In the Heart of the Thicket-A Bucket List Moment

Mark another one off my Bucket List. The forest floor below the towering pines offers a padding or bed, if you will, of pine needles so thick that even in thirty degree weather, one will not feel the cold that has firmly gripped the ground. It's a reminder of the days of childhood long since faded off into the mist of adulthood oblivion. Today was that day. 

How dreamy the moment is to lie on this bed of pine needles. The minute my head sank into their cushiony depths, the scent of pine wafted up and became an aroma that not only could put one almost to sleep but teased the nostrils with the tantalizing scent of nature at its purest. A pine thicket has a smell all its own. And oh the sounds one will hear here, as the trees blow gently in the wind, allowing the trunks to sing their own melody. Nature's violin. I've always loved to stop to listen as the trees cross trunks and branches to make their own stanza to the bow and the break of the breeze. This is a dreamy place. To lie on one's back and look up through the swaying canopy of green, the blue of the sky transforms into an image of topaz mixing with emeralds! Maybe I'm a hair on the dramatic side but this is the way my mind sees nature in all her glory.  

I lay there and just tried to absorb it all. It's a place in time, I would like to stop still and just stay there. Stay there and hide from all worries and all care. There's a magical quality to the dimness of the thicket, especially when you look beyond the towering trunks to the outer edges. The hues of color seem to come alive and wake the senses! 

The soul is not the only thing that will find shelter in such a place. If you sit quietly, and long enough, you will see others who find solace in the shelter of the pine thicket. Deer are in abundance here. Some resting, some munching on a patch of grass here and there and some simply meandering about with their fellow deermates. In the trees one can hear the call of the red-bellied woodpeckers. Shortly one will begin to hear the persistent sound of beak on wood as the red-belly searches out her lunch.

It's in the magic of the thicket that you will see the wonder of nature and so much that she has to offer. If you're quiet enough and wait long enough, the rewards of visiting here are simply too much for words. I invite you, find a thicket and let time slow down to a crawl. You might just come out of here feeling like you have a new lease on life.

Fifty Years and More

The following is Taylor's final speech for her speech class. There is no doubt the love and the respect my girl has for her Mimi and Papa has no limits. This is just a glimpse into the heritage these two have sewn into their family.
                     
  Today we are celebrating a bond that two very special people have held together for fifty years. These special people are my grandparents. These two people have been inspirational to many people’s lives. They have been outstanding examples of people who know what it means to live and what it means to love.

 

            I have looked up to these two people my entire life. They have shown me as well as many others what it means to love one another. During their marriage they have continually treated each other with utmost respect and loyalty. These are the ingredients to a successful marriage. Every marriage has its downtimes, then is when we see just how strong a bond between two people is. They have proven that their bond cannot be broken, it can withstand anything. They have stood beside each other through thick and thin. They have shown us that sometimes it is better to fix something when it is broken rather than throwing it away. They have maintained a happy and healthy marriage by doing so.

They have also shown how to love others besides themselves. Anyone who knows them will find that they will do absolutely anything to lend a helping hand. They are the first to show up and the last to leave. They are the type of people who would give the shirt right off of their backs to someone without a second thought. They have been examples of what it means to be selfless.

            Spiritually they continue to grow daily in their beliefs and have made it the rock of their marriage. They stand firm on what they believe and have not let anyone ever stray them. They live solely by what they believe and have proven to me as well as many others that it is not as complicated as it seems. I have full respect for their beliefs for the simple reason that they do not push their beliefs on anyone. They do not need to, what they believe is conveyed within their day to day actions. Anyone that is around them for even a short time will see it.

            My grandparents have always inspired me to become more than I already am. They have always worked hard and fully earned what they have been given. They are always grateful and carry themselves with dignity. They have been perfect examples of what a gentlemen and a lady should be, from how they talk to how they walk, sit, and stand.

            In my honest opinion, I believe these people have lived the most close to perfect lives possible. I look at them as if they hold all of the wisdom in the world. They are true inspiration. How they have lived and carried themselves is why they are who and where they are today. This is for all of their years they have spent together and to the more that will come. 

                                                                                                                                        

Hannah's Dream

This video contains the session we captured with Hannah a few days ago. Hannah loves, did I say Hannah LOVES Keith Urban? This session is one I will remember until the end of my days. What a special angel Hannah is. Thank you to Hannah's parents Mike and Gail for bringing her to her session and helping so much. A huge thank you to Hannah Serritt for bringing her horse, Lucy and items to decorate the set. Also, thank you to Martin Real Estate for the use of their lot and Lavender Mountain Hardware for the hay bales to complete her set. This was a very special session that took a lot of things coming together to create HANNAH'S DREAM!

Thanksgiving Of The Soul

In the dark stands a row of bicycles chained to iron railing. Water drops from the rain pelting down, run rivets across the frames and onto the ground.  Men, women and children, file into the chapel to hear a Thanksgiving message. Here, the décor is clean, pleasant and simple. Inviting.  In this chapel, you hope enough folks file in so that you won’t even have a seat.  

Here, in this chapel, you won’t sit down next to someone and wonder "What is the brand of that tantalizing cologne?" Here, your nostrils will come alive to the scent of humanity.  Folks are vocal and voices of “Amen!” can be heard. The rafters ring with “I’ll Fly Away” and the solemnity of “Amazing Grace My Chains are Gone” drifts into the city streets. In this chapel, a soul finds rest and receives a message of hope, simply stated, and presented with such clarity it will stop you in your tracks. Here, in this chapel, I feel sure my Father walks the isles with a kind smile, knowing, someone has gathered His sheep.

At night’s end, folks shuffle out, into the rain and return whence they came. Some leave on foot, and some leave on bike. The rain continues to pelt. The cold and the wet you can feel to the bone. But, there’s warmth here, that outdoes the cold. They don't leave the same. They came hungry and they came cold. Here, nourishment is offered for body and for soul.

He said to him the third time, “Shim‛on, son of Yonah, do you love Me?” Kĕpha was sad because He said to him the third time, “Do you love Me?” And he said to Him, “Master, You know all, You know that I love You.” יהושע said to him, “Feed My sheep.-John 21:17

"Frederick is My Name"

Three men.  The common thread shared among them is blatantly obvious.  Ten feet and the distance is closing. It's too easy to just nod and walk on, averting our eyes from the heartbreak of humanity. That man with the plastic bag of groceries? That's all he's got. Sometimes, just talking to people, people who have a story to tell will leave you feeling like your very soul has been ripped open. People are lost. People are searching. People are hurting.

Nineteen years old. Daddy- already dead. Nineteen years old. Mama-dead, gone.  A young man stands alone, too old for the system, yet too young to have a foot hold in life. Too young and no one to show him how to rise above the hand of cards life has dealt him; the circumstances born in. The cycle begins:  Alcohol, drugs, homelessness. LOST. The next thirty four years will bring little change. He extends his hand, a hand worn by age and hard, hard living. Rough, rough skin. A face withered from living life in the outdoors breaks into a toothless grin. The stench of alcohol escapes with his greeting of “Hello ma’am”. I raise my eyes to his. I try to peer beyond his sunglasses. I know why he wears them.  My soul literally feels broken into a million pieces as this “Black Sheep” as he calls himself, shares bits and pieces of his story. “Frederick” he says. Not Freddy, that’s the other guy…not Fred…”Frederick”.  That’s the name he makes sure I know. The name he wants brought before my Father.  The name he repeatedly says “Always, remember Frederick in your prayers ma’am.” This man, who seems so much older than his fifty three years, wants to make sure “Frederick” will be lifted up, not forgotten.

 “Frederick”, sir, [Black Sheep]  sir, my Father, MY FATHER searches out the lost sheep, that ONE sheep who isn’t safe in the fold. Are you a believer Frederick? Do you know the Father?”  He says he does. He folds his hands to represent prayer , looks up and points up with his hands still folded and talks about “God”.  He knows who his Creator is. Still, Frederick wants to be on someone’s prayer list.  “Every day pray for Frederick. Say my name.” The prayer list grows, to include Frederick, Freddy and the third man too.

I fought tears walking back to my car. I don’t fight them while remembering this man and his friends.  I let them fall. They solidify that the hurt of humanity is raw. I hope it doesn' heal. I don’t want to forget…

Th

 Luke 15:1-7 Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him.And the Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying, This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. And he spake this parable unto them, saying, What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.

Like a tree planted by the waters. I shall not be moved; revelations of an early morning walk by the water with my Father.

In the quiet of the early morning, there was a still mist settled over the water. Catfish were mudding for food on the waters edge leaving their wispy mud trails for the current to carry off, the frogs were jumping, the birds were beginning to sing, and I could hear the occasional blip of fish breaking the water's surface. It was peaceful; restoration for a troubled and tired soul. I needed His wisdom. I needed a refreshing in His word.  Some profound explanations to situations I’m struggling with began to surface.

My eyes settled on the river. (Yes, I label the [creek] behind our house more as a river.)  That body of water has cut its way through 2 counties for centuries.  Its course has never altered, never changed.  Its been held in place by the creation of rock formations that protrude in the water from veins that reach deep into the banks, by trees that are rooted on the water’s edge, and by the grasses that mesh the earthen barrier into a mass of root, rock and dirt. The water by design, MUST have the limitations that the protective barrier of her banks provide. Otherwise the river would become a chaotic, destructive force, damaging the land and homes that live on her borders.  Between the banks of the river, even where things are the way nature intended, there are dangers.  In places the rocks are so slick you can’t get a firm foothold and busting it can happen too easily. In places the water is so swift the current wants to jerk your feet right out from under you and in other places, poisonous snakes lurk. You can’t do away with the dangers, you just have to be aware of where they are, and veer away from them. There’s a place downstream from us that has a particular rock formation that when going through it, inevitably you will lodge your foot between the rocks, cutting skin if you’re lucky, breaking bone if you’re not. You'd never see the danger, it hides beneath the bubbling current, I only know from experience, to go around that spot; to take another path. Danger lurks there…beware.

It’s the same with life itself. The similarities of what works for the river apply to life. Just as the river must have a barrier to remain a productive body of water, so do our lives and our children’s lives. Even within the protective boundaries and by this  I mean scriptural (faith-based) boundaries, there are still pitfalls and places where we stumble and dangers lurk.  I was noticing in particular the trees and how they firmly hold the bank. Those trees have been there, many of them since before my time. Some I’m sure were there before my parents graced the earth. One in particular would have to be labeled a grandfather tree as its years of holding her banks are probably off the charts.

Their job has never and will never change. Their roots run deep and give the earth beneath them facing the force of the water, stability.  Let the water rise, let the flood come, yet the bank will hold and keep the river on it's course once the waters recede.This led me to thinking about heritage, faith, and my own family. The role the trees play along the water’s edge is never changing, no matter the season. They remain firmly planted, and as the old die out and crash into the water, they still remain an active part of the ecosystem in which they lived, providing shelter and haven within their branches to those who live in the current that flows through them.  Just as my grandparents and their grandparents sowed a heritage of faith into their children, it remains our job (mine & Keith’s) as parents to instill that faith, and set the boundaries of appropriate behavior, faith, etc. in our children. Sometimes "The way it's always been done" is the way it should still be done. It doesn’t matter what society says, nor does it matter that sometimes kids nowadays get it in their heads to think their parents don’t have the right…the truth is…limits are good for all of us. Left to our own devices, without them, we destroy ourselves and those around us.  I’ve been battling this for a while now. I feel like I've wavered in my ability to speak up. If I turn a blind eye, I do believe I will be held accountable. It doesn’t mean I will stand over my kids with an iron rule yelling “Do this” or “Do that”, making decisions for them, but I was reminded this morning, that not standing up and saying “No” or "We need to talk about this" to dangerous (behaviors or situations)  will result in lives that are out of control, chaotic and destructive not only to self but to anyone around.  It’s for my own good that my parents still, even though I’m forty-four will offer spiritually sound counsel if they believe in their hearts that I need it or my children need it. That doesn't mean we do every thing that is suggested...but we  give their thoughts a LOT of consideration and have learned that they have seen more and been through more than we have, and they hold a fountain of wisdom from walking before us. I hope they never cower in fear of speaking up and standing up to me about what’s right and what’s on their heart.  If they hurt my feelings…I assure you, the pride will subside and I will get over it. The same will go for my children. If I see them branching into an area of un-control, into an area that is dangerous, participating in behavior that will lead to their destruction or destruction of family and friends, it is my responsibility to speak up, and I will do it because I love them. I’m sure they will still go beyond the banks of safety, and damage may ensue just as the river overflows her banks in times of flood. We’re all guilty of that, every single one of us,  but in those times, let the water recede quickly and return to the pace and the current, within the confines of the peaceful, soul restoring banks of rest.

The verse I walked away from my morning with Him was this…

Psalm 23:4

Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.

Yes, I will walk through the low places where the shadow of death (sin) lurks, but I won’t be fearfull because His rod (His authority and instruction from His Word) and His staff (His support; His power where I am weak) will comfort me (give rest to my worries.)

You've NOT done it unto Me...

I’m not sure if my lunch lost its flavor when my Father stopped me dead in my tracks or if it was happenstance. It was one of those moments when I realized with certainty I had failed. I had failed my Father, myself and the woman I watched walking down the aisle to the buffet.

I know her. Her smile is one like an angel’s, her eyes like pools of chocolate. The prettiest eyes a human could wish for. See, I went to school for twelve years with her. This particular girl, I will call her Ruth (not her name) was in special ed. Most didn’t seem to befriend her although there may have been people who did. I spoke in passing but I never got to know her. You know, there’s that hierarchal social ladder that is forever in place in school. I hate that ladder, by the way….

Anyone who knows me knows I was always the kid for the underdog and if you were smart you didn’t and still won’t make fun of anyone in my presence that has any kind of disability or oddity about them. I didn’t and don't really care if it's the poor kid being picked on or the kid who was ostracized because no one liked the sound of his laugh or the kid who smelled really bad because he was neglected by parents; make fun…and I can become as mad as a hornet in a flash. I have a heart for people who don’t fit in and sometimes that lands me in trouble.

Forward to the present…The minute I saw her, something stirred in me. There was that little voice that resonates in the quietest of ways… “She’s one of mine. What did you do for her? Why didn’t you be her friend?” The questions hammered against my heart like a beater on a bass drum. I had no answers. Questions kept flooding my mind. “Did she realize we didn’t include her? Did she notice that she was snubbed? Was she lonely? Why did I not be a REAL friend to her?” I felt utterly and completely ashamed. It’s these moments that make me wish the clock could be reversed and have a do-over dial. I have the feeling, me being her friend probably wouldn’t have been any where near as rich of an encounter as having HER be MY friend. Truth is, she may have been perfectly happy and contented, and that still would not excuse my failure to befriend her.

I followed her to the food bar, spoke to her, reminded her of where I knew her from, and told her I wish I had taken the time to know her better in school; very little in comparison to what should have been… There’s much more to this woman than I saw walking the halls of the school. Honestly, I hope the feelings of guilt stay with me for a long time…reminding me, every person counts. Every person deserves to be given a chance to belong.

I’ll look more closely at the people I meet. I don’t want to stand guilty again knowing “When you’ve NOT done it unto the least of these you’ve NOT done it unto Me” -Yahushua.