Kevin's Watch

Dear friends, in order to make the forum more inviting and fresh, the threads Stickied by Furls' Fire are now unstickied. This is in no way to take away from the value of her contributions, they are still well worth reading. It is simply to make room for new contributions and make it less overwhelming to read and post. May those who have passed on rest in peace forever.

In order to keep them easily accessible to those who visit the Hall in order to find her contributions, here are the links to the threads:

Sweet Grace: From the journal pages of Furls Fire

Glorious Passing (Tracie, 1963-2010)

Some of my brother's writings

Glorious Passing (Isaiah, 1966-2004)

Glorious Passing (Alex, 1980-2009)

Stephen C. McKinney Memorial Thread (1969-2001)

I have spent some time now going over all I could find here on The Watch about Furls Fire.

During my erratic participation and in between apparitions, I was always completely unaware that an angel, and a seemingly mighty one at that, had been a constant presence here.

And so it is with every precious, random or predetermined, grain of life that we are given but fail to grasp, with every drop of light that falls along our way ready to show us the right path, but all we are able to do is waste it along with many other gifts and clues as we succumb to doubt, fear, despair, confusion.

There is nothing of mine that I find worth adding, but it feels weird, and uncomfortable, to hold these thoughts unspoken, so I'll just go about it as it is and, also being one accustomed to loss, leave a poem that I hang to from time to time when nights are darker than their usual dark.

Sorry, I know this may seem uncanny from a total outsider, but I just couldn't steer my mind from it.


Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

- Mary Elizabeth Frye

As Mom would always say...everyone is welcome to Uncle Steve's thread, NO ONE is an outsider here.

Now I say...no one is an outsider to any of her threads, or the thread I started for posting her journal entries...

Be welcome to Mom's little Watch corners, Morning...

Hey Brooke!

Hi Fisty!!