An Amazing Blessing

   A couple of weeks before we embarked on our Maine trip, I made the executive decision to line up a two night stay at a B&B up in middle Connecticut. Going strictly from a website, I booked this for us to have a brief interlude from the constant travel of the past week and the upcoming week as well. Just a rest stop.

   The Mount Pleasant Inn in Torrington, CT was ready for us when we arrived on last Tuesday.

   Our chairs were waiting for us also.

   Even the bricks in the sidewalk, these coming from a demolished farm building, were calling our name.

   The Innkeepers met us upon arrival and told us about the place and its history. The inn was in a 1760 farmhouse, which had been remodeled. Its four rooms were all upstairs.

   Bob, the innkeeper was concerned about Mayre's ability to climb the stairs to the second floor. He had told me on the phone that it was a short staircase, but did not mention the steepness. After looking at it, we agreed that it might not be the best option.

   But wait a minute, he had another idea. There was a new home up the road, one that he had built for a NYC man who came only a couple of times a month. Would we like to see the bedroom up there that we could use. It was on the second floor also, but had a chair lift which would alleviate that problem.

   But what a house! and what a view from our private balcony. We could see all the way to downtown Torrington from the top of our hill. And best of all, he would just charge us the rate on the room in the inn. A deal too good to pass up.

   The view was superb:

Sunrise from our deck

 Downtown Torrington after a thunder storm

   What could have been a bad situation, with maybe a cancelled reservation or looking for another place to stay for a couple of nights, turned out to be, as our kids might say "awesome".

   And, lest I forget, that shower during the thunderstorm, a huge shower with a picture window view of everything.

   An Amazing Turn of Events

   We were Blessed again.

 

Off the Main Highway, In Maine

   While talking with my eldest son, Dwayne, he mentioned a place he and Karen went to run the other day. His comment was that it looked like a good photographic spot that maybe I should take at look at. So here is my trip there.

   Just a few miles out Route 24 from Brunswick, an island sits at the base of a narrow strip of land. Bailey Island, the terminus of Route 24, gave us these views:

Lobster boat ready to go out

Unique bridge, the only one of its type, anywhere. Built on granite blocks, laid on their sides, with spaces between to let the swift running tides through without bothering the bridge. Bridge built in 1928 withstands saltwater and ice floes.

The Island Church built 1885

Even the dandelions were glorious

The main Island harbor, the majority of the lobster boats were already out to sea, working their traps.

A kayakers paradise

Working lobster houses, not just for show

This fellow is not going out today, or anytime soon

Traps in the harbor, waiting

We went out pretty early, and it was a good thing. By afternoon the rains came.

It was one of those picture perfect days, and we were blessed to be there.

Traveling An Unplanned Route

   Traveling along CT34 the other day, we saw some racing eights on the river beside us. Next we saw the Yale University Boathouse on our bank. We did not stop, but a couple of blocks down this street in Derby, I thought "I should have gotten some shots of the crews in action.

   So, we made the first left, so as to circle a block and go back.

   As we made up a hill on a street that looked like a part of downtown Derby, I happened to glance up a side street and saw a patch of green. Thinking "village green" and "interesting pictures", I turned right at the next corner and came up on the center of Derby, a city founded in 1642.

   Here is what we found on that town square:

The Congregational Church on the west side, 335 years in existence

A Catholic Church on the East side

A Methodist Church on the North

with this plaque

Sterling Opera House at the SW corner, built in 1889

Some older homes around the square

Civil War Statue in the middle

   We have seen a lot of Civil War monuments all over Georgia on courthouse squares, but this one was different:

      Another name for the same war: War of the Rebellion

      In the South a lot of times it was: War of Northern Aggression

   Around the base of this particular monument, the battles this unit fought in, including Atlanta.

   This town, and in particular its center square, reeked with history, it almost oozed up from the soil. Derby had been in existence as an indian trading post since 1642, was constituted a town a year before the Declaration of Independence. 

   We spent an hour or so immersing ourselves in history. A history that we could see and feel. A history that we almost missed.

   All because we turned around to see some racing crews on the river, which did not seem so important as what we had experienced on that village green.

   What crews?, what boathouse?

The Joys of an Unplanned Exit

   There comes  a time when words are not smart. There is no way to know what the next few minutes will bring, and the best thing is to keep quiet and see how it plays out.

   Case in point: yesterday as we traveled up the Interstate, one of us needed a restroom, so we began watching for a likely exit. My wife said to get off at the next one, an exit that did not look promising to me at all. After exiting and turning right, only to find nothing, we went back under the Interstate and found a dubious convenience store attached to a family restaurant. As I waited for my bride to come out, and kinda looked forward to the "bad" restroom comment, I looked to the south and noticed a large, well kept, area with a funeral procession turning into the gates.

   Looking north I noticed a sign with the name Indiantown Gap on it. That name rang a bell. I believed that it was one of the primary places in the US where the government processed refugees from Vietnam after that Asian war ended in 1975. Did this fact and the funeral have anything in common?

   In short, NO, but it cause me to turn in that same gate as we went south to get back on the freeway. The sign on the gate: Indiantown Gap National Cemetery. I wondered out loud as to why the government would put a National Cemetery way out here in the boonies? The only ones I knew were in urban areas, like the one in Chattanooga.

   Regardless, the area was so well kept, green with American flags lining the drive into the burial areas, that we kept right on going. It seemed there were no veterans buried there. The placed looked empty. We later learned on walking some pathways that all the marker were flush with the ground. No rows of crosses like those in Chattanooga, or Normandy either for that matter, but there were over 40,000 service men and women, some with spouses, that were interred in that Pennsylvania cemetery.

   But back to the unplanned experience that we were about to have. We could have never planned it. We did not know this place existed.

   As we walked some of the grounds, I spotted a large bird landing on the ground across the road from our car. As I moved toward it, camera in hand, he (or she) flew off on to the top of one of the flag poles lines the roadway. I took a quick shot, from that distance. It might be my only chance, and I could always blow it up on the computer to see what I had. Then the bird flew away.

   We talked about the treat it was to see a large bird like that so close. As I walked with my camera toward a small building, I looked up and there it was again, on top of the roof, and then it flew. I followed its direction and there it was on the ground. As I took a couple more, it flew toward me, landing on a flagpole once again.

   Then down in the brush, poking for something.

   Then off down the road.

   As we loaded back up in the car, I told Mayre that I thought I might stop in the office at the top of the hill and find out about that bird. From its color I thought it might be a golden eagle.

   Stepping into the welcome area, I asked the man behind the desk about the cemetery and then told him about our bird watching. He explained to me all about the cemetery, why it was there, how many folks were buried there, and more questions that I thought to ask while I had his undivided attention.

   What a treat. My mood had taken a rapid turn from frustration to pleasure as those morning events happened one after the other.

   As I mentally wiped the egg off my face, I realized that I was so in the wrong with my attitude about the restroom stop. It had turned into a most unexpected pleasure.

   The beautiful spot…

   The taloned predator…

   The information session with the man in the office…

   You just never know what is there at that exit you don't want to take.

 

 

Miscellaneous Ramblings

   A few scenes from yesterday:

These would go well with a bow tie

They did not have color in 1840

Nuff said

Relaxation Awaits

A good day for whatever…we had one..Blessed

Security Can Take Flight...

   It was 40 years ago, in 1975, that the US abandoned South Vietnam to the North. I remember the events, sort of, but was reminded of the times through a PBS special a few days back. I confess that, at the time, I did not pay it a great deal of thought. We had lived through the War in Vietnam through the 60s and early 70s, with all of its turmoil at home and overseas, and I suspect that I just wanted it behind me, so I could focus on family, home and job. At least the nightly news would not be full of that war.

   After the US forces left South Vietnam after the cease fire, the North invaded and swept down the country until the only safe area was around the capital city of Saigon, and that area was shrinking fast. Citizens fled the oncoming tide and came to the capital, where the Americans still had a presence. Many of those who fled south ahead of the advancing armies, had ties to the US forces and government and would face an uncertain future with the communists in charge.

   Two images stand out in my mind from the TV documentary:

      1. US personnel finding ways to get civilians out of the country without, and sometimes contrary, to orders from higher ups in the chain of command. This as the situation continued to disintegrate.

      2. The scramble at the US Embassy in the last few hours before all the American persons left. The lines of men and women and families, hoping and praying for a spot on one of the copters that might get them to safety.

   These civilians had trusted in the US Government. That government was their security, and, as some watched at the end, that security was flying away.

   While the world gave a sigh of relief, that peace, however defined, had come to that war-torn area, I imagine there were those still in Saigon, that were flooded with doubt about their future under the new rulers, and, possibly a lot of anger toward their former trusted friends.

   Each one of us looks for some type of security. Money, position, government, friends or whatever, but the only true hope is in God, who has it all under His control.

   We could all look up into the sky one day and see that copter with all our security, flying off into the dusk.

   Then where would we be?

Happy Mother's Day (early)

   Some random thoughts about mothers:

   1. There are lots of them. Every person who has ever lived has had a mother. I look over on my chair and see an open atlas. It has been opened to a page with a state map. On that page are the locations of many cities, towns and smaller places where people live. That state, and the world, is filled with mothers, the vast majority of whom I know nothing at all about.

   2. I know some mothers, some intimately, some better than others, some just in passing, and some not at all. The shaping of my thoughts on mothers is rendered mostly by the ones that I know.

   3. Mothers are singled out by God for honor. Consider the 5th of the Ten commandments.

“Honor your father and your mother, that you may live a long time in the land the Lordyour God is giving to you."

   The question begs: How do we do this honoring? Is it by flowers, by cards, by phone calls on a special day, by any of the other acts that are prompted by society or the advertising world.

   It can be by any or all of the above, but there seems to me to be one very important way, a way that does not seem so special, but touches to the very heart of the one being honored. It is how we live our lives on a daily basis, what kind of person we are when we are alone and no one is watching.

   There are 5 mothers that I know something more than just a little about.

      1. My mother, but I can't get into her mind to know all of her thoughts.

      2. My wife, the mother of our 3 kids, whom I live with and know better than any other.

      3, 4, and 5. The mothers of our 7 grandchildren, one our daughter, and 2 our daughters-in-law. I don't see them on a daily basis and can't know all of their struggles and thoughts. But I can see some of the results of their concerns and prayers.

   I honor all of these that I know, but I give special recognition to the one who does not want any. A lady that worries, prays, works, and is rightly concerned for those that fall under her care.

   God knows the paths she has walked in the past, and continues even today. She walks in the light of His love, even though she does not look for any recognition.

   Happy Mother's Day

Color and Song in the Morning

   Back a few years, I was tasked with the job of making up a scavenger hunt (sorta) where the object was to see different things and record them on a sheet and see how many of the items a person could find in a certain amount of time.

   This was to take place in an area of a park, so I scouted and marked a trail for them to follow through a small patch of woods, beginning and ending in a parking lot near the picnic area.

   I made my list as I walked the trail, but needed one final object that might separate the winner from the rest. As I neared the end of my loop trail, I caught a glimpse of a "redbird", actually a Northern Cardinal sitting in a bush. What were the chances of one of these birds being on that trail when my group came through in a few days? Not much, I decided, and put him down for my final item.

   On the day of the picnic, I turned these folks loose on the trail. Staying near the end of the course, I waited to see who might actually see one of these red birds and win the game.

   As they came in and turned in their sheets, I was amazed to find that they all had see a redbird, and it was duly checked off on everyone's paper. How could that be, I had only seen one in the whole time I was out there the other day?

   Then one of the group pointed out that the Cardinal was on the Virginia license plate of many of the cars in the parking area.

   So much for my hard thing to find.

   Most every morning, as I go out to walk, these birds are everywhere, and their songs fill the air. If I can't see them, I hear them. Even before sunup, when the light is just beginning, I see them and can distinguish that bright red color.

   Watching a pair this morning, a bright red male and a somewhat more subdued brownish and red female, a wondered about their lifestyle and habits, so I looked them up when I got back to the condo.

   My question was "do they mate for life, like some other winged fowls?"

   The answer on one website:

"There seems to be some evidence that Cardinals do indeed spend the entire year with the same partner. But saying that they mate for life gives us the impression that they spend decades of bliss together until they retire to some Cardinal condo in Ft. Lauderedale. The fact is, a Cardinal life expectancy isn't much longer than a year. So the cute Cardinal couple that has been coming to your feeder for years is probably many diffrent birds."

   I never knew that.

   Nature is filled with things and creatures that God has made. Nice that we can enjoy their color and singing. What a wonderful world.

   In Genesis, Chapter 1:

"God said, “Let the water swarm with swarms of living creatures and let birds fly above the earth across the expanse of the sky.” God created the great sea creatures and every living and moving thing with which the water swarmed, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. God saw that it was good."

   And it Was

  

From Quiet to Challenge

   Yesterday I wrote a piece on Sunday Morning. You can read it here:

http://walkinganewpath-pilgrim.blogspot.com/2015/05/sunday-morning.html

   I talked about quiet and reverence and meant it all. Sometimes those are hard to find in the modern church, but they are, I think, a necessary ingredient.

   So, what happens as I sit in the service yesterday after having said all of that?

   The music was pretty loud, there was little quiet, and reverence could have been overlooked in all the commotion.

   But something happened anyway.

   Our pastor preached on James 1, specifically verses 19-25, and the focus was on verse 22.

"Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says."

   There is a time to be quiet, listen for God and be reverent in any church service, but there is also a time for a challenge to be in the world, doing what Jesus commanded, making our world a better place, filled with God's love and mercy.

   I may want to sit in the sanctuary after all the people have gone home and bask in the quiet reverence of a stilled room, but there is more, much more.

   The definition of the church is not the building, it is the people serving Jesus Christ out there, wherever "there" is.

   Perhaps I missed the quiet yesterday, but I was challenged, and I needed that, too.

Sunday Morning

   Hanging on our wall, way back when we lived in Apison, TN, was a print by a well known regional artist, Ben Hampton, entitled Sunday Morning.

   I thought of the painting this morning and began to wonder why I liked it so much.

   I believe, looking back on it, that the serenity of the scene was what drew me.

   Now it may be that the man driving that buggy was not as serene as I pictured him. Perhaps he had three little one and a wife in there with him and they had all struggled to get ready and out the door in time to make it to services that morning in the snow.

   But there was little traffic on the bridge, and the church would be warm and special.

   He could ride along, bundled up behind his faithful horse, an animal that knew the way. After all, every Sunday, he made the same trip.

   Six days this man did labor, each week, but Sunday was a special day. It was The Lord's Day, the time he looked forward to each week.

   A time to still his heart and mind and soul, a time to praise and sing, a time to listen for God's voice in the service or just in the quiet of a reverent spirit.

   It may not happen every Sunday, but it was always anticipated.

   He and his family would get there early. They could sit in the little church and be quiet. The outside sounds would be muffled by the snowfall.

   It was good.

   It was Sunday morning.

Family Trumps...

   Like a lot of the country, I have watched the video of the Baltimore mom pulling her son out of the mob scene that has characterized that city for the past few days.

   While not necessarily praising her methods and especially her bleeped out language, I do think that it sends a message that needs to be heard, probably by all of us.

   One blogger summed up his piece on this by stating:

"Just maybe there is more to the power of family than popular politics would like us to think.  It’s almost like we were designed for them.  :)"

   His whole blog is here:

https://mcolaw.wordpress.com/2015/04/29/why-the-baltimore-mom-is-a-big-deal/

   One thing that has gladdened our hearts over the years is the way that our kids and spouses have handled raising their children, and have done it together.

   Dwayne and Karen, with their two college kids, one about to graduate this month..

   Donna and Noel, with their two, one autistic and both brilliant..

   Doug and Dawn, with their three, and now two foster kids as well..

   There is much to be said for families that are active in the raising of the children that God has given them, not trusting that some other entity in "their village" takes that primary role.

   And I am glad that we have three great examples to point to.

   God has surely blessed them and us.

   God has given us families. It is our responsibility to make them as strong as we can, with His help.