Cathedral Rock Sedona, Az 2004

Welcome to Llulissat, Greenland

New Day

It was always hard to get up in the morning and I always found myself trying to sleep a few more minutes to put-off the things I had to do for the day. I was in the doldrums of life stomping thru the slush to find the peace in the pillow of my choice. Each day would drag by to no end, as the months and years would fly as I waited until the insanity of the whole thing would end.

Lately though, the mornings are a lot better and I seldom touch the snooze switch as I have already turned off the alarm before it rang. Some days the sun is bright, on the ceiling above me, and then there are the days which rain is drumming on the windows and the wind blowing hard against the walls. These forces have there purpose on this earth as do I. So with hardships, pains and misplaced plans in tow, I start my day with each step, no matter how slow, for the things I must accomplish are from an endless list that is not my own. The days are much longer and a month I have not seen, I have only eternity to complete a life time of work.

Donald Barr Born May 7, 1935 Died January 24, 2008

Just a writing exercise where you write from your heart for 15 minutes without looking. I wrote this after reading an obituary, on my cousin, who was a college professor at Cornell, teaching Human Ecology. Its sad to realize that you don't learn enough about the people you know.


Wandering

In the ways of the world, I have wandered the days awake, and I have stood. It has been dark the mornings, arose, without the sun, between my eyes. The softness felt beyond my memories are a drop, in the dew, of a melted frost, of an evening past of mine. Each step has been without the other and each again, the same, as I have tried to find the place I first started and have tripped over my own memories in finding them.

I can’t say the things that come to mind, for the clouds won’t leave their place beneath me. I so wish to drift asleep again until my thoughts are cleared from the brush of clutter that has grown from my past indecisions. It isn’t so often when a fire from beyond enables me to burn thru the haze and torch the bushes that have grown before my path of growth.

It is clear for me now, and so it will be, as each step takes its own weight, along the curves that form before me. It is far above the place I had expected. It is so soft and pure. So many are alike and know what course I have traveled. But they are friends that have hope for me and have wished for my success, since I was young. I settle in my heart, in this spot, as I am home

Inspired from above in a moment of reflection


Seeds of Faith


The weather where I live is very temperate due to the ocean being only four miles away. The wind that blows across the surface of the water mixes with the air that surrounds us and makes the people that live here happy, watching the weather channel, when snow has befallen the hopes of others. The inhabitants that have settled here are a diverse group, owning chicken farms, village shops, local grocery stores, hair salons and the corner hardware store. Others came bearing degrees and have hung shingles on their doors with the titles of Doctor, Dentist, Lawyer and Architect. There are also the newcomers, who built their mansions on the sand facing the wind and intermingle with us, as fair weather comes upon us. The rest of us, are the rut of the work force, and handle the majority of the day to day things, that make the town go round, so to say. I find it enjoyable and like it to an old settler’s town without the trading post, butter churns and mud laden streets.

Entertainment in our town can be as diverse as its people. Movies, restraints, bars and stores for shopping dot the main streets of our and the other cities that surround us. Many meet in groups at local taverns to drink and tell stories of the day or have parties at home to brag of their future wealth and stature with words that bubble from their mouths of champagne. There are others that have found a special place to meet where all the attendants are children no matter their age and talk not of yesterday or tomorrow’s dreams but only of what they know and feel today. I have been one of these blessed few.

We are all brothers and sisters and an occasional Pastor, sprinkled here and there, at our church. We meet to praise God, our Lord Jesus Christ and to lift Them up along with each other. It is a safe haven of life, like no other, with all eyes and arms raised in one direction. We, together, are an unyielding force of our Almighty God, bond together in friendship, unity, strength, love and direction.

Within this bond of friendship I have had the privilege to meet Earl and our sister Edith. They own a small business called Moments in Time, that produce products that have been sand blasted with inscriptions upon them. I think any material worthy of the process, no matter the size, would be fair game for Earl as there are few earth bound materials that can endure the force of a grain of sand.

Brother Earl and Sister Edith donated numerous small, pocket stones with a sand blasted, gold painted cross imprinted on it to their friends at the church. I thought it was a great gift as I removed the wrapper and placed in my pocket. I could rub it in the times I would become stressed or anxious to remind me of God’s presence in my life and carry me thru my hard periods.

I soon learned that God gifts are to be used according to his will and not what we decide to use them for. We left church and headed for the grocery store to pick up supplies for dinner. I was in the check out line with all the essentials waiting for the person in front of me to get checked out when my new stone decided to wander from me. I didn’t know the girl behind the cash register and I really loved my new stone but my hand took it from my pocket as I offered it as a present to her. I said, “It is what it looks like, but it is more”. That was even deep for me. I watched the girl for her reaction as she hesitated for a moment, said thank you and continued to bag my groceries. I walked away evaluating the whole experience and compared it to having a door shut in my face.

As I loaded the groceries in the car, my wife reminded me of an additional item on the list I had forgotten to purchase. Back I went into the place of the wicked one to pick up our loaf of bread. There wasn’t anyone in line as I approached the checkout. The same girl took my bread to check it out and said, “I pray to God that He gives me the patience tonight until I get home to my kids.” The door opens, water splashes you in the face, you drop to your knees, open your eyes and pray to our God that knows all.

I have placed many more stones in my pocket but none of them stay there very long. Not everyone reacts the same or as quickly. I have had people ask me what is the “more” of the stone, a week after I have given to them. I tell them that it is a seed that has been growing in them since they received it and I ask if they would like to learn what I mean. Although they are the easiest, I enjoy giving a stone to those with eyes glimmering with faith, because I know I have found a new brother or sister. There are some that their faces turn red with embarrassment as I hand it to them and I want to believe that it might have reminded them of their lack of faith or a recent sin they had committed. But I really can’t say, for who are we to question how our God chooses to use the stone within them. I just remember that, we shall plant the seed and it is God that will provide the increase.

I am flopping around from one thought to another. Never checking where the rest of my body is because my face is posted to this screen. This one was written after too much shredded wheat.

( This, for the dog lovers in us)

We are only Servants in the Castle

I was bestowed the responsibilities as steward, at a castle, found in these United States of America, in the great first state of Delaware, located in a small town called Briggsville, on a dead end street named Endless Road, placed in a setting surrounded by other castles of pleasant fortitude. This being my position for many seasons with my wife, Suzanne, of seventeen years and our daughter, in servitude training, Samantha, at the age of sixteen. We were the last of several servants left to keep the castle and grounds up until the next royal came to inhabit its chambers. We had many lonely cycles of the moon awaiting the next heir to the throne.

One evening a rider appeared at the gate bringing news of a young Prince being born in a distant land. We were asked to gather him from his keepers and to raise and teach him in the ways of royalty until such a time when he had matured to a stature to sit at the throne.

He was of a distinguished line of royalty having been sired by Braxton Hix Youngblood and dam by Curious Georgette of Misty Mountain. His security detail was all but killed or captured during a plot to overthrow the throne during his birth. He was hid among other children, being taken care of by a mysterious clan, named the Mennonites, which lived in the rolling hills of Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

We left immediately, under the cloak of darkness and arrived at the farm of Glendon Strite by midmorning. He was a man of poverties standing 5’2” tall. He wore tattered clothes beneath a heavy apron made of pieces of oxen hide that had been sewn together like a patchwork quilt. His scruff beard hung down below his plump belly and the floppy, dust covered hat he wore drooped over his intelligent blue eyes. Glendon inspected our credentials and hurried to a barn close by. He returned with the child, just freshly weaned, from his dry nurse, a week before.

The Prince was a handsome child, being fully furred, head to toe, with golden hair and floppy ears. His tongue hung out from the side of his mouth and he squirmed in excitement of our arrival. Glendon told us the Prince had not been given a name to keep him safe from harms way. We told him we would give the Prince a name, of a commoner, that would not be obvious to would be assassins.

The Prince was placed on the ground and allowed to stretch his legs and lighten his load for the long trip ahead. He had learned to move quite quickly across the ground on all fours, but the grace in his steps, was still misplaced, as he wobbled, fell and rolled without accord. My wife picked him up to brush the dirt off his boxy head and he lathered her with licks so furious to put out a fire. We thanked Glendon for his service, with two silver coins, and started our journey home.

On the trip home we decided to give the Prince a name. Our choices would have to remain within the names of the people of modest means and couldn’t sparkle from your mouth as it was spoken. I had recently befriended a man who had been shipwrecked on an island for several years. He told me that over the years on the island the loneliness grew unbearable to the point where he thought insanity was upon him. One day a round, soft, ball, used during a sport of that time, appeared on the beach. He painted a face on it and put grass from the island, within holes, in the top of it, for hair. His will had kept him sane and the Son of God had delivered this life saving companion to him. Hence fore, he called his friend Wilson.

The name Wilson seemed to be fitting for the Prince as it came out of great hardship and perseverance and it was a name from those of modest means. So it came to be that the first son of the mighty Sir Braxton Hix Youngblood, of the clan of Golden Retriever, on the 12th day of Grateful Blessing, in the month of full harvest, within the year one hundred score and three, from the great town of Lancaster, would be called Prince Wilson. It was then we realized the Prince had not lightened his load enough.

Come back for the future adventures of Prince Wilson. Coming soon.. Princess Grace enters Prince Wilsons life and the Court Jester Copper, gets his laughter back.