We Are Bound Together

I found this to be interesting.
This is a picture of a protein called - Laminin.
Laminins bind our cells together
and why is it surprising that they come in a shape of a cross?

Laminins are cell adhesion molecules that hold us together.
If we did not have them, we would fall apart .

Just think how many laminins or shape like crosses, we have inside all of us,
and how science finds similar shapes in common elements created naturally or by some
mistake. or accident.

Christians got excited about finding Laminins in people because of the King James Version of the Bible.
Colossians 1:15-17 states:

The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. ¹⁶ For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. ¹⁷ He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

This, for them, further confirms that man was made in God's image and it made it more so believable that the birth of Jesus and the path his life took, to be knowingly and obligingly, crucified on a cross, was pre ordained.

If a person believes in symbolism, then it all makes sense, to find - Laminins in man, crosses, elements, Christianity, the Bible and God - all related.

What are the chances that Laminins end up looking like crosses?
Why not circles or squiggles or triangles or some other polygon?

I found this to be quite intriguing, especially on such a blah day we are having today, so thought I would share.
Thanks
:)

Easter Blessings

This week my blog is dedicated to Easter
It was always a special time for my family.
I can still see my Mom making her dough .
She’d collect her coffee cans weeks ahead to be ready.
She got all her ingredients together and had such painstaking
Love and pride in making her Easter bread.
They were her babies and she’d hover over them and
roll them so they stayed nice and round

She would make three / four runs at it, so we’d have about 25
by the time she was through, all different sizes.
They tasted so wonderful .

She never gave away her recipes,
But people would call her and ask
to exchange one of hers for one of theirs.
She could have said no but she never did.
It was her pleasure to make people happy.

My job was to make the pysanky eggs to give away.



My Dad would have the job of going to St Lawrence Street to get the special bacon
which could be eaten as is, and the schmaltz herring, the best in the whole world.
He would get the cheese to make the special cheese dish made for this occasion.
And the polish garlic sausage that was sold in rings and other kolbassa’s. like Moishes smoked meat.
They sold caviar in glass jars. It was always fresh.
Fresh salt was also included on the list.

You could never beat Montreal’s, St Lawrence Street, where food was concerned in those days.
The smells filled the street as you walked from store to store.
The old people knew their stuff and the secrets died along with them.
I have never tasted a bagel or a cheese knish, poppy seed danish or even rye bread, as good as the way
these people made them. Their stores never cried for customers.
They came in hoards and there was always enough.

The ovens baked continuously. People worked quickly.
It was a question of pride for them.
Being war survivors, food was important to enjoy.
And very few people were fat.

Preparing for Easter was a very big thing for our family
We always had a beautiful basket to take to church to be blessed.

Every family went out of their way for their baskets and it brought people
together because we could compare notes,
have nice things to talk about and share.

Today it is all changed. We throw away so many good traditions which are important
to raise good families.
We set examples for our children to follow and if nothing is important
to us, then nothing is important to them either.

So I dedicate this week to Easter.
I dedicate it to the Love this man Jesus, brought into my life.

I thank him for sending me to be born, live with and understand war survivors
who raised me to be a good person, and kept me ignorant of the ugliness
they had to go through, so I could have a child hood.
They could have been bitter but instead they learned what it meant to be alive
how to love, and how special every day is.

Though they may be gone, I carry them in my heart and soul and every day
I feel their presence all around me.
I see their eyes and their smiles.
I miss them
I miss their sunshine but I am happy knowing that where they are today
is a blessed place.
:)

Finding Truth

Truth stands still
Waiting to be found.
It stands steadfast
It has no need to frown

But People hurry
They pass Truth all day long
The days are full of worry
No one wants to fail.

Papers fill the court rooms , governments and stands
and when they fail to find the truth words turn to swords and hail
The churches mosques and temples cry
They sputter, We're the truth
But Truth just stands and listens
It has nothing to prove.

A Mother stands at a blood soaked cross
A drop falls on her skin
She looks up and finds the eyes of Truth
Forgiving soft and warm

Truth's pain and sorrow is so hard to bear.
It tears her soul to shreds

And as tears flow, her body dries
Till there is nothing left

Brain drained she sits in solitude
Proclaiming not a word

So raw and hard, and cold
Truth turns her eyes to stone.

Around her, life continues
People rush about

They still seek Truth in papers
And fools take bullets out

Will they ever find it?
It is hard to say
A Mother's Truth was crucified
Just a stone's throw away.



This is another poem which depicts how hard it is to get at truth especially when there are so many webs spun around it that it could be staring you in the face and you will never see it and as soon as you speak it, it exists no more as it was.

Truth is usually found in simplicity. It is hidden because sometimes people cannot handle it or will not accept it ,so not to contaminate truth, it is hidden until it is ready to unfold.

If truth is hidden from grown up men and women because they are not ready to receive it,
who are we to disclose our version of truth, to the young, who we know are not ready to receive it either? Why does God show us greater respect by hiding what we cannot handle, than we do our own children?

A Mother whose heart and soul is broken, vows never to speak again, for she understands there is nothing left that is worth saying to men and mankind.

It makes the worlds' job that much harder, to obtain from her the truth she knows and understands but will not disclose. Truth, could be the difference between man's continuing existence or demise.
Will man ever find it?

It is hard to say.