Pine Log in July

The music began with the crunching of slate and dirt under my shoes,
as I made my way down the access road that would lead me to my
constant and sympathetic friend,Pine Log.Pine Log's sympathy
means so much to me for it has been around so long,and has
seen so much.The stories it could tell! The pictures it could paint!


Pine Log in July is a mature Pine Log.The days of its infancy has past.
Its thinking has changed,it wears a new set of clothes.The tenderness
of spring has past.Left only,are etched memories of impatient green
and gold buds,luminous green leaves,angelic bluebells,and most
importantly,the palpable magic that hangs in the new air of spring.

I sat on the familiar bench overlooking a slow moving,elegant,in a
primal way,Pine Log. The most magnificent aerial concert came
floating out across the methodical waters.Warbles,tweets,and calls,
in different tones,different decibels,different ranges,all at once,yet
wonderfully synchronized,captivating,comforting.

A mature Pine Log,instead of lamenting what was to come,
was showing me how to observe and enjoy the moment.
I sat,consoled,soothed, renewed,on the banks of a mature
Pine Log,and I too, felt mature.

Going Away

Once again I hear something from a world 

so close,and yet,so far away,coaxing me 

to go,no,to come.

Once again the wall,the steeled wall ,begins

to give way,as the call permeates,and sweet 

relief breaches the barrier.

The wall breached,I am now soaring,redeemed,

deep,calling to deep,sweet communion,medicine

applied,only available in this place to which I have 

been called.

Once again,for a sweet soul cleansing,eternal

second;the necessary evils of life,lain aside.

Free,untethered,relieved,the invitation to "come

away" given,and I must go.

The lament of the bluebells

I knew what my destination would eventually be,as i set off on a quiet Sunday evening,in mid May.The air was nice and cool,a treat for this time of year,especially with the temperatures predicted to be in the nineties by late week.The grass was wet,so my shoes and pants were soon soaked,as I kept moving deliberately towards my destination on the south side of Pine Log.I knew full well what I was,or rather was not going to see, once I got there.Pine Log,though beautiful as always,seemed to have a bittersweet,poignant,feel to it.As one might have on the way to see a sick or dying friend.Soon I found myself at my intended location,and began scanning the banks of bluebell island for any sign of the uncommonly beautiful,awe inspiring plants that had center stage just a week or two ago.The only sign left was a few dead and or dying leaves,face down towards the ground they had sprang from.Though I knew full well what I was going to see,the shock was still painful.They were giving way to harsher,more aggressive plants.In my lament of their swift passing, I was reminded of a an observation of a man raised up to minister to the gentiles many years ago.He observed that "the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.My lament was somewhat softened by a promise made from an ancient Book many years ago.That one day even the desert itself would blossom like a rose.Reluctantly I leave bluebell island to suffer the fate passed on to it because of the edenic episode,heartened only by the fact that it would not always be this way.Setting my sights on home I began the walk along the banks of Pine Log.Stopping to peer over the bank ,I catch my reflection in it's mirrored waters.Once again I am caught off guard by what I see,and my lament is once again softened by the voice of the ancient book."Behold I make all things new."May your laments,which are unavoidable be softened,your pain eased by all of his unfailing promises.Lamenting,yet believing,from Pine Log.

What say ye Pine Log?

What say ye Pine Log?Of the glorious spring that has descended upon you,enveloped you,framed you as an artist frames his masterpiece.What say ye ancient,patient,faithful Pine LOG? Of the tangible,magical awe that has returned once again to comfort,thrill,reward you.Of the old friends who have returned to visit,spend time with you,console you,consort with you.Your pace seems more resolute now,your voice more eager,tinged with uncontrollable joy,mirth,unbridled.But what say ye Pine Log?Has the long cold winter been worth it?The long,cold,dark nights when not one star could be seen.You drifted along  faithfully,lonely,yet patient.Your visitors were few,the harsh conditions mandated it.Yet you kept moving,waiting,forgiving.The wait must have been forever,excruciating.I already know the answer,Pine Log,for I am you,and you are me,we have been interwoven into His tapestry,we share a common origin.What say ye Pine LOG? As the days slowly,subtly,slip away and the gallant trees clothing begins to show signs of an impending change.The days will once again grow shorter,colder,and will usher in once again,the time of testing.Southern whispers will give way to northern roars and the wait starts over again.What say ye Pine Log?Is it worth it?As you,Pine Log,I will observe the changes as they come and go.I will marvel,I will stand in awe,I will rejoice, I will weep.I will observe and be thankful for the treasure that comes with each one,and I will acknowledge that it has been worth it.What say ye?from Pine LOG.

The Acknowledgement

Against our will we are pushed,pulled,compelled to keep moving towards the great expanse.Responsibilities await,constantly before us,invoking us.Our fellow sojourners hold us in contempt if we dare slow them down for even a second.Keep moving,keep running,get out of my way.Time becomes a harsh taskmaster as we rationalize how to wring all we can out of precious seconds,moments,days,weeks,months,and finally years.All too soon the years begin  to show signs of diminishing.To offset the somberness of this inevitable process we must,must allow ourselves to be taken to a very special place where magical moments are extracted.Stand on an ancient mountainside and be captivated by the sea of white below you at the peak of the dogwoods glory.Drink from the well of a dew laden crab apple tree burgeoning with spring blooms,casting off an indescribable,refreshing,renewing fragrance .Be captivated by the spring concert going on above you,obviously in a new and different key than in January or February.Marvel at the grace and symmetry of the tree line silhouetted against the new,crisp,spring skyline.Absorb the primal feeling,surely akin to the one felt in the first man's glorious edenic spring.Respect and revere the power of what is going on all around you.Now,in that magical,extracted moment,make an honest,uncoerced acknowledgement to the one who said "Let there be light" to begin man's first spring long ago.The magic that will follow as the acknowledgement is reciprocated,is sustaining,life giving,eternal. Acknowledgement is faith,and faith is the only thing asked of us.The resulting magic  is something to be carried along with us to the end of the journey and beyond.Acknowledging and enjoying the peace and joy of a holy reciprocation on Pine Log.

The holy place

In the eternal second of a blazing sunrise,in the crisp early morning air,observed from the slopes of the ancient mountain.In the poignant,thoughtful,graceful sinking of the same sun that rose in a blaze of glory,just a second ago,setting on another day that cannot be retrieved,save by highlighted memories.In the ease and grace of an eagle gliding across the heavens,fearlessly,effortlessly,with a freedom one can only dream of.In the appearing of the bluebells in early april,responding to the call ,after enduring the icebox of winter,gracing the earth,comforting all who observe and revere.In the face of a newborn babe.The miracle of birth.The joy and the tragedy of birth.Another soul,another journey,a mysterious plan.In the up stretched arms of the weary soul,blue,yellow,from efforts to help,body betraying her,still reaching,still hoping,still believing.Grace in time of need.In the recalling of words,spoken many years ago,yet still giving comfort."I go to prepare a place for you."Prepared not with hammer and nail,but with the ultimate sacrifice.The place.The holy place.Where God is acknowledged.Where there is no doubt.Time is forgotten.Where God and man are reconciled.

The greeter

The  young boy walked up to the steps of the modest porch that was attached to a modest dwelling.He anticipated a greeting from the larger than life woman he called his grandmother.Instead,his greeting came from a modest container,purposely and perfectly placed,in the corner of the tiny porch,by the screen door.The fragrant greeting coming from the plants inside the container was something the young boy would remember and write about fifty years later.He would always wonder and marvel at the joy he got from that special greeting that day.He still recalls  her look of satisfaction as he commented on the greeting she had arranged for him."Those are my petunias," she said.Looking back he can can still remember a look that said,"now you know the secret." Take it with you and don,t out grow it.The young boy is fifty eight now.Every spring he is reminded of that special greeting,as he plants petunias for his daughter,all around the yard and porch.They are strategically placed,to be a greeter for her and those who would go through her door.Hopefully someday that will be of great comfort to her and that memory will take her to a special place.It has been for me.For I was once that young boy.Oh! The power of a memory!

When hope trumps misery

The heavy hand of misery was laid upon man many years ago,when he was driven out of the divine presence and his original position lost,and has had a firm grip ever since.Wars,famines,genocides,natural disasters,calamities............All these things heaped up on man,who is born dealing with the misery which is inherited by every one of us,our inevitable and impending mortality.To speak of how unfair it is,is to waste breath,for it produces no remedy.Every where,every day,on every corner,in low places,and high places,misery permeates and wears at the soul of man.The standard sent forth to answer misery is called hope.Hope is the great equalizer,always there,standing in the shadows,waiting to give comfort to the miserable.Hope can be seen in the impatient daffodil,who all winter,has endured everything the brutal winter has thrown at it.,only to rise,shine,and smile;and for a brief moment misery is trumped by sweet hope.Hope is seen in the sunrise of a new day,the sunset of a finished day.Hope trumps misery when your children look at you with love and respect instead of resentment and anger.When at fifty eight and fifty five two brothers are still able to race up the side of a formidable mountain,as was done many years ago, and for a brief,shining moment,misery is trumped.When the soft whisper of southern winds calls forth a new spring ,misery is trumped.When all of these things are observed,and the presence of the giver of life reveals himself through them,misery,truly,is trumped.Look for hope,embrace it,never let it go.It will be there escorting us,comforting us,encouraging us til it isn't needed anymore.Til that which hope has been sent for becomes a reality.Embracing hope on Pine Log.

THE GREATEST GIFT

The greatest gift on Pine Log:I sit on an old weathered log,at the edge of the green rolling field,and the edge of the gentle rolling Pine Log,my long suffering and comforting friend,and I marvel.The scene around me is the one I have saw in my mind,and longed for, forever.Spring finally prevails on Pine Log,and with it,a whole new look.The magic that goes with the changing of a season hangs in the air and settles down upon you,and for a moment,despite the beautiful truth reflected in your face,you feel young again.Pine Log has made it through another winter,and in doing so,has helped me to do the same.Its wounds are healing,its natural hotels are full,and it flows steady and resolutely.New artwork is arriving daily on Pine Log.Me,my brother,(and hiking buddy)and my daughter,were entertained and comforted,by a very large and very rare, garden of Virginia blue bells,greens and golds,which cannot be described,burst forth everywhere.Turtles sun bathe on logs,baby ducklings scatter and began to call their mother.Everywhere life is teeming,celebrating..............all aware that it will not last forever(although it will one day).And I am profoundly aware that this day is a gift from the Father.That all these treasures I am beholding are gifts from him.I am even more profoundly aware that the greatest gift is the Father himself.For without him and his presence,they wouldn't,no couldn't,be viewed as gifts.Gifts from whom?They are a reflection of him.It would be a travesty not to see that what happened at Calvary was for this very purpose.To make a way for us to come into his presence and be healed."By whom also we have access by faith into this grace"

Tribute to a kind and courageous heart

For as long as I could remember,as the years slowly sped by,I had only heard her name spoken with genuine,unspotted,unfeigned respect.Though we actually talked very little,from time to time I would see her,here and there,in the community,taking care of whatever the business of the day was.She had came up in a time when the living was not easy.To know the full extent of the horrors life had thrown her way would surely make one weep.And yet,at these times when I would have the opportunity to nod,speak,wave,or just exchange a glance,I was always amazed and comforted greatly by what I  saw in her face.Her smile and the sparkle in her eye showed no sign that she had experienced a more than fair share of sorrow.Looking back now I am even more amazed.I now know,more than then,that what I had saw in her was a reflection of a kind and courageous heart.I saw her again today.This time I was able to extend a hand and offer a warm hug.Tomorrow they would be burying her youngest child.We glanced toward him,in unison,lying in silent state,and when our eyes met,I was amazed to see what I had saw every other time down through the years.No pity,no anger,no frustration.Only kindness and courage.She was eighty five now;but she held on to my hand for a few seconds,and I felt as if I was the one being comforted,and was.I left feeling very humbled,and will never forget that frail hand squeezing mine,and was thankful for the blessing that came with it.The blessing of a kind and courageous heart.

Tucked Away

I am thankful for every day I am allowed to have on Pine Log.Some are better than others,some are harder than others,some are darker than others.Some you want to forget,some you go back and analyze to see what you might have done different;so,that at least,a lesson might be salvaged.Some you are willing to forget,others you pray that you'll be able to remember.Then there are certain ones that you "tuck" away,at the ready,retrievable at any time,at the right time,at the ready,when you need it most.I reach and get just such a one often times in days such as we have had these past few days.These trying days,these faith challenging days.These days when the sprint has turned into a trudge.These days when wistfulness is the permeating influence,and comfort is hard to find.On such a day,I reach,I reach into that secret place and gratefully retrieve another kind of day on beloved Pine Log.On this day my feet feel stronger as I arise and place them on the floor.The fire is built quickly and easily for those who will be seeking its comfort through the day.My legs and spirit still feel strong as I set my attention to horseshoe ridge and beyond.My spirit is lifted as I walk in the cool,but pleasant,morning air,filled with the winter song of faith filled feathered marvels.I am prompted to speak to them and all I know to say is"keep on singing my friends,keep on singing." I am not surprised when I hear something within me say, "what else can they do?" What else can they do but what they were created to do? Neither am I surprised,though greatly comforted when I am keenly aware that that is all I can do.I am on a journey that I cannot stop.I have know choice but to continue on this journey that I had no control over at the start,and I will have little control over as it begins to wind down.So I will do as I have been instructed to do on this good day on Pine Log.When I felt strong on Pine Log because of the presence of the one I see reflected in and through a place I have been privileged to visit and rejoice in "the flame." Hoping you keep some tucked away for when you need them most fro Pine Log.............................

Pine Log sunset

I scaled horseshoe ridge,a little slower,a little bit more gingerly,than usual.The late January sunset was in perfect pose,brilliant,made even more brilliant by the clear,pristine,first month cool air.The clouds along the ridge,which it was sinking behind,were transformed into luminous silvers,oranges,gold,purple.Knowing the answer,I wondered if I had made the most of the day,this Pine Log sunset was bringing to an end.I could not stop it,could not slow it,and soon it was sinking out of sight.As it did I could see it's parting effort reflected on the stark,stoic submissive trees,and was greatly moved by the scene.If there was an acknowledgement,it was not visible.It was just a reminder to them that one day a southern whisper would come and the results would be glorious,a new day,a new time.For today,stoicism wins,with an expectation of another sunrise.As I also stoically,turn to leave I am reminded of the lines to a beautiful old song,sang by departed loved ones many years ago,"there's a bright and sunny side of life," "there's a dark and stormy side too." Help me Lord to be patient and allow the dark and stormy days to cause me to appreciate the bright and sunny ones.Soon,these dark,sober days will pass and we will rejoice in the renewing.Until then we wait,like the trees,for the next sunrise.For another chance.

A song in winter

They sit on naked limbs and branches,scouring the barren landscape for a morsel of food,becoming more scarce everyday.And yet,they sing.The bitter cold north wind blows their soft downy garb in every direction,giving them a disheveled look.And yet,they sing! Their eyes,squinted to stave off as much of the cold wind as possible,reflect a hint of bewilderment and apprehension.And yet,they sing! Through rain,ice,snow,danger of predators,and everything that winter can throw at them;they sing.Their song is not forced or coerced,but robust,genuine,and even more comforting and reassuring because of the rugged conditions under which it is being performed.It is simply what they were created to do.Perhaps,in some way that we cannot comprehend,they are aware of the words of a lowly galilean,who promised that "not one sparrow falls from the heavens without the father knowing." So,armed with faith alone,they sing.I stop,dead in my tracks,marvel at the sound,at the faith,and receive my lesson.The father is telling me to listen and learn,and so I listen,and so I learn.I learn from a pure source.For they are teaching me without motive,without an expected reciprocation of money or praise.Help me father,like them,to have a song,even in the cruel winter that lies ahead.Help me to hear the words of the lowly galilean,"even the very hairs of your head are numbered." Give unto me that I might have and express "a song in winter."