History in the Flower Patch

   LILIES Flourish in the Garden at Woodlane.

   And each time, Carolyn and I take a stroll to survey that plant paradise, I get a lesson in History. Not the kind of lesson taught in school and recorded in textbooks, but a personal flower story.

   "This plant or cutting was given to me by ...... way back in the 80s", and the pedigree comes out as we admire the color and shape of the flower. 

   Let me illustrate with a real life example (above). "This day lily tuber was passed along to me (Carolyn) by Jean Thigpen, but I believe she got it from Carolyn Floyd. It is called Midnight Magic."

   One day a man who worked for a neighbor, Portries, appeared at the front door with a clump of bulbs, and planted them for me in the garden. These are not days lilies, but the blooms last for several days. The flowers are named Wine and Roses.

   "Nadine is a close friend, and she brought me these from her Mother's yard."

   "Another neighbor, Denver Scott, a hybridizer of day lilies, gave me these tubers, left over from his work."

   "These were my purchases at Day Lily shows years ago"

   A cousin of Carolyn's sent her these from Missouri. They were a present in gratitude for the help she had received when coming to Chattanooga to do some geanologicai research on the McClure family from the Ringgold area. George McClure was Carolyn's Great Grandfather on her mother's side.

   These are called Rain Lilies, and they are planted around the birdbath, where the birds splash water from the concrete bath on the plants every time they bathe.

   These are not just flowers to "pretty up" the yard, there are stories associated with each. They are remembrances from friends and family, and they mean something. 

   There are plenty more plantings scattered around the house and yard, all with a story for another day.

   It is a great spot to call home.

Leave That Bathrobe on the Hook

   Why do we do the things we do?

      Is it Habit Only?

      Is out of of a Principle?

   Why do we quit doing some things and never go back?

   What calls us to return to some things that we used to do?

   Why is that bathrobe hanging on a hook in my bathroom?

   Let's us return to the first part of March 2020. A virus, Covid 19, was beginning to sweep through our country, and indeed, the world.

   Governments, beginning with the U.S. Government and going down to the State of Tennessee, to the County and the City, knowing there was no cure for the virus when it attacked, nor any vaccine that would ward it off, decided on Social distancing, masks, and eliminating group contact.

   All the "normal" things that occupied our lives changed.

   The rut we had been traveling swerved in a new direction.

   We did not choose what to do, now we were told what way we should live.

   Could it be that this change would not be all bad?

   We could, and should, think about why we did those things. Was it for reasons of inertia, or we have always done this, or we don't want to change?

   Back in the early days of March, governments began trying to slow the virus down, rules, regulations and guidelines were proposed and enacted to keep the pandemic from spreading.

   Not only did these disrupt and close down Monday through Friday, they closed the doors of Saturday and Sunday.

   Church, like ours and yours, could not meet together in person.

   We got "virtual church".

   Worshipping together had a new meaning. Watching the same streaming church service. became the way "to do" church. So, in our own living room, in our recliners, perhaps still in pjs and robes, we watched church leaders do their thing with no one close by. Not just one church, Brainerd Baptist, but all churches.

   Participating in a service meant singing along with the music minister or praise team, bowing our heads as someone lead the morning prayer, or even standing, alone or in a family, as the Bible was read. We listened as the pastor read from his text, in our own Bibles or on the screen of the TV.

   Now we are about to participate in a combination of the personal and the virtual. There are decisions to be made even on our part, as to what we should do.

   I drove by the church campus this morning. Buildings and parking lots looked the same as they had for the last 3 months or so.

   Empty!

   This coming Sunday, June 7, 2020, the scene will change again:

 

   No longer will be the church spire just house the room where the virtual service originated, but be an active symbol of God's Love.

   The church will open its doors to invite people inside to be together.

   Serving, Fellowshipping, Worshipping..

   Singing, Praying, Reading and Listening..

   True, there is still a concern that some folks should not come back this soon. Many are still "at risk" in this medical crisis. Even with all the precautions that will be taken, there is no guarantee that the virus may not slip in.

   Several times over the past months I have pondered about going back to church. Why is church so much a feature of my past life. I know I have had periods where I did not want to go for some reason or another, but why the desire to be there when the doors open Sunday.

   There are many reasons to go to church, and, true, I know some folks who don't go and don't seem to think about God at all, but a church, no matter how grand or how plain, is still God's house.

   I am glad that technology has advanced to the point where the virtual service can be a reality, and I'm glad that we have been able to worship that way each week but,

   When these doors open 3 days from now, I am glad we can slip inside and listen for God's voice in a service of worship.

   We are a blessed people.

   Amen

(And the bathrobe, still on that hook waiting for my return...)


 

 

 


 

Walking on a Sunday

   Chattanooga has been active over the past few years in establishing walking trails (and bikes) around the Tennessee River area. There is the Riverwalk which begins at Chickamauga Dam, runs to downtown then south to the St. Elmo area at the foot of Lookout Mountain.

   There is also a Greenway trail that runs north from the River toward Hixson on the North Chickamauga Creek.

   Then there is the South Chickamauga Creek Greenway, which, when finished, will run from the Riverwalk near the river, all the way to Camp Jordan in East Ridge. Carolyn and I have walked part of this trail previously, but yesterday, on a sunny Sunday, after a virtual church service, we took the section running east toward the Airport. This section goes about 2 miles until it reaches the still-under-construction part.

   The trailhead for this section is located at the old Sterchi Farm, just south of the Creek close to Highway 58 in East Chattanooga. Dairy cattle roamed these fields in days past, and the creamery was just to the east on Highway 58.

   Standing tall at the trailhead is an old silo, constructed of cobblestones, picked up from the fields around the area. 

   Right off the trail, heading east, the developers have constructed a small park. It is a sort of "challenge" area for kids, and others, consisting of large tree trunks, like you would use to cross a small stream or washout. The whole park is comprised of items from the surrounding area, like rocks from the fields and streams and the aforementioned logs.

   Then the trail begins to rise as it clings to the side of a hill working its way toward the Highway 58 bridge across the Creek, crossing under the bridge and over the Creek, taking its travelers to the north side. 

   The trail is mostly deserted, maybe 10 people walking in the 4 miles we hiked, plus 6 or 8 cyclists. It is a hidden gem meandering along the Creek, seemingly unknown by the inhabitants of the area. We were glad to find it.

   From Highway 58 we walked along the stream in an eastwardly direction, crossing under another railroad bridge, before we came to the end of the completed section, and retraced our steps to the Sterchi Farm.

   Walking and Cycling were not the only ways to enjoy this area. We saw canoeists on the water, and some kayakers. One couple looked to be enjoying lunch in their boats at a shady spot across the Creek.

   For two octogenarians, it was a great place to be out of doors. There were new flowers to ponder, history to consider, and just great scenery.

   Although we say we walked or hiked this trail, it was more like a stroll with our 25 minutes per mile pace, just about right to work up a Sunday lunch appetite.

   After all, 4 miles is not a bad morning stroll for old legs.

   The trail is a jewel, God's handiwork is awesome, and doing this together makes the experience worth celebrating.