill", "Don't Give Up" (a duet with Peter Gabriel) and "King of the Mountain". All ten of her studio albums reached the UK Top 10, including the UK number one albums Never for Ever (1980), Hounds of Love (1985) and the compilation The Whole Story (1986). She was the first British solo female artist to top the UK album charts and the first female artist to enter the album chart at number one.Bush began writing songs at 11. She was signed to EMI Records after the Pink Floyd guitarist David Gilmour helped produce a demo tape. Her debut album, The Kick Inside, was released in 1978. Bush slowly gained artistic independence in album production and has produced all her studio albums since The Dreaming (1982). She took a hiatus between her seventh and eighth albums, The Red Shoes (1993) and Aerial (2005). Bush drew attention again in 2014 with her concert residency Before the Dawn, her first shows since 1979's The Tour of Life. In 2022 her 1985 song "Running Up That Hill" received renewed global attention after being featured in the fourth season of the Netflix series Stranger Things, which led to the single becoming her second UK number one and reaching the top of several other charts. The song also reached number 4 on the US Billboard Hot 100, Bush's first release to reach the top 10 of a US singles chart; its parent album, Hounds of Love, became Bush's first album to reach the top of a Billboard albums chart.Bush's eclectic musical style, unconventional lyrics, performances, and literary themes have influenced a diverse range of artists. She has been nominated for 13 Brit Awards, winning for Best British Female Artist in 1987, and has been nominated for three Grammy Awards. In 2002, Bush was recognised with an Ivor Novello Award for Outstanding Contribution to British Music. She was appointed a CBE in the 2013 New Year Honours for services to music. She also became a Fellow of The Ivors Academy in the UK in 2020. The same year, Rolling Stone ranked Hounds of Love at number 68 on its list of their 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. In 2021, "Running Up That Hill" was also listed at number 60 in Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. Bush has been nominated three times for induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: 2018, 2021 and 2022.

Heathcliff! It's us, it's Strong Songs, we've come home!In March of 2021, the time was right for a deep dive into the music of the great Kate Bush, and what better song to analyze than her breakthrough 1978 hit, "Wuthering Heights." (And in July of 2022, with Bush's fame at new heights thanks to Netflix's Stranger Things, the time is perhaps even more right.) This song has it all - odd phrasing, shifting key centers, soaring vocals, character narration, an epic guitar solo, a red dress, and a celesta.Written by: Kate BushAlbum: The Kick Inside (1978)Listen/Buy: Apple Music | Amazon | SpotifyALSO FEATURED/DISCUSSED:“James and the Cold Gun” and “The Man with the Child in His Eyes” by Kate Bush from The Kick Inside, 1978“Sat In Your Lap” and “The Dreaming” by Kate Bush from The Dreaming, 1982“Running Up That Hill” by Kate Bush from Hounds of Love, 1985Richard Buskin's 2004 Sound on Sound article about the writing and recording of "Wuthering Heights" - https://www.soundonsound.com/techniques/classic-tracks-kate-bush-wuthering-heightsThe 1886 remake/remix of "Wuthering Heights"Kate Bush's iconic Red Dress music video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BW3gKKiTvjsNoel Fielding's incredible live reenactment of the Red Dress video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=du4uH1fC9B8A demonstration of the bell tree: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhStPnEcXrk“The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky from The Nutcracker Suite, 1892 performed by the Vienna Philharmonic, 1999“Starman” by David Bowie from The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, 1972“Mr. Blue Sky” by Electric Light Orchestra from Out of the Blue, 1977OUTRO SOLOIST: Charles McNealCharles McNeal is a killin' Oakland-based sax player who plays all over the bay area. He's also a master jazz transcriber, and has chronicled tons of great solos. You can find him playing out in a variety of bands and settings; the best way to keep up with his music is to subscribe to his YouTube channel or follow him on Instagram @charlesonsax2 - https://www.instagram.com/charlesonsax2-----LINKS-----SUPPORT STRONG SONGSPaypalme/kirkhamiltonmusic | Patreon.com/strongsongsMERCH STOREstore.strongsongspodcast.comSOCIAL MEDIA@StrongSongs | @Kirkhamilton | IG: @Kirk_HamiltonNEWSLETTERhttps://kirkhamilton.substack.com/subscribeJOIN THE DISCORDhttps://discord.gg/GCvKqAM8SmTHE STRONG SONGS PLAYLISTSpotify | Apple Music | YouTube MusicThe Hollow Knight music video Kirk mentioned at the end of this episode: https://youtu.be/eIVtGlcpZS0

As has been observed more than once, Christ's healings are rarely performed in a same way. Their many differing details are doubtless to teach us many lessons. One of the most important is, that the ways and experiences of conversion are also many and varied. What is to be noticed above all is the fruit of a forgiven soul- -1- Christ Sets Him Apart-2- Christ Spits on His Eyes-3- Christ Sends Him Home

Author : R.S.A. Garcia Narrator : Omega Francis Host : Matt Dovey Audio Producer : Peter Adrian Behravesh Discuss on Forums Previously published by Devil’s Ways anthology Content warning for domestic violence Rated R Fire In His Eyes, Blood On His Teeth By R.S.A. Garcia   He comes to me with fire in his eyes […] The post PodCastle 732: Fire in His Eyes, Blood on His Teeth appeared first on PodCastle.

In today's chapter, the girls are doing another Convince Me to Read where they pitch each other books! Also, Madeline talks about her interaction with law enforcement... Books Discussed: A Good Girls Guide to Murder by Holly Jackson Reminders of Him by Colleen Hoover Ghost in His Eyes by Carrie Aarons ACOTAR (A Court of Thorns and Roses) by Sarah J. Maas Bridgerton Series by Julia Quinn Heartstopper Series by Alice Oseman

l disco que vamos a escuchar hoy es ‘The Kick Inside’, algo así como ‘La patada interior’. El álbum alcanzó el puesto número 3 en la lista de álbumes del Reino Unido y ha sido certificado Platino por la Industria Fonográfica Británica (BPI). El disco lo grabó cuando sólo tenía 19 años de edad, saliendo al siguiente año. Kate Bush fue descubierta nada menos que por el ex-Pink Floyd Dave Gilmour cuando ésta contaba con 16 años de edad. Una de las características que más le definen es su gran voz, pudiendo alcanzar nada menos que un rango de 4 octavas. * Una infancia muy musical Catherine Bush nació el 30 de julio de 1958 en el condado de Kent, Inglaterra. Su padre era un médico inglés de nombre Robert Bush, y su madre una irlandesa llamada County Waterford, ambos ya fallecidos. Estudió en una escuela católica, junto a sus hermanos mayores John y Paddy. Kate también gozó de un gran ambiente musical en casa: su madre era una reconocida bailarina de baile tradicional irlandés y su padre era también un aventajado pianista, su hermano Paddy trabajaba como constructor de instrumentos musicales y su otro hermano John era poeta y fotógrafo, además de que ambos hermanos estaban muy involucrados en la escena folk de la zona. Por lo tanto, no fue difícil que Kate se sintiese atraída por el piano, el órgano y el violín con sólo 11 años de edad. Pronto empezó a componer y poner letras a sus canciones. Fue mientras estudiaba en la escuela, cuando sus padres recogieron una demo con 50 temas creados por la joven para mostrar su trabajo a las discográficas. * Su relación con Dave Gilmour, de Pink Floyd La vida da muchas vueltas y fue la casualidad que un amigo de la familia, un tal Ricky Hopper lo fuese también del entonces componente de Pink Floyd, David Gilmour que quedó impresionado tras la escucha y pensó que la demo no tenía suficiente calidad para ser mostrada a las compañías fonográficas del momento. Así que decidió ayudarla para hacer una nueva demo. Gilmour pagó de su propio bolsillo la grabación de 3 nuevos temas que fueron producidos a su vez, por otro amigo de Gilmour, el músico Andrew Powell, músico y arreglista que participaría en casi todos los discos de Alan Parsons. Andrew decidió ser el productor de los dos primeros larga duración de Kate. 'The Kick Inside' y 'Lionheart' ambos aparecidos en 1978. También trabajó en estos discos, como ingeniero de sonido Geoffrey Emerick, que ya había estado con The Beatles en discos como 'Revolver', 'Sgt. Peppers' o 'Abbey Road', entre otros. Al final, esa demo con tres canciones cayó en manos de Terry Staler, un ejecutivo de EMI que quedó gratamente impresionado con la labor de la joven. En un acto realmente impensable en la industria discográfica actual, Bob Mercer, un director ejecutivo de EMI, pensó que a pesar que Kate contaba con muy buen trabajo, un éxito a edad tan temprana podía ser poco beneficioso, y un fracaso realmente dañino. Así que pensó que era mejor que la chica se dedicase a sus estudios, y a pesar de estar en nómina de la discográfica, se lo tomaron con calma, dando tiempo a que Kate madurase como artista y personalmente, fuese el resultado que fuese. La percepción de Kate, como contaba hace pocos años era algo distinta, tal vez Radcliffe la contrató para que no pudiese ir a la competencia. De todas formas, con el generoso avance de honorarios de una persona que, recordemos, todavía no había grabado nada en absoluto, la joven aprovechó para acabar sus estudios con una nota más que notable y tomar clases de interpretación con el actor Lindsay Kemp, que también trabajó con David Bowie en sus inicios. También tomaría clases de mímica con Adam Darius. A pesar de todo, Kate siguió escribiendo canciones, algunas de las cuales se pueden encontrar hoy en un disco pirata conocido como ‘Phoenix Recordings’, llegándose a contar alrededor de 200 composiciones. * Preparando todo para su primer disco Para la grabación de este disco, se pidió a Bush utilizar músicos de sesión en lugar de la KT Bush Band, aunque siguió conservando a algunos de ellos, como su hermano Paddy que tocaba la armónica y la mandolina o Stuart Elliott que tocó algunos de los tambores y se convirtió en su baterista principal en álbumes posteriores. David Gilmour produce dos de los temas del mismo. Una de las canciones más conocidas de este disco es ‘Wutherings Heights’, que fue el primer éxito de su carrera, llegando a ser la primera vez que una cantautora encabezó las listas con una canción escrita por ella misma. Está inspirada en la novela única novela que escribió en 1847 Emily Brontë. Se mantuvo en el número uno en la lista de singles del Reino Unido durante cuatro semanas y sigue siendo el sencillo más exitoso de Bush. Pitchfork la nombró la quinta mejor canción de la década de 1970, y en 2020, The Guardian la clasificó como el decimocuarto mejor sencillo número uno del Reino Unido. Bush escribió la canción a los 18 años, después de ver la adaptación de la BBC de 1967 de la novela Cumbres Borrascosas de 1847. Al leer el libro descubrió que compartía su cumpleaños con la autora del mismo. Otro de los temas más conocidos del disco es “The Man with the Child in His Eyes”, que fue sacada como segundo single. Escribió la canción cuando tenía 13 años y la grabó a los 16 bajo la dirección de David Gilmour. En 2010, el ex presentador de radio y televisión Steve Blacknell, que fue el primer novio de Bush, ofreció a la venta la letra original escrita a mano de la canción a través del sitio web de recuerdos musicales 991.com. La propia Bush nunca ha dicho sobre quién escribió la canción, pero Backnell ha declarado que una persona cercana a Bush le había dicho que la canción estaba escrita sobre él. Durante mucho tiempo se supuso que se trataba de Gilmour. A día de hoy, Kate Bush ha sido nominada a 13 galardones de la industria fonográfica británica, ganó como Mejor Artista Femenina Británica en 1987 y ha sido nominada a tres premios Grammy. En 2002, Bush fue reconocida con un premio Ivor Novello por su destacada contribución a la música británica. Bush fue nombrado CBE en los Honores de Año Nuevo de 2013 por sus servicios a la música. Fue nominada tres veces para aparecer en elSalón de la Fama del Rock and Roll de 2018, 2021 y 2022.

February 13, 2022 | John 9:1-12 | Matt Tinken, Pastoral Candidate | Series: The Living Word The post He Rubbed Mud in His Eyes appeared first on First Free Church Chicago.

Jesus says that few of His sacred servants are prepared for His Second Coming. He says it is time to awaken your spirit, read the Words contained in the Bible and then pray for the Gift of discernment. You must be willing to listen and humble yourselves before His Eyes.

1978年2月17日，Kate Bush发行出道专辑《The Inside Kick》，专辑在英国专辑榜最高达到第3位。奇怪的是Kate Bush出道的小样，竟然是Pink Floyd的David Gilmour制作的，这究竟是怎么一回事？ 今日推荐歌曲： 来自Kate Bush《The Inside Kick》的《The Man with the Child in His Eyes》

1978年2月17日，Kate Bush发行出道专辑《The Inside Kick》，专辑在英国专辑榜最高达到第3位。奇怪的是Kate Bush出道的小样，竟然是Pink Floyd的David Gilmour制作的，这究竟是怎么一回事？ 今日推荐歌曲： 来自Kate Bush《The Inside Kick》的《The Man with the Child in His Eyes》

Welcome back to Season 3, Episode of Rise of the Runelords!  This is session 2 of the siege of Fort Rannick.  In this weeks installment of Clinton's Core Classics Podcast: Ullr cracks an egg, Gintaras discusses dragons with Reetin, Reetin is desparate to find any out he can get, Seres and Harper are desperate to create fire and the remaining Black Arrows reconsider who they have decided to call allies.  Everyone critically fumbles all over the place. Music Credits: The Curtain Rises Interloper Chee-Zee Caves Arcane Rising Tide Exotic Battle Steel Rods The Way Out by Kevin MacLeod (https://incompetech.com) Wanderer by Alexander Nakarada (www.serpentsoundstudios.com) His Eyes are Fire by Matthias Gleichmann (www.loewenklang.de) This End by Evan King (evanking.bandcamp.com) Licensed under Creative Commons BY Attribution 4.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Ooo it's here again: another episode of Strange Phenomena. In this weeks' episode, Cecilee Linke gets to discuss one of Kate's most famous songs, The Man with the Child in His Eyes, with her first call-in guest, Jason Taub, another American Kate fan. Jason and Cecilee talk about this song's live appearance on Saturday Night Live in … Continue reading S01E05 – The Man with the Child in His Eyes