Blue Moon

My most recent super moon tinted with a touch of blue, to match my mood, and the mood of many of us who grieve over oh so many things…

What troubling stories fill our news, and what great suffering is happening at the hands of radical militant factions in Iraq and the Middle East, Ukraine, Afghanistan and Nigeria.

I keep thinking of Psalm 120:6-7 "Too long have I had my dwelling among those who hate peace. I am for peace, but when I speak, they are for war."

It appears that things as powerfully disordered as our current worldly threats may not be changed except through prayer and fasting.

The moon shines silently above us as a beacon in the night, and in our darkness, we surely need a light to guide our way.

Photo taken August 10, 2014.

Good-bye, My Brother

We awoke to frost on the fields on September 14, 2013, and a chilly 34 degrees (that's Fahrenheit), which was a bit of a shock after temps topping the 90s just a few days earlier.

My brother had passed away the afternoon before, on September 13. It was a rather sudden death and the reality of it was only beginning to sink in, so life was moving in slow motion for me on the following morning, despite the fact that I rose early. The world seemed changed in many ways, and yet remained so constant and sure.

On that morning, I peered into the slowly rising mist that obscured the distant landscapes, and I thought I may have just caught a glimmer of him there, peering back at me. Such a thin veil separates us. 

The low light of the early rising sun turned the dewy field grasses at my feet into shimmery chandeliers. There was no breeze.  A lone sand crane flew overhead and disappeared into the distant sky. I stood in that quiet space and just stared… those small lights at my feet, reminding me that His word is a lamp to my feet, a light to be trusted. 

And then surprisingly quickly, the mist rose up and was gone, and it was just blue skies.

We, all of us, cope and grieve in various ways. That morning, and those fields spoke to me. I am so blessed to live where the play of weather in nature can speak, and I can hear so many lessons there, and find comfort in that quiet space. I take photos to remind me of the very goodness that surrounds me. My God lovingly speaks to me in language I understand.  He uses so many ways to reveal Himself to me...  not always the same ways, but always the same loving God.

This morning, on September 14, 2013, He was speaking clearly and my grieving heart was comforted just a little. 

We live, we love, we pass on. Our Faith sustains us.

May it be well with you today.

September 11, 2011. Ten years later...

Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of the terrorist attack on the United States. Those living in New York City, those working in Washington D.C. and those traveling by air that day were vulnerable in ways which the world had never conceived. The nation watched in horror as civilians signaled for help but couldn't be saved in time, and died in an inferno before our eyes. We ached with the all of the country as we witnessed the first responders bravely enter the Twin Towers in an attempt to help those trapped inside, and then saw that they would never come out again. We can hear their voices in radio transmissions, their last words recorded. We saw images of our nation's capitol under attack before we understood exactly what was happening. And we learned of the heroic actions of a plane full of travelers who banded together to stop what would have been a second attack on Washington D.C. if they had not sacrificed themselves to prevent it.

We struggled to wrap our minds around the evil that had conceived of this blatant act of terror. And I'm not only referring to Osama Bin Laden, but to the very real evil that inspired the idea and recruited willing accomplices to carry it out. Osama Bin Laden was a tool. Sadly, he was a tool of evil and a perpetrator of lies, but he was a player in a much larger theater than even he knew.

We all must take care that we not become so full of zeal that we miss the very heart of the God we claim to serve. It is a danger, particularly in this age, when zealots are aplenty. The thing about zealots is that they are so self-righteous that this trait alone gives them away. None of us should be that sure of ourselves before God. It is humility that is the hallmark of God's true followers. They possess a humility not without conviction, but humility that recognizes their personal limitations and the greatness of the One who Is. They can be found in many religions. It is a shame that so many, who perhaps are or were well meaning, are led astray by lies, promises and empty reassurances. It is not the proud who will inherit the earth. It is not the self-righteous who will earn God's favor. It is in humility and dependence on God alone, and trusting in His providence, His justice, His will. We do not force God's hand.

So yesterday morning, on the tenth anniversary of 9/11, our hearts were turned to remembering those who died. All of them.

This was my view outside yesterday morning, September 11, 2011. No editing. Calm and quiet. Somber. A fog hung over the sky, obscuring the view. Ten years ago we were shocked and horrified, saddened and confused. It's like it was yesterday, at times. The years have provided us time and perspective and yet we still try to understand and learn something from this tragedy. We remember and honor those who died. May there be peace in our world, peace in our hearts.



Today, September 12, 2011, provided a new view. This is the same tree that I photographed yesterday in the fog, yet this is a more hopeful image. In time, the fog of our grief lifts; it rises and we see that the sun still shines in the sky, illuminating our view. Be patient with yourselves and with others. Pray that our vision may be clear.



And still, later this afternoon, this was the view out our back window. A full rainbow across the sky. A promise, written by His own hand.

The Cellist of Sarajevo, Vedran Smailovic

This image was taken during the war in 1992 in Sarajevo in the partially destroyed National Library. The cello player is local musician Vedran Smailović, who often came to play for free at different funerals during the siege despite the fact that funerals were often targetted by Serb forces. (Mikhail Evstafiev)

In 1991 a terrible war broke out in Bosnia and Herzegovina. The stories of strife and the images that came to us in the nightly news and news magazines captured my imagination and tore at my heart.

Of the many troubling images, one stands out to me still. It was of a man, a musician, a cellist, who in his own outrage and grief, began playing his music in the streets and destruction of Sarajevo.

Please forgive me for even trying to speak of this time, because I do not understand the history of the troubles that led to the terrible war in Bosnia, Croatia, and Herzegovina in the 1990s. I tried to understand and the most I can really grasp is that there were boundary issues, and differences between the cultures that had previously lived together peacefully. The atrocities that followed were something I found horrific, and incomprehensible. Neighbors against neighbors in some instances. And unnecessary cruelty. It left a profound impression on me for many reasons. The same is true for other areas of the war torn world. I will never understand man's inhumanity to man. Greed and self interest do not seem enough to account for the hatred and meanness that wars bring about. However, the image below was something I could understand. I have lost loved ones. I understand grief and loss. Somehow the gesture of playing cello, doing the small thing that one can, to retain a sense of humanity, has left an indelible impression on me of the largeness of the human spirit.

The image below is not mine. It was published in Time Magazine around 1991. I ripped the picture from my copy of Time Magazine back then, and kept it to remind me to pray for those who are living surrounded by grief, and to remind me that there is value in doing whatever we can to elevate the human condition. I have made a significant effort to locate the original and to give credit to the photographer. My best guess is that it was taken by Roger M. Richards.

http://www.lifepositive.com/Mind/Positive_Chronicles/The_cellist_of_Sarajevo.asp

Vedran Smailovic

(click on image for a larger view)





A short movie by Roger M. Richards.

Missing You

I miss you. I don't understand myself sometimes, and I think that you would. You might be able to shed light on why I feel sad, why I feel lonely. There is a hole where you once were, where I felt known. Who knew it would still be there 33 years later? But here it is. At times I feel so needy, which isn't like me because I really am quite independent. But I always come back to you, to needing you. And then I feel badly that I didn't have more time, and that I didn't know what it must have been like for you. Now I can understand a little better, but then?... then I was still full of my own thoughts and while I thought I understood, I probably didn't understand at all. I'm sorry that I wasn't more help to you. I'm sorry that I was so wrapped up in my own life and friends and that I probably didn't say the things you wanted to hear from me at the time. I know I wish I could talk to you now. I wish I could hear you speak to me, and I wonder what you would say. I really wish I could have known what you think of me. I guess it's a good thing that I paid attention to how you did things. I probably didn't know why you did them, but at least I know some of the things you thought were important to do. Can you send me a little "hello" from somewhere, if you get a chance? Could you pop me a little post card to let me know that you're ok? That I'm ok?

It's cold outside, and dark because it's December. I miss you in December. You did a good job of making December a great time of year. I don't do nearly as well as you at making things special. In fact, I sometimes find it hard to move at all at this time of year. You'd think that because you set a good example for me, I'd be able to throw myself into this time of year with zeal. It's harder than you might think. But I don't want to make excuses. I don't know if a bowl of pine cones on the mantle would make my kids feel any better, but somehow it made me feel good when I was young.

Well, I have work to do here. But I miss you and really wish I could have talked to you today. I wonder sometimes if you ever felt like this. I suspect you must have, but you seemed to do ok.

Remember how I used to like to take pictures when I was young and dad would take my film to the store to be developed?? Well, I take pictures, now, too. These digital cameras are great! Anyway, this is a picture of an icy Queen Anne's Lace bloom. There's a field behind our home and I took this on a really cold day last winter. It sort of captures how I feel today. Maybe you know what I mean.

Thinking of you...