simple thanks

two years ago, when I was in the hospital, there was a moment in my life when I actually thanked God for urine. blood came out first, then a painful squirt. 

it is a wonderful thing to have a working kidney… 

over the course of the past five years, I have spoken with people who have gone through incredible hardships. Although I have been through some trials…I have never found myself living in an 8 x 8 shed, or sleeping in a camper down by the river. I have never lost an arm, nor a leg, fighting in a senseless war. And although I have endured heartless women, I have never come home to find my wife in bed with my best friend.

but I have met people who have.

I have been protected from so much that I do not even know about.

I know this because of those close encounters with tragedy that I do know I was saved from…like when the guy who blacked out on the other side of the highway flew across the meridian, side-swiping our front fender….or the time I was attacked by a huge horde of yellowjackets when they invaded the backpack I was wearing, while I was climbing in the Cranberry Wilderness, several miles from the road, yet somehow only one bugger stung me…or the time I was hit in the back of the head with a big chunk of concrete thrown at me by some kid, and my head was completely soaked in blood, but the doctors at the hospital did not even have to give me stitches…

how much more has God protected me. how can I not be thankful?

has God protected you?

how can you not be thankful?

 

 

 

 

Questions for the seeker

if you never take the time to walk in the woods…

...to step out of what man has built…

and experience what God created for you to enjoy…

will you understand His heart…His peace…His gentle love?

you were fearfully and wonderfully made…

a precious individual created to be a reflection of our Father.

will you die to self  so that you can rise up to be the beautiful one He created?

 

Coming Home

when nature presents herself, naked and unafraid, in the cool winds of a lingering winter…the quiet in the woods sinks down into the very dust, and i am left with more wondering than wandering to do. she is brazen, but somewhat sleepy. she has not heard the call to awaken fully, and so it is with a tender shoot under pecan-dust smelling leaves that i find her heartbeat, and sit near that heart on a log overlooking a deep ravine.

she waits for her Master…her small streams trickling with the energy of a hibernating bear. she sounds…tentative…her bird alarms more croaking than frightening, her branches scratching each other so quietly, one could doze off in a deep sleep and wake hours later. 

but as i rest against a tree…the sun rays beat dreamily on open trail and i feel an upwind warmth invade the vale. the baked cool ground is warming, and i must be off, for spring is calling…calling me home.

 

 

a hike back into history

if you are like so many people in North America, you are tired of the bitter cold. So- I decided to take you back to a short hike I did one day into the woods near a historic late 1800’s/early 1900’s oil field area. 

This is a photo journey…

It was a beautiful sunny day, but chilly. As I hiked deeper into the woodland, more rock outcropping revealed ice…

...and shelter for small animals…

…and trails crossing small streams, as shadows formed in the wood….

and up hills…

...the trail  bringing me to history hidden beneath the tree canopy…

remnants remaining of an oil field more than a hundred years old…

...for a pleasant hike back into the pages of history…

Peace in our time

As I walked along the trail today, vicious dogs threatened, ignorant rednecks stared, and a host of people invaded my search for peace…on a trail supposedly maintained by the state government. 

Which brings me to my premise: Do we, as human beings, not have a right to privacy in a place to relax in peace?

 

As peaceful as a picture may seem, it does not tell the whole story…for, not far from this scene, a yapping creature came bounding across the divide and onto the trail to challenge me…

 

…not far from this spot actually. Perhaps the owners of the dog failed to understand the rights of the trail user. Or, perhaps, it is because so many of these “rail trails” do not have good containment areas in suburban or built up areas…

In those places, it is much better to see this…

…a fence erected by the adjacent landowners…

 

Nevertheless, this is a problem in particular areas where residents do not have the respect necessary to ensure a safe, pleasant trail environment. It is unfortunate that hikers like me have to drive miles to other sections in order to have a wee bit of peace and quiet…

 

but…I am really thinking more of others- families with children, boy or girl scouts and clubs, cyclists out for a pleasant ride, and even those on horseback…all threatened by an ignorant anti-trail climate perpetuated by ignorant people. Like Jesse DuPlantis says, I believe I have met some people with “the spirit of stupid.”

Along about ten miles of the start of this trail, in one of the safest places in the USA, it is not safe to travel alone- by bike, hike, or horseback- a trail over 70 miles long. It is time to take back the trail, to ensure peace in our time. If you live near one of these recreation greenways, do your part- gather in groups when you go, and press forward, re-enforcing your rights to travel on public property….

 

 

 

the multitudinal blessings of moving…yet again!

i swear she smells like the essence of Pomeranian, but the long white hair suggests Samoyed…should I endanger my life by using a half-liter box of Island Mist Carpet Odor Eliminator, or should I go with the Biscuit Tin/Pringles Can-sized Daisy’s Dog-Odor Eliminator and an afterthought misting of Nicaraguan Nights Air Freshener?

And what of the black mold upstairs? What of the Jolly Roger’s fingers lingering along the wooden window frame, threatening to invade my poor, stooped figure, hiding these over-stressed little lungs?!

And…and…what about the pock-marked drywall, chiseled with nails, like white cheddar gone bad?!! Will the new landlord even remember the blatant woodpecker-shaped design?!!! Will she function at all when she finds out that…a mouse died- without last rites- in the motor housing of the refrigerator, never to show his face again???

I tell you, if I had a nickel for every time I thought about moving out -already….leaving this blessed bungalow for another poor sucker escaping the shacks down by the river…I would be a rich man indeed, dancing on my own roof…never drinking from cartons of stinky fluid- that, embraced by the gift of the eternal-smelling rodent!!! Saint Rodney we’d call him, for he has imparted the traditionally needed three miracles: everlasting smell, everlasting encasement, and the pungency to produce strange spiritual pilgrimages to the restroom…

…but…a spiritual giant, a man for all seasons (he forgot his coat), a man smoking more cigarettes in ten minutes than a normal man can ingest Reece’s Cups/Mars Bars/Bailey’s Chocolates (and yes, they are manly!) in the same time….appeared…like the Buddha on a piece of burnt toast…and…he came, he saw, and he removed…

…and now I am living happily ever after…well, not quite.

I am sore from moving thousands of plastic containers, lugged one at a time…up icy, snow-covered steps, over a Mountain pass…over a couple of misplaced stone steps…and through a badger-hole, into a circa 1980’s “blast into the past.”

I am befuddled over the utilities…and whether or not the waste company is actually burning more than just trash a mile down the road at the Le Grand Incinerator and Landfill.

and I am suffering from address syndrome…

Uh, do you remember what the address is? Again, what did you say?

ah, the trials and triumphs of moving yet again…they build character, cause us to ponder and reflect, and allow us to empathize with the landless poor of the Middle Ages…

but at least, I have a place to call home…for now.

Covering the dull-gray gravel beneath

autumn’s colors are falling fast, like little letters on the ground, messages forgotten…and I am trodding through the plunder…dull gray of gravel hidden beneath my boots, under leaf and twig.

i learned long ago that memories of pain process this way- when we have forgiven the pain-giver…it takes the changing of the leaves and their falling, ever so gracefully, to cover those steps, and remember the trail without pain.

on this one i sat at intervals, simple slab-like wooden n’s, to catch the air and breathe more deeply. they were not built for me, as i dangled swinging legs far from the ground.

it is not difficult to believe the path was made for another…but i found myself stepping heavily there, and made it back home again…

What the Word says

Count it all joy, my brethryn, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. (James 1)

“Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of Me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” (Matthew 5, 11, 12)

The Word does not lie.

Interlude

Still some darkness in this tunnel…I can’t see the end in sight, but there seems to be some high water to wade through…a messy thing. I hope to see you on the other side.

Seeing the other side

When you are in the tunnel, wondering when and how you’ll get out into the light is such a focus, you may trip over rough places inside the tunnel. Inside is where your will is tested, where the cold impersonal walls block your view of the pleasant everyone else seems to be enjoying…because you are going through a trial, and you are the only one who can hear the sound of the your rapid heartbeat, and the echoing of your pain.

But you are not alone. Not because the walls mock you. Not because the reverb questions your decisions, but because you do not hear, nor see what the invisible world sees. And it is there that the full picture, both the inside and outside, reveals that even in the tunnel is light.

I want to see the other side…and walk into the sunlight.