The Mysterious Soldier...Who Is It?

   For some reason, although I see this picture every day, the scene at the top of this blog is for me a picture of my life and my ramblings. A familiar path toward the ocean, located not many miles from our home, one I have walked many times, but when you get to the beach, there is no telling what you might find.

   I take paths like this, mental paths that lead me from one place to another, many times without a purposeful end, just rambling into "I wonder why", or "how did that happen?", or "how does this relate to anything?".

   Most times when I write, I want to leave a nugget or a haunting question for anyone who happens by and reads, something that God has shown from His Word, or from a picture, or something else that I have read. But sometimes it is just rabbit trails, beginning from some thought and then letting it meander out onto the beach to spend some time thinking and wondering, percolating if you will, in the sun.

   I think about people and their lives. People that live in my world, or folks who have lived in the past, ones that I know their names and something about them, and others whose lives are hidden from my view, and the only thing that I see is an old snapshot, and I wonder.

   I wondered this morning about that lady that my daughter encountered in a Mexican restaurant the other day, the one I wrote about. I mulled the situation around in my mind again and hoped that they might meet again and share stories and lives in that Arkansas town.

   Then, as I looked back at a site that I had bookmarked yesterday, I read a story of a man's search for the answers to a story contained in an old photograph on a sign in Massachusetts. His site is full of items like that. Here, if you have time to wonder, and wander, with me:

http://www.morningsonmaplestreet.com/index.html

   I remembered an old picture that we have been moving from house to house over the past years. We cannot remember where it came from, whose it was before, who it portrays, when it was done, or any other of the details. We just have it sitting on our bookshelf.

   When I take a shot of it and zero in on the face, he looks like he belongs to us. I can see the profile of my own father's face in the shot, and I have to wonder, who is it?

   It is a metal picture, with just a few scraps of newsprint on the back, possibly an obituary posting, but not enough of it to identify anyone. He appears to be in a army uniform, possibly WWI or maybe Spanish American War vintage. But who is he? My dad was not in the army, so that projection is out.

   I suspect he is in training at a post in the south. Note the pine trees in the background.

   Chattanooga lies just north of the old army training grounds at Fort Oglethorpe, established by the army in 1902, where soldiers were inducted and processed during both WWI and WWII. Could that be a clue?

   Someone served, some family had this metal picture, some people cared. Lives were lived, events were cherished, joys and heartaches were there, they were important to someone, they had a story, a part in the tapestry of life. They left a legacy of some kind.

   I guess there is no purpose in my wanderings and wonderings. Maybe the pursuit of a retired mind, but interesting to me.

   And I still want to know: Who is he, and what was his life?

Under the Bridge

   Crossing the causeway from Brunswick to the Island the other day, I made a mental note to come back one afternoon and see what might be under the bridges on this road. My thoughts were, of course, on interesting things to photograph, and so, yesterday, we went, turning off the roadway and coming to a dead end right under one of the elevated portions that pass over the tidal rivers that separate the mainland from the Island.

   A view from under the first big bridge.

   What seemed to draw my attention was the underside of the structure, the part that no one sees as they travel back and forth.

   As I stood there listening to the sound of vehicles passing overhead, the clickty-clack sound of their tires running over the joints in the pavement, I wondered what those drivers and passengers were thinking. That was all a mystery, of course, but the one thing that I was pretty sure of was that they were not thinking of a person standing under them, taking pictures.

   How many times had I passed over these same bridges, giving no thought at all about what might lie underneath the road?

   How many times do I go blithely on my own path, giving no thought to anything beyond my own agenda?

   Indeed, I do not even think of what is beneath me as I drive over, those pylons that keep me out of the marsh and the river. They are unseen but vital to my traveling life.

   Unthought of, unseen, but yet so important. How much of life is that way?

   When I think of my blessings, so much of the time I focus on the material items that I can see and touch. How much more blessed am I by God with those that are unseen and unthought of?

   God, please open my eyes and heart to really see.

   Even under the bridges of life....

A Blank Space

   A thought from this morning's readings: The day in front of me, if I looked at it in terms of what appointments are already filled in at this early hour, would consist of a couple of items with a lot of blank space between and around. When I get to the end of the day, what will be the most important, the scheduled items or the things that happened in all of those blanks?

   Do I spend my hours just filling in the blank spaces with stuff, or do I look for divine appointments that could be much more important than the things already planned for?

   What does God have planned in this day?

   Those thoughts reminded me of a blog post, written by my daughter over in Arkansas the other day. What she writes about looked unscripted at that time, but the way it played out sure looked like one of those divine appointments. I'll let her tell the story:

http://uniontrueheart.blogspot.com/

   Reading that really affected me. A chance encounter? Sure did not seem that way to me or to her. It was almost as if an angel had appeared and heaven had touched earth at that moment in time.

   I've got a lot of blanks in my calendar for today, a lot of chances for me to recognize others that may come and go in my story line for this time. Can an angel visit, or do I have the chance to be that "angel" in someone else's life?

   At the end of this day, how will the blank spaces have been filled in?

Birds of Prey, and Us..

   As I read in Exodus 14 this morning, God looks after His own. Whether it be the Israelites confronted by the Egyptian army at the Red Sea, or even a sparrow falling to the ground in the normal everyday course of life.

   A friend sent me a URL to a website the other day, one that I kept in my favorites listing, and I noticed it on my computer this morning. I think its study and information fits right in with the thought of God's care for His.

http://www.georgiawildlife.com/BerryEagleCam

   The site shows the pictures from a web cam, a nest cam actually, showing the happenings in a bald eagle nest where an eaglet has hatched just a few days ago.

   As I watch and as I read of the life of the bald eagle, their nesting habits, their mating for life, and their care for their young eaglet, I cannot help but think of Scripture that tells of God's care for His creatures and His creation. In Psalm 50:

"I know every mountain bird by name;"

   The care that this eagle pair give to the young in the nest is a testament to the way God has created them. It also shows how He takes care of all creation.

   If He shows that much care for birds, how about us?

" Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?"

   We need to live in the truth of our worth to God.

   Watching the eagles on the camera is fun, but the lesson for me is in how much he cares for me, and for each one of us.

   Look over the rest of the site above, especially the interview with the Berry College professor, their resident eagle expert, which is here:

https://www.facebook.com/berrycollegeeagles

   Everything that science learns about God's creation confirms the care with which He has created and sustained.

   Praise be to Him..

 

Time For Oatmeal

   I have been bothered for the past few days, even when I got up this morning, with the fact that I have not taken the time to sit down and read, or study, or pray meaningfully, or write, for three mornings in a row.

   Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday all began with places to be at 7AM. Now, I know that I could have set the alarm for 5AM or so, and had time, but I did not. So, on those 3 days, I hurriedly got up, got breakfast and took off for my appointments.

   I guess I felt guilty. With all of my pronouncements of the early morning time being the best part of the day because of spending some quiet time with God, I did not even do it. What does it take to have this as a start to my day?

   As an illustration, I do not need to look beyond my breakfast of today, it is right there on the counter waiting for me. My recipe for today's first meal:



   Oatmeal, good for what ails you, putting a smile to your face. It is good and good for you, and I enjoy making it.

   But what is the secret of this recipe? Why is it so good? It is in the last line of the instructions:



   The secret ingredient is TIME.

   I can get all of the stuff together. I can get it set up in the bowl, but if I do not give it enough time, it will not turn out well.

   First of all, I guess you have to want to have that for breakfast, then you have to take the proper time to make it happen.

   It is the same way with any worthwhile endeavor. I have to feel the need for it first, the want-to of doing it, and then I have to take the time. It does not have to be 10 hours in the crock pot, but it does have to be enough to let God speak and time for me to listen.

   Today gives me two early blessings: Time with The Heavenly Father, and perfectly cooked oatmeal.

   Hard to beat

Plans, Whose Plans?

   A busy morning brought me to a doctor's waiting room this day. It was a check-up, nothing earth shattering, and this post has nothing to do with medical issues. Two things came together in my mind and brought out these thoughts.

   Incident No. 1: The book I was reading in the waiting room, while, what else, waiting, was called Damascus Countdown, by Joel Rosenberg. This fictional portrayal of some end-times scenarios regarding Israel, Syria, Iran and other countries, including the US, is set in the current day and uses the prophecies of Ezekiel 38 and 39. It is one author's take on the plans of various world leaders that center on the Middle East.

   Incident No. 2: When my check-up ended and I was ushered up to the front window to make a new appointment, my conversation with the receptionist focused on when I would like to come back for a 6 months followup. She gave me a date in September, and my thought was, "who knows what I could be doing on September 8, 2014. I had no idea, but, of course, took the date and the appointment card and went on my way.

   Does anyone know for sure how the whole situation in the Middle East will work out? God knows for sure, but how about national leaders concerned with the result? Whose plans will be carried out and whose timetable will prevail? 

   It even breaks down into such a thing as my personal life. In the great scheme of things, it is of little consequence, especially on the world stage. My appointment may be on the books of the doctor and on my personal calendar, but does that have any relevance to my being in that place at that time? Some perhaps, but I cannot know any of the things that may go on over those 180 or so days.

   This post is not about making plans. We all have to do that, but it is concerned with who is in control of those plans and their outcomes.

   It is like the boy who held the baby bird in his hand, grasping it tightly so it would not get away. As the father pried open the boy's fingers a little bit, he reminded him that holding it too tightly could kill the fragile baby. It was only by holding it loosely that he was assured of both protecting the fledgling and keeping it in his possession.

   We are in the same situation. We need to hold our plans and our schedules loosely, letting God work out the details, not only the outcomes, but all of the ins and outs along the way.

   God knows I have an appointment on 8:30, September 8, 2014. Let's see what He does with it.

   He is in control, and I am flexible.

   My pencil has both lead and an eraser.

Acting Out

   In Mark 2 this morning, I read the story of the paraplegic, brought to Jesus by 4 friends who got him to the place where he could be healed. We are not told much about either the sick man or his friends.       What is concentrated on is the healing by the Master, not about the individuals involved in putting the man in front of Jesus.

   But, I have to wonder about those 4 men. Who were they, and what was their compulsion to make this happen? Perhaps most of all, I wonder about what happened to them after the deed was done, and the man got up and walked home?

   Mark seems to tell this story for several reasons. First there is the healing by Jesus, showing His power to both forgive sin and to heal the body of the man. Then there is the indignation of the religious leaders, and the actions of the 4 men.

   No doubt the 4 Jewish men had heard their rabbis and Pharisee leaders read Scripture about care of your fellow man. They had listened to the Old Testament (their only Bible) stories, heard the Psalms and the Proverbs and knew that God wanted His people to be a kind and generous nation. They could have sat and listened to these exhortations all day long and felt satisfied that they knew what to do when the time came. They knew the way to live out their lives.

   But knowing, as good as it is and as important, was not the end all for this quartet. They acted and took the man, who could not take himself, put him in a place where a miracle could take place, and then saw the result of their labors.

   They acted out what they knew to be right.

   In my mind and putting myself into that scene, I know I would have been one of the four. My mind makes me one of the heroes, but then the question comes; would I really have gone out on this limb?

   Hearing what is right, even knowing what is the right thing to do for someone, is not the end. It is the carrying over into action that which needs to be done.

   Loving your neighbor as you love yourself is not just a pithy saying, it is a call to action.

   God, help me to see and to care.