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November 13, 2021
Message 12th Nov Faith exploration on forgotten forgiveness

In the years since I wrote this (28th July 2016), I have discovered there is more than the oblivion I ascribed

There is a story told about Jesus interviewing people at the gate to Heaven. He comes across a man who might be Joseph, who is elderly, failing eyesight and hearing and understanding. Jesus asks him if there is anything Joseph left behind. Joseph replied there was a beautiful boy who had wisdom beyond his years, and yet was childlike. He had nails in his hands and feet. Jesus looked significantly at Joseph, and Joseph looked back, and then asked "Pinocchio?"

It is said that all writing is rewriting. And so the story of Pinocchio has tensions mirroring the Christ story. Pinocchio goes to hell, and is reborn as a good boy. Literary analysts connect this progression with Homer's Odyssey. Pinocchio wants to be a real boy. Christ was God made a real person. And so the joke laughingly suggests the true story of Christ is the fantasy of Pinocchio, but highlights the truth that all writing is rewriting.

There is no escaping God. God has forgiven all of us. Not that God approves of sin, but that God has made a way by which we can be with Him even though we are sinful. We are often, for a time, captured by our memory. We have made choices which don't include God. And every bad choice we make makes it harder to make a good one. The Devil points to our past and tells us that there is no way God can accept us. But we know the Devil's future. And we don't have to share it. Even though we have a past.

The point was driven home to me powerfully recently when I learned an elderly woman was suffering dementia. She has spent her whole adult life opposing God. Cursed as a child by betrayal from her father, two of her three sisters suicided. Her mother was strongly religious without having awareness of God as saviour. She had married a man who gave her children, but she rejected her husband when a child died and she never remarried. She raised her children to hate God, and told her dying child that there was no hope with God. And she would sleep with the ashes of her child. And she would drink and sweat alcohol. And no one who knew her casually knew to help. And so she has aged. And one day she will die. But what of her pain and her choices? Her dementia robs her of choice, as it will eventually rob her of life. And yet there is mercy too. And maybe, some nurse will show her love which she would never accept from others, kindness.

I now know I was wrong. The woman has still not succumbed. Her dementia has advanced. No one person can give her redemption. But God can. He is there for us, regardless of our circumstance. We can turn to God and wrongly hope for a better quality of life. It is good to hope for better. It is better to embrace God.

addendum, the detail in this missive is personal. I'm not betraying any trust, but many might feel I'm being fast and loose. I don't write about my family because family is separate from my mission, for many bad reasons. I have written a little of my mother and father, but nothing of my living siblings and very little about my sister Pamela, who died on Feb 14th 1978, when I was 11 years old. Feb 14th 1978 was when I first dreamt of meeting God. I am in poor health and could reasonably expect to die in the next few years. The explosive nature of some of what I have written in the past is likely to allow sibling rivals to mischaracterise what I have written on mission. I have done no wrong, no outrage of public decency. I'm very conscious that my step mother is failing in her duty to protect my father's legacy. I cannot protect my self and him at the same time. She is his advocate. He is a great man whose life work in education greatly enriched humanity. I was estranged from him at birth, when he named me 'o'DDBall and at the end of his life, with my last words to him being a sarcastic "Stay in touch, don't be a stranger." I won't explain why. It has nothing to do with my mission.

David Daniel Ball
26th July 2021
AUAWN0726321
storiesthatheal.blogspot.com/2016/07/forgotten-forgiveness.html

https://rumble.com/vkbyiz-faith-exploration-on-forgotten-forgiveness.html

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November 27, 2022
Jingle Bell Rock

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring
Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun
Now the jingle hop has begun

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time
Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square
In the frosty air

What a bright time, it's the right time
To rock the night away
Jingle bell time is a swell time
To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh

Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jinglin' feet
That's the jingle bell rock

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bell chime in jingle bell time
Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square
In the frosty air

What a bright time, it's the right time
To rock the night away
Jingle bell time is a swell time
To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh

Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jinglin' feet
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle...

00:02:04
September 01, 2021
Intro to Locals for the Conservative Voice

David Daniel Ball calls himself the Conservative Voice.

I'm a teacher with three decades experience teaching math to high school kids.I also work with first graders and kids in between first grade and high school. I know the legends of why Hypatia's dad is remembered through his contribution to Math theory. And I know the legend of why followers of Godel had thought he had disproved God's existence.

I'm not a preacher, but I am a Christian who has written over 28 books all of which include some reference to my faith. Twelve blog books on world history and current affairs, detailing world events , births and marriages on each day of the year, organised by month. Twelve books on the background to and history of Bible Quotes. One Bible quote per day for a year. An intro to a science fiction series I'm planning, post apocalyptic cyber punk. An autobiography with short story collections.

I'm known in Australia for my failure as a whistleblower over the negligence death of a school boy. ...

00:01:50
December 08, 2025
Good Shepherd Blues

Listen to “The Good Shepherd Blues” once in the dark, volume low enough that you have to lean in like you’re eavesdropping on the apostle himself.
Then play it again, loud enough for the walls to shake.
When that last unresolved chord is still ringing in your chest, ask yourself:
“Who are the sheep Jesus has put in my fold right now?
Who am I willing to lay my life down for, one ordinary, painful day at a time?”
Write their names down.
Call them. Visit them. Feed them the truth, even if it costs you.
Because the Good Shepherd is still calling His sheep by name,
and tonight He might be using your cracked, trembling voice to do it.
Don’t wait for tomorrow.
The wolves never do.
Now go.
Lay it down.
The Shepherd sees.

The Good Shepherd Blues
(John’s Song – Ephesus, sometime around AD 95)
(Slow 12-bar blues in A minor – play it like an old man who’s seen too much but still got fire in his eyes)
Verse 1
I am the disciple that Jesus loved, they say
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December 04, 2025

Beethoven’s Last Blues (John’s Gospel in D-minor)
🎹 Turn the lights down low.
Grab your oldest headphones, your darkest room, and the heaviest heart you’ve got.
Play “Beethoven’s Last Blues” once—at the volume you’re scared to use.
Let it crawl inside the silence you carry.
When the final low D fades into nothing, don’t move.
Stay there in the dark until you feel something rise up that has no sound.
That’s the Word becoming flesh in you.
That’s joy breaking through deafness.
Now pass it on.
Send it to the one who’s lost their music.
Tell them: the conversation hasn’t ended.
The Ninth is still coming.
And it’s coming for them.
Play it loud enough for the deaf to hear.
Because joy was made to outrun silence.
#BeethovensLastBlues #TheWordBecameFlesh

Woke up this mornin’, world gone black as coal,
Ears full of silence, Lord, it done swallowed my soul.
Fingers still dancin’ on keys that don’t speak no more,
Hammer and string keep lyin’, like a lover walkin’...

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December 01, 2025
Picking Cotton 2

Stand with the Blue: Honor Nicola Cotton, Learn from Redfern
Imagine a young officer, full of promise, gunned down in broad daylight—her only "crime" was stepping up to protect her community. That's the heartbreaking reality of Nicola Cotton, the 24-year-old New Orleans policewoman murdered in 2008 while trying to arrest a suspect. Eight weeks pregnant, she was shot 15 times with her own service weapon by a man with a history of severe mental illness who had been prematurely released from care. Her death wasn't just a loss for Louisiana; it exposed raw cracks in our systems—mental health failures, under-resourced patrols, and the relentless dangers officers face in high-risk neighborhoods.
Now fast-forward to Sydney's Redfern riots of 2004, half a world away. A 17-year-old Indigenous teen, TJ Hickey, dies in a tragic bike accident during what police called a routine patrol—but his community saw it as yet another flashpoint in a cycle of distrust, poverty, and ...

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Ballad of Jampijinpa: A Warlpiri Dreamtime Bambi in the Tanami Desert
improved marketing on Rumble
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Journey to the Tanami Desert with the Ballad of Jampijinpa, a Warlpiri Jukurrpa retelling of Bambi. Follow Jampijinpa, a young red kangaroo, as he learns the sacred laws of his Country from Napangardi, faces dangers like the machine’s shadow, and rises as a leader under the Seven Sisters’ stars. This Dreamtime story celebrates Warlpiri culture, resilience, and connection to the land. Comment your favorite Indigenous story below! Subscribe for more Warlpiri tales and join my Locals for exclusive Jukurrpa insights.
The story of Bambi is, for many, their first encounter with profound loss. Writing this story in Warlpiri Dreamtime, Tanami Desert context. Loss is part of life, yet life goes on. But, a good life, serving the community is also important. How do Indigenous stories like Jampijinpa’s inspire you?
 
Notes on the Adaptation: Setting and Characters: The Tanami Desert replaces the forest, with native animals (red kangaroo, dingo, mallee fowl, perentie) as characters, reflecting the local ecology. Warlpiri skin names (Jampijinpa, Napangardi, etc.) root the characters in kinship systems, central to Warlpiri identity. Jukurrpa: The Dreamtime frames the story as a sacred narrative, where loss and growth are part of the land’s law. The “shadow” (a machine) nods to modern intrusions like mining, a real threat in the Tanami, but keeps the story timeless. Themes: Bambi’s coming-of-age becomes a journey of learning country and law, emphasizing Warlpiri values of responsibility and connection. The mother’s death and the fire echo Bambi’s trials but are grounded in desert realities. Cultural Respect: I avoided inventing sacred details or mimicking restricted Warlpiri stories, focusing on universal elements (land, kinship, survival) informed by public Warlpiri narratives, like those shared in art or ethnographies.
 
The Ballad of Jampijinpa In Tanami’s heart where the spinifex sways, ‘Neath the Jukurrpa’s first starlit blaze, The ancestors carved from the red desert’s hand, Young Jampijinpa, to guard sacred land.
Chorus: Oh, Jampijinpa, with bounds swift and free, Carry the law of your country’s decree. Through sand and through sorrow, your spirit will roam, In the Tanami’s dreaming, you’ll always find home.
Napangardi taught him the desert’s old ways, Where soakages shimmer through blistering days. The bilby’s soft tracks led to yams in the ground, And the wind whispered tales when no rain could be found. With Jangala, dingo, he leaped o’er the plain, While Nungarrayi tidied the earth’s ancient pain. The oaks sang of patience, the elders stood near, Their ochre-lit eyes guiding young kangaroo’s fear. But dawn brought a shadow, a roar cold as stone, A machine’s cruel hunger tore flesh from the bone. Napangardi fell, her spirit took flight, To the ancestors’ campfire in the starwoven night.
Chorus: Oh, Jampijinpa, with bounds swift and free, Carry the law of your country’s decree. Through sand and through sorrow, your spirit will roam, In the Tanami’s dreaming, you’ll always find home.
Alone, he wandered, his heart like a stone, The sand stung his eyes, and the silence did moan. But Japangardi rose, scales gleaming bright, “You’re never lost, son, in the Jukurrpa’s light.” The bilby taught digging, the oak whispered peace, Nungarrayi scratched paths where the stories increase. Jangala’s yips brought a laugh to the blaze, And Jampijinpa grew strong through the desert’s hard days. Then Nakamarra, with dawn in her gaze, Danced by his side through the sandhills’ soft maze. But fire returned, born of shadow’s old sin, Yet Jampijinpa led kin to the soakage within.
Chorus: Oh, Jampijinpa, with bounds swift and free, Carry the law of your country’s decree. Through sand and through sorrow, your spirit will roam, In the Tanami’s dreaming, you’ll always find home.
Atop the red dune, his shadow stretched far, A keeper of law ‘neath the desert’s bright star. The elders now sing from their camp in the sky, And Jampijinpa’s tracks never fade, never die.
Final Chorus: Oh, Jampijinpa, your story’s been spun, A thread in the Jukurrpa, forever begun. The Tanami dreams, and its stars softly call, For the kangaroo’s heart that will never grow small.
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