Scarlet Robe Creations

Father, I speak humbly. I speak without the colors of pride. I push aside all that leads to sin, and for moment, while the world is held at bay, I endeavor to hear you. Father, I am weak. I speak from my knees with a seeker's heart. I struggle to focus when my soul is troubled and my thoughts become jumbled amid my distress. Father, my words are few, somedays. I know not what I am to offer. I have nothing worthy of a temple's flame nor do I have purity of heart and mind. Father, today my knees ache and my mind is weary. My petitions are rarely changed. I cherish the gifts you have bestowed on me and ponder the days to come. Father, have mercy on my floundering soul. I am a wretched vagabond an exile of your creation. Look on me with kindness when like the prodigal son I return. copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author https://www.goodreads.com

Donald P James Sr - March 5, 1925 - June 21, 2017 Ninety-two years, Normandy, Bronze Star and a Purple Heart, brother, hero, husband and father. A voice for those who were silent. Ninety-two years, most spent in machine shops defending your country as you did when storming beaches. A supporter of the few rights in the world. Ninety-two years, under the gaze of God, knowing the cross, questioning the temples and following faith where it led. Father, dad, someone I could talk of Notre Dame football with and then the challenges of knowing Christ. A man whose faults were human and gifts were sacred. Father, dad, the icon standing taller than I. Ninety-two years, an example of light shining out through the shadows of life. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author A Collection of Writings  from the Pen of the Spirit of the Handicapped Free download on Draft 2 Digital Letters From the Spir...