novels4u.com

Life is too short for boring stories

Where were you, His disciples, as He went down into the deepest of desolations? Where have you, His disciples, hidden you, trembling and fearful, when He died the death that embraces all others? Where have you been, Simon Peter, when He abandoned himself to inevitability? Where have you been, Simon Petrus, you rock that crumbles …

weiterlesen

You may have often wondered what it was, that inevitability of which He spoke, when He took you, lifted Himself up to take you with Him, to follow the way He had to go, had to go with you, but you did not dare to ask him. You feared His answer too much. But you …

weiterlesen

You entered, walking straight towards Him, stopping right in front of Him, embracing the alabaster vessel, upright and strong. His blue eyes were on you, His eyes embraced you in all their fullness. No, you’ve never met a man like that, you’d never meet such a man again, and yet, as much as you wished …

weiterlesen

You walked straight, looking up and open, and not lowered humbly, as you probably expected, upright as you crossed the square, toward the house where He was with His disciples. At the open door you stopped, because where He was, there was nothing closed, nothing that could be removed from His view. He sat in …

weiterlesen

You stepped in front of your house, holding firmly the alabaster vessel with fragrant needle oil, which was no longer trembling, and your jet-black, long hair, freed from the cloth and hiding, glistened in the sun. All unrest had fallen away from you, and the looks, the envious and the malicious, the drooling and the …

weiterlesen

Your hands trembled as you took the alabaster vessel that was filled to the brim with that wonderfully fragrant oil as you held it and made your way to it. Your heart beat violently as you stepped out of the house, and your open hair glistened in the sun, your long, jet-black hair. You had …

weiterlesen

With all naturalness. So it was to share everything, including housework. Jesus, Mary and me. All the little things that are done because they are to be made. Rinse the tea cups e.g. Because you want to fill them again. Clean up the kitchen and the rest of the house. There were no discussions. It …

weiterlesen

„What are you thinking about?“, Mary asked me, as she handed me a cup of tea and sat with her to me in front of the fireplace. „How can you really celebrate Christmas, the feast of life for all, with a woman in the center and at the same time telling her she’s not worth …

weiterlesen

The wind had driven away the clouds and the sun was shining and sparkling in a clear sky. It pulled me out, also to the graves and the churches. Here, according to legend, settled Kevin of Glendalough and very quickly found many followers. Now the place is a tourist attraction, picturesquely located in a valley …

weiterlesen

„Christmas is only nice with children,“ I heard again and again. But even more often, how much stress that means and how much you look forward to it when the hustle and bustle was finally over again. And so I sat at home and thought, why do you do it all then, especially when there …

weiterlesen

%d Bloggern gefällt das: