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Book Officially Published: "Gepi: He Was Truly Our Baby." 


I pray this day finds you well! 

I just wanted to share with you some of my great, great news! 

I just had a book published: "Gepi: He Was Truly Our Baby." It is a true story of a very exceptional, extraordinary, and amazing cat!

This book has been uploaded onto the following platforms:  Amazon Kindle, Draft2Digital, and IngramSpark- and has been sent out to all of their distributors.  It is available in both Ebook and paperback. Ebook sells for $4.95, and paperback, $20.00, both in American currency. 

Here is a list of some of the affiliates to which my book has been sent: 

Tolino; Apple; Kobo; Baker and Taylor; Barnes and Noble; Scribd; OverDrive; Bibliotheca; and 24 Symbols. 

Besides being an incredibly interesting and fun read, this book deals with the sometimes extremely difficult decision(s) that families sometimes have to make when it comes to terminally ill family members. Despite the challenges of these times- this story exemplifies hope, courage, and inspiration.  

 Please feel free to share this information with everyone on your contact list(s); and with as many people that you may know!

Thank you, and with great gratitude and respect,



"Lord, Let Me Find Kindness Today." 




“Lord, Let Me Find Kindness Today”


Sometimes a sacrifice of love

is what's required in a day;

maybe just a moment in time

to help another find their way.


Hands reach out and ask for coins

and maybe numbered paper too;

instead you examine what's before you

as you decide what you're going to do.


You're not moved by the dirt soiled hands

or the clothes not changed in weeks;

the flesh that barely sticks to the bone

or the tears flowing down the cheeks.


The stench you decide is too unpleasant

as you take strides to the other side;

adding shame and sorrow to the already hurting

as in their crumbling world they hide.


Their day may have begun with a simple prayer

“Lord, let me find kindness today,”

Instead they felt what pushed them out

and caused their lives to go astray.


Sometimes it takes a sacrifice of love-

as the vagrant gives his last bite to his friend;

he doesn't care about the dirt soiled hands

only that he'll live...to see another day end.


(c) Godwin H. Barton



A Tribute To Our Nephew 

Bradley Nathan Doolan: November 1977 - March 2018

The Secret Place

I shall walk these streets without you-
no more shall I see your face;
my heart may shift in brokenness-
until I too...have run my race.

You sat in the “Presence of an Almighty God,”
your tears did flow as a river;
your body it shook as by a mighty wind-
an arrow longing to leave the quiver.

You set your sights on heaven above-
before any of us ever knew;
this was your prayer in the secret place
as you- with the Angels flew.

Your prayers were presented one final time-
as the Angels approached The Father:
“It’s a prayer unlike anything we’ve heard-
his pleas just keep getting louder.”

The Father no doubt with tears in His eyes-
in delight looked upon His son:
“This one he’s so incredibly special-
take him home...his race is done.”

In Loving Memory of our Dear Nephew Brad...

Loving you always, Uncle Godwin. (C)


A Brand New Beginning 

A Brand New Start


I sit here in the “Glorious Presence of God,”

in awe of His Magnificence and Wonder;

my heart before Him is silent and still-

as on the strength of His arm I ponder.


Will our enemies surely be laid to waste

as His word does so clearly say;

those that set snares and evil speakings

will torture be the end of their day.


The one who is prideful and lifted up

and made the world bow down at his feet;

will he be brought down and trampled upon

with only death's horror he's yet to meet.


The one who takes food from the mouth of a child

and leaves the family trembling in terror;

will their flesh deteriorate and fall from their bones

as they admire themselves in the mirror.


The tragedy is such- these things need not be

If only for a change of heart;

His arm can extend in Love and Grace

this can be...a brand new start.


Godwin H. Barton (c)



If I Perish, I Perish 

II Chronicles 20: 15 (KJV)

"...Thus saith the Lord unto you, be not afraid nor dismayed by reason of this great multitude;

for the battle is not yours, but God's."





The words of Esther, as she went by great faith before the king- on behalf of her people: "If I perish, I perish."


Esther 4: 11 (KJV):  All the king's servants, and the people of the king's provinces, do know, that whosoever, whether man or woman, shall come unto the king into the inner court, who is not called, there is one law of his to put him to death, except such to whom the king shall hold out the golden sceptre, that he may live: but I have not been called to come in unto the king these past thirty days.


The lives of Esther's people, the Jews, were at stake- they were about to be massacred in the one hundred and twenty seven provinces of the Kingdom of Ahasuerus. An evil plan devised by a man named Haman- which in its initial stages- had the approval of the king.


A man named Mordecai, raised Esther and played a part in getting her into the position as the new Queen (Esther 2: 5 - 17 KJV). Verse 7 reads: And he (Mordecai) brought up Hadassah, that is, Esther, his uncle's daughter: for she had neither father nor mother, and the maid was fair and beautiful; whom Mordecai, when her father and mother were dead, took  for his own daughter. 


The are a few events which lead to Haman's distaste and hatred toward the Jews- so much so, that he wanted to destroy them all. It all began with his growing hatred toward one man: Mordecai.  King Ahasuerus had promoted and advanced Haman and set his seat above all the princes that were with him. Esther 3: 2- And all the king's servants, that were in the king's gate, bowed, and reverenced Haman: for the king had so commanded concerning him. But Mordecai bowed not, nor did him reverence.


Esther 3: 3,4,5 (KJV): Then the king's servants which were in the king's gate, said unto Mordecai, Why transgressest thou the king's commandment? Now it came to pass, when they spoke daily unto him, and he hearkened not unto them, that they told Haman, to see whether Mordecai's matters would stand: for he told them that he was a Jew. And when Haman saw that Mordecai bowed not, nor did him reverence, then was Haman full of wrath.


This is where the evil plot begins- because Mordecai refused to bow down to man.


Haman convinced the king that there is a people in his kingdom whose laws differ from all the people and that they do not keep the king's laws; therefore, it is not profitable for the king to keep them and Haman suggested, "If it please the king, let it be written that they may be destroyed..." (Esther 3: 8,9) The king agreed.


Word of this came to Mordecai as he sat in the gate of the king's palace. Immediately, he sent word to Esther...and made request of her that she should approach the king and have this decision reversed. At first, Esther hesitated, as no one was to come unto the king into the inner court, without first, being summoned: for if one came into the inner court without being summoned, and the king raised not, his golden sceptre- that one was to be put to death.


Esther 4: 13,14 (KJV): Then Mordecai commanded to answer Esther, think not with thyself that thou shalt escape in the king's house, more than all the Jews. For if thou altogether holdest thou peace at this time, then shall there enlargement and deliverance arise to the Jews from another place; but thou and thy father's house shall be destroyed: and who knoweth whether thou art come to the Kingdom for such a time as this?


Esther responded: Go, gather together all the Jews that are present in Shushan, and fast ye for me, and neither eat nor drink three days, night or day; I also and my maidens will fast likewise; and so will I go in unto the king, which is not according to the law: and if I perish, I perish. So Mordecai went his way, and did according to all that Esther had commanded him (Esther 4: 16,17 KJV).


Truthfully, I do not know where the Father is going to take me with this, but for now, this is what I feel I have to share. It all began a couple of weeks ago when the Father prompted me to read the book of Esther. As I had read, over a few day period, and came to the end of chapter four- the above reference- with each word that I read, in light of Esther's faith and courage- I began to weep, I began to cry. By the time I got to, "If I perish, I perish," I was weeping, crying, broken in the presence of God once again: swept away, and lost in His Spirit- in awe of His magnificent wonder that He would call us to such an incredible, life threatening task, that he may show Himself faithful, once more.


To be continued...





















And Angels Can Be Seen 




Happy Valentine's Day!

I pray your love burns as radiantly as the sun- and resonates passionately...with the beauty of every sunset; for now and forever.  I dedicate this poem to a very, very special friend of mine...


Angels Can Be Seen


I stood and stared

into your eyes;

piercing and strong

as fiery skies.


Tears they flowed

as a mighty stream;

again you were reminded

of the miraculous dream.


Elegance and beauty

words fail to describe;

immaculate and graceful

on heaven's tide.


One can only imagine

a treasure to hold so tight;

that true love flows

and fear takes flight.


Maybe for now it is

that you are only a dream;

but dreams come true

and Angels can be seen.


(c) Godwin H. Barton

Photo: Compliments of my nephew, Donald, who lives in Prince George, BC. Thank you!




The Transformation: Sobriety- Ten Years Later: January 30th, 2009. 




This is another post from my old blog: "Past the Wall of Tears."  Although I still have access to each post, a lot of the posts from this blog- after a period of time were removed from the main page and archived.  Hence the date of the post, January 30th., 2009- my ten year sobriety date.

I haven't written an entry for each year of my sobriety, but I was reflecting on my ten year celebration- only the second time I took a cake at an AA Meeting. The First cake was at my one year sobriety birthday.  These are two mile-stones that I will never forget; especially the first year- and what it took to get there.

January 30th., 2015, will be my sixteen year sobriety birthday- drug and alcohol free, by the "Grace of God" for sixteen years.  As I reflect on my years of recovery, and again, what it's taken me to get here- I had to re-post reflections on my tenth year.  Here it is...

I wept joyfully as I drove to work today. Today is my sobriety birthday. "Ten years clean and sober- by the Grace of God." Such joy, such fulfillment, such life! Truly, there is no life like it.

The first picture (above) was taken as I was entering my grade eight year (the little guy standing with me is my nephew and great friend, Chris). The second, a complete transformation: the end of my grade eleven year. I began a work out program in grade eleven so that I could get my PE credits for my high school graduation. My weight, as obvious in the first picture, was a real problem. By the end of the year I had lost fifty-two pounds...and to think, this all began with a twenty dollar bet with my grade eleven PE teacher.

This is how I feel about my sobriety: transformed-I'm certainly not the man I was ten years ago. I have experienced significant growth- mentally, emotionally, physically, and above all, spiritually. I have a relationship with the Father (God!) today- that can fully be described as "Best Friends Forever!" I've come to know him in ways that I never knew he existed, and have experienced his grace and mercy in ways that continues to blow my mind. He truly is a God beyond the four walls of a church, and not just one who sits on a throne in the heavens, watching my every move, just waiting to "throw darts of lightning" at me the minute I mess up.

He walks with me, he talks with me. I hear him in the wind and the rustling leaves. He's the hand that causes the trees to sway and the grass to bow. He makes the waters flow so crisp and so clean. He causes every star in the sky to shine most beautifully- and just when you sneak a peek at them, he causes them to "twinkle," just for you! As I'm walking and I say "good-morning" to the singing birds, or to the squirrel that runs across the street or up a tree...it is God. He is every where, in every thing; and the most beautiful thing of all, every time the sun shines you can feel his beautiful warmth upon your face: caressing you, loving you. He is so wonderful; so beautiful. When I'm at the beach at the waters edge with grains of sand slipping through my fingers...it is God. He's the sound of the waves as they crash lightly and softly against the shore. When I think about the beauty and awesomeness of God, I am moved emotionally: I cry. He's so tender, full of grace, and rich in mercy. In the early months of my sobriety, when the pain was too great, and uncertainty and chaos was the torture of my soul, he didn't turn away, but allowed me to be me, and let me go through that passage I needed to go through to get well.

I cussed, I cursed, I swore. I yelled, I shouted, I screamed. I punched, I kicked, and I threw. I blamed. You know what he did? He loved me. He loved me again and again, and again. As much as I fought it and didn't want it, he loved me anyway. A tortured soul full of bitterness, hatred, and rage doesn't want to have anything to do with love. If once there was love and trust that was shattered with death, destruction, and broken promises- love is the furthest thing from one's mind. I could feel his hands wrapping around me, in these my moments of torture. I could feel his embrace when I tried to fight it. I could feel his love when I didn't want it. He sat with me, after I'd just gotten through throwing the biggest fit of rage, and calling him every foul name that I could think of, cursing him, hating him...and he whispered: "Godwin. I Love You."

Oh that the world would come to know such a loving God; such a kind, caring, generous, and compassionate God.

That the broken hearted could know that there is hope. Let this hope begin with knowing that God is everywhere, in everything. He'll meet you where ever you are at. In that deep and darkened room with that needle in your arm. In that back alley as you sit in your unwashed and filthy clothing that you've worn for the past few months- drinking from that bottle of whiskey that you pan handled for. Your family has given up on you, your friends have given up on you. No one wants to have any thing to do with you any more. You're a hopeless case. Guess what? There is love...there is so much love. It's in the winnowing wings of angels that sit at your side watching over you. You wonder why that empty bottle suddenly fell off the table as you were sitting there ready to inject your arm- you are not alone. You wonder why- when there was no breeze, that- that empty, crushed, pop can suddenly came your way. You're not alone.

There is the heavenlies; the invisible. There is the spiritual. There is God. There is hope.

Where do we go from here. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives. There are only great things in store for people like us, because it is people like us that have really learned compassion, love, grace, mercy, kindness, and forgiveness. It is people like us who truly know what it is to walk a mile in another man's shoes. It is people like us who truly bear the gift, the gift of life.

With this birthday I've been given a brand new slate. I started using, drinking and drugging, when I was thirteen. I used for twenty-three years. Today, I am ten years clean and sober. If you add the numbers you will see that there's a perfect balance now in terms of the number of years that I used and the number of years that I've been clean. Taking into account the years from birth, to the time that I first started using at the age of thirteen, combined with my ten years sobriety...this adds up to twenty-three. A totally clean slate, a brand new beginning: twenty-three years of using and twenty-three years clean- a perfect balance.

It's amazing how from death, one learns to live.

In his love and mine,

Godwin H. Barton



Gepi: He Was Truly Our Baby 


Baby Gepi's first night at home.            Opening his Christmas present.             On a weekend trip.


Again, this is a post from my old blog.  This is one of two children's manuscripts that I have completed and will make every effort to publish this year. The story, in its entirety, is absolutely magnificent.  At least thirty of my adult friends have read it and they absolutely love it.  I've also shared it with a couple of classes in the schools in which I work.  Again, the response has been overwhelming and feed back absolutely favorable.

To My Readership: This story initially had been presented in its entirety: however, as it has been echoing very, very strongly in my heart and spirit, I feel I have to remove it. What you see here are excerpts. The direction I am receiving is to send the original story to publishers in the hopes of being published. For those of you who were able to read the story in its completeness, thank you for your loyalty and very positive, and empathetic feedback. The message impedes upon me tremendously, I must send this story to be published. Again, thank you.  The story begins...

Mother's Day, 2002, ushered in a beautiful litter of kittens. "Oh my, look at that one!" Vilma said excitedly as the tiny kitten scurried away from the others. "Grab him and put him back with the rest." For a few seconds he stayed put and then ran off again to forge and explore his brand new world. "Look, he just won't stay still. He's so active." We laughed delightfully, as the black, little, ball of fur stumbled and crawled over his siblings to get away. His small, white paws clawing as fast as they could, accompanied by his very sweet, new born, baby meows. "He has black lips and a pink nose," I observed, cheerfully. Smiling, as the kitten now made his way into the living room, Vilma said, "That's the one I want! I want that one!" Light-heartedly I said, "But he's so hyper. Look! Now he's trying to climb up the side of the couch!" This was one decision that was not going to change. On June 27th, 2002, the baby kitten was on his way to his new home...

...Gepi grew very quickly. Our freshly bought Christmas tree stood in the middle of the living room floor, drying. I walked in from the bedroom as Vilma was in the kitchen. Laughing, I exclaimed, "Look at Gepi!" There he was, half way up the tree, totally sprawled out- two paws stretching to the north and two to the south: flatly. We laughed, as it was such a funny sight. Helplessly Gepi meowed as he looked desperately toward us. I couldn't help but tease him, "What's up eh! Need a hand? Just hanging around are ya!" We treasured the moment some more before we took him down. Excitedly, he ran just as if nothing had happened. "How are we going to keep Gepi from the tree once its decorated?" I asked Vilma. She replied, "We'll figure it out. He's a smart cat and will learn quickly not to touch the tree."

.....One night, we heard cries of such desperation coming from the back door; meows so loud, and filled with hints of agony. Vilma and I looked desperately toward each other and shouted, "Gepi!" We ran to the back door and opened it. Our hearts broke. Gepi came stumbling in- beaten, battered, and torn. His entire body was dripping wet and muddy. Lacerations and cuts covered much of his body, especially his head area...




And Was Becoming My Heart Beat 



It's been awhile since I've visited my site- to write.  Life as of late has been very, very great. Except for the sometimes loneliness- driven for the want of a relationship- I find myself in a very good place.  I am quite content and though I most times walk around with a smile on my face and an aura of peace around me- what you don't see is my heart that sometimes staggers in beat  because of the tremendous longing, and desire for companionship- for love.

Over the past six and a half years there have been the "might have beens, could have beens...and the ones that got away," or more accurately, the ones that I walked away from after sometimes the "most incredible connections."  Connections which had me sitting on my couch, lying in my bed, walking, living- as if the other person was already a part of  me- like she was inside of me and was becoming my heart beat.  She would invade me without a moments notice and captivate the entirety of my being and as powerful as it was, I had to believe in those very moments, she too, was thinking deeply about me, missing me as much as I was missing her.  These connections were so strong and driven by such intense emotion- such an incredible longing and a perfect, fiery passion that in those moments she became my world and every image of my heart, mind, spirit and soul was about her.  I heard her voice, I heard her laughter, I rehearsed every conversation that we had- searching for clues.  Clues that would tell me concretely that this was not just an imagination and that it was real.  Clues that would give me the courage to share the true contents of my heart with her- every energy, every emotion, every dream, every passion, every desire- to take that ultimate chance that too many of us have walked away from- to become vulnerable.  These connections were sometimes so powerful that they would make my heart sink, literally, due to the certainty yet the uncertainty.  Many times it was so overwhelming that I would be moved to tears, literally- cry, softly-almost whisperingly- as I would resort to my greatest source, hope, and strength: God.  I would first ask him, "What's going on? Can you help me? Can you help me to sort this out, please?" Through my sometimes tear stained pleas I would continue, "Father, I've let too many go by- I've walked away from too many and let too many walk away. I can't take it anymore. It hurts too much.  Can you help me please? Show me what to do."  The tears would reside. The prayer would end, and I would be still sitting alone on my couch: thinking of her.  Sadly, even after the connection had come and gone. Had I blown it? Was I supposed to do things differently? Should I have struck while the iron was hot?  Did I listen too intently to the words of the wise: "Good things come to those who wait?"

Sometimes I couldn't help it.  It's in the look and it's in the eyes: when we were together and then parted.  It's in the way she said, "Bye! See you later," in a soft whisper and a gentle song...as if she knew that if she sang it- almost magically it would cast a spell on me and bring me back to her.  It was the extended glance that came with it and a slight reluctance to turn away. It's in the way we sometimes hugged and how her hands would slide off of me slowly and the final touch would be the gentle touch of our fingers holding on for every last possible second.  It's in the way that, as we parted, we would turn again to each other just to get one more glance; one more look- one more smile and one more wave.  Then the days would pass...

Living again in the connection.  Rehearsing and living every last moment. Where do we go from here? Hearing her voice, her gentle whisper and seeing that amazing smile that only you could bring out in her.  The phone rings, and you pray for all eternity it is her...




They Were Fierce and They Were Powerful. 




This is an entry from my old blog, which I totally feel that I must re-post.



This is a dream I had the night going into Mother's Day, Sunday, May 9th., 2010.

My brother Hubert (Pops! Short for Popsie- a nickname given to him in his youth) and myself were in a very green, grassy area. The place was surrounded by huge mountains. Pops was laying on his back looking toward the clear blue sky as the sun shone brightly. I was sitting cross-legged next to him. The sky suddenly became dark with a fierce darkness: a darkness so deep, so black, so thick, it was unlike anything that we had ever seen. It wasn't a scary darkness, it emanated in immeasurable strength, power, and glory. Suddenly, there was the sound of thunderous winds, as that created by many mighty wings. The sky grew even darker. As this was happening there was a faint light that encircled my brother and myself. One of our sisters was sitting near by, watching, about eight feet away as this miraculous scene unfolded.

Pops and I looked to the sky. In awe we stared. Flying by the hundreds, even hundreds of thousands, were eagles so huge, vast, and powerful. Their sere numbers caused the sky to darken even more. Against the darkness we could see the silhouetted shapes of these gigantic beings. The length and shape of their wings- impressive, moving with precision, exactness, and presence. Their feathers- some jagged and ruffled, were those proudly worn and told a story of warriorship and victory in battle: they were warring eagles. They were conquerors and undefeatable. They were majestic, and they came from every where.

A huge ball as the shape of the moon appeared. Silhouetted against the light of this object was the upper part of an eagle as it would appear perched on a branch of a tree. Its head was turned to the right. It was distinctive, also powerful, with a beak perfectly defined accentuated in strength, power, and might. Its eyes- piercing and bold. Another eagle flew past, thunderous, glorious, and mighty, and as it did the ball erupted into an explosion of light. The explosion was as a thousand lightning bolts put together that shot blindingly through the darkened sky. As quickly as it appeared, it subsided.

Pops and I sat in great reverence before this scene that unfolded before us. Instinctively, I raised my hands to the sky in adoration and respect- as one does when honoring the Father: King of Kings and Lord of Lords. I began to chant, repeating the phrase over and over again: "Eagle. Come to me. Eagle. Come to me."

I had within me a great expectation. Forming out of the darkness, and coming from directly above me, falling toward me, were two beautiful eagle feathers. They were large and black. Excitedly I exclaimed to Pops, "Oh my God. Look!" The feathers drifted lightly into my hand. Pops and I wondered in amazement. The feathers were over-lapping. I parted them with my thumb against my fingers. There, in the middle, was the most beautiful, pure, white eagle feather that we had ever seen. Perfectly shaped and as white as snow. I looked at Pops and said again with reverence and respect, softly, almost whispering, "Oh my God." Facing Pops, who was now sitting cross-legged as I was, I asked, "Do you want it?" He said yes. I gave to him the white eagle feather. My dream ended.

My dearest brother, Great things are in store for us...and it has "GOD" written all over it!

As I reflect further on this dream, this is what I feel, as I sent further thoughts to my nephew regarding his dad, my brother, Pops:

I love and miss you guys so much! I feel very strongly in my spirit that great things are in store for our family...especially your dad. This dream tells me that as God really begins to do his work in our lives (your dad's and mine), that the heavens- the realms of the supernatural and spiritual, will all be in our favor. As the feather was pure, perfect, and white...so it is to be within our spirits in this place to which God is taking us. Take care and be blessed! Share this also with your dad. Love you!


Poster: Ten Eagles by Gardner. www.people.jmu.edy