The More Simple Things..

   Perhaps, in my older age, I am becoming more like a child again, taking pleasure in the more simple things of life, and seeing in them what is more important, at least to me.

   Why would I, rather than watch and listen to the words of the newscasters and pundits, sit down and read children's literature, and take note of the jewels of nature and Nature's God?

   Two examples from the past few days:

   I have mentioned before that I read to my wife out loud. We have read a lot of books over the past few years, but I have found that it is increasingly difficult for her to follow the plots and keep up with the various characters. This is frustrating for a woman who majored in English in college and loved to read.

   So, in the last few days, we have begun to read the Chronicles of Narnia books by C.S. Lewis. Now this is not a chore for me, I have enjoyed them and look forward to continuing the stories each day. We have finished The Magician's Nephew, and have begun The Lion, Witch and Wardrobe.

   I had read somewhere recently that everyone over 60 should go back and read the Narnia books again, revisiting the stories and imagery of Lewis to see them with the eyes of old age, both for enjoyment and wisdom.

   So we have, and it has been a delight for both of us, except for the fact that my reading tends to put my wife to sleep. So I try to keep the readings short, for both of us.

   A couple of days back, we had gone down to the pool area in the morning before lunch. We were enjoying the outdoors and the story, when I noticed a gleam coming from a bush planted beside the poolside. Thinking I knew what was causing this, I looked more closely and discovered a combination of water and nature that needed capturing with my camera.

   I'll let the images speak for themselves:

   The goodness of a simple story, and the beauty of Nature.

   Simple things from God to delight our way.

   We are blessed, and we know it.

  

Easter, A Great Day...

   I like Easter, always on a Sunday, in the Spring with the newness everywhere, a day for celebration, gladness and joy.

   Since we do not get to church much anymore, we tuned in to the streaming live service. It is not the same as being with all the people, singing with a common purpose, but it is not all bad either.

   I like the greatness and majesty of a traditional hymn..

Christ, the Lord, is risen today, Alleluia!
Sons of men and angels say, Alleluia!
Raise your joys and triumphs high, Alleluia!
Sing, ye heavens, and earth, reply, Alleluia!

   The words seem to cover one, as an old friend, and make you feel you belong in this moment, a moment of triumph and victory.

   The Day is not just one of celebration, although it certainly is that, it is also a Day of purpose. Of God's purpose supplanting those of man. A Day of giving a New Purpose to each of the lives touched by Jesus.

   And so, as the day moved on through the afternoon and evening, it seemed like a new feeling fueling the activities. True, the activities were much the same, eating and reading, a few golf shots and some photography; just a restful day with a lot of smiles along the way.

   I even smile as I think back over the past hours of yesterday. It was a good day.

   Was it how I had envisioned it? Somewhat, my activities were "normal", but my feelings were more like the satisfied smile of it being "right".

   After supper, we decided to go over to Epworth, the Methodist retreat center on the island, and catch the sunset. A good way to end a good day.

   Of course, I took my camera, after all you just never know...

   Leaving my wife in the car, there are Spring insects you know, especially around nightfall, I moved toward the marsh and spooked a large heron who flew off down the water a few yards.

   Thinking I might get a good shot, I told Mayre, I was going down to the south a ways and check out the bird.

   While walking I noticed another large bird flying into the tree branches a little farther down. After moving to that tree, I could not spot him in the foliage.

   Just then, another large bird flew into the branches of the next tree. He became my target, and he became my "catch".

   A Woodstork, just for me..

   And the heron was there as I returned to the car.

   I planned on the sunset, and it was there on time, but I got more

   Even as the day wore on, and I had to make an improvised plan, with a smiling result, I thought..

   Jesus Christ is Risen, on Easter and on all of the days following.

   We should celebrate this fact every day and live in light of it.

   Beginning the day after Easter and ..........every day thereafter.

   Amen
  

A Story of Grasses..

   We were talking the other day about the Masters. Someone had read my previous blog post (http://walkinganewpath-pilgrim.blogspot.com/) and asked what impressed me most on the telecast.

   Without thinking too hard, I said, "The grass".

                         (This is fairway grass at Augusta)

   Later I got to thinking, why did I say that?

   Where we live, there are some really nice golf courses, and if I had to rank them in order of maintenance and care, the 9 holes that I regularly walk would rank on the bottom. Our course, Sea Palms, is comprised of the 18 holes near the clubhouse, where most play, and an overflow nine holes on the west side of Frederica Rd., a layout that does not receive the same level of care as the main course.

   When we play the West Side, the grass is mowed, but not kept up well. The greens are playable, but not good, the ponds have water, but a lot of other stuff too, the sand in the traps is bumpy and inconsistent. In short, it is a nice walk, and you can put down a score.

   That got me to thinking of other courses that I have played over the years that might make the West Side take on a brighter hue.

   Take Cherokee Valley. One day, a man out in the country where we lived decided to build a nine hole par 3 course on his land. I did not watch him build it, but it was a series of greens and tee boxes, with little fairway grass, and small bunkers with little sand. It was a challenge to say the least, and it was the only course I ever played that had crabgrass greens to putt on. Doug and I played it a lot.

   Then there was Concord. As I played there one day, I noticed the mower on the next fairway. It was the only time I ever saw a fairway being taken care of with a bushhog. It is hard to groom grass with that piece of equipment, but, you know, that course is still there, so they must be doing something right.

   I have also played all three of the Sea Island courses here, plus Ocean Forest and Frederica. They are manicured layouts where even the grass in the rough is well taken care of. So I know the difference that grass makes.

   Golf is a game, true, but when you play, the stories of the day should be about how you scored, and not about the grass, or lack thereof.

   Of course, some player's games resemble crabgrass, and some others, Augusta.

   Us crabgrass players know where we belong, following the bushhog down the fairway and putting on those greens that Jordan Spieth will never see.

   Enjoying the love of the game......regardless

Images and a new Law...

   The Masters is probably my favorite golf tournament. It is close by us, only about 3 hours away, it has the color and the tradition. CBS does a masterful job in its television coverage, with a dignified broadcast, good announcers and a minimum of ad spots.

   Not only all those reasons, but I have been a few times and have a feel for the course, the crowds, and the food concessions. The egg salad sandwich for $1.50 is the best sandwich for the money at any venue.

   I watched most of this year's tournament's final round on last Sunday, some of it live and some on the DVR, and there were some images that stick in my mind, even today.

   Three in particular:

   1. Not only the hole-in-one by Matt Kuchar, but the aftermath of that shot on hole 16.

   Matt is one of the pros who have moved to St. Simons, and it was good to see those two smiling faces, Matt as he hit the shot and watched it go in the hole, and the boy he signed and gave the ball to after retrieving it from the cup. A great gesture and a memorable moment.

   2. Sergio Garcia and Justin Rose after the match on the 18th green. They are friends on and off the course, and they seemed not to be competitors as much as fellow golfers who truly liked one another.

   3. A shot of Angela Akins, Sergio's fiancee', as she holds her hat over her face and crouches after she witnesses the final putt for the win. Raw emotion for Sergio, and for her.

    There was, and is, a final picture, one that I have not found on the Internet, but one that I feel says it all about competition, friendship and respect.

   I'll have to explain it, and ask you to see it in your mind's eye.

   I believe it was after the tee shots on 16, and, as the two men walked from the tee box toward the green, Sergio, without saying a word, reaches his open hand backwards, and Rose reaches forward and gives it a small slap.

   Rose had hit a great shot to 16, and Sergio issues his congratulations on a job well done. The respect of two men, both competitors for the green jacket which neither had ever won.

   Three shots that someone else took and put out for all of us to enjoy. Three shots that I felt conveyed the emotion and drama of the final round.

   And one shot that I could not find, but that I will bet will show up one day, if not from an official photo, at least from a iPhone.

   And a Law that I discovered while watching:

   Bowman's Law of Taping Sport's Broadcasts:

   Never ever assume that the length of the telecast of any sporting event will correspond to the length of the DVR setting. My recording ended with the two men on the green on 18, both with legitimate birdie chances, but time ran out before either could putt.

   I had to go to YouTube to catch the highlights of that 18th hole and the playoff.

   Oh Well,

   It was a Tournament Like No Other, in many ways….

Meaning of the Missing Piece?

   Eons ago, way back on January 14, 2016, I wrote a short blog post on a puzzle I had just finished, one that came with a missing piece. If you want to read that post go:

http://walkinganewpath-pilgrim.blogspot.com/2016/01/a-renegade-puzzle.html

   Fast forward to more recent times, where I have just finished another puzzle, A Coke puzzle, that did not have a missing piece.

   How do these two puzzles relate?

   Here is the story, what is the meaning of all this?

   While working on the Coke puzzle, a 1000 piece one, my first job was to find and place all the side pieces, those with a straight edge, aside, so that I had a frame to begin to work in all the various designs and Coke posters.

   I went through the box literally one piece at a time, and pulled out all those sides. Putting them together, I found that I had gaps, and still was missing one corner piece. You know, pieces with two straight sides..

   So I went back through the rest of the 900 or so pieces left in the box and discovered a few I had missed the first time. But then I could not find any more and still had missing side pieces.

   Deciding to go ahead and and work some middle pieces in, so as to cut down on the pile of unused ones, I thought maybe, just maybe, I could find the other sides. No luck..

   I looked on the floor, and all around the counters. No luck there either.

   You know, after you spend a lot of time looking, all the pieces seem to look the alike, and so you quit.

    Later on that day, while looking for an apple to eat, I noticed a funny thing in the fruit drawer of the refrigerator, a puzzle piece keeping cool with the fruit.

   It was the one from January, 2016, 15 months ago, not missing, just hiding.

   There must be a moral to this happen chance.

   What could it be?

   Puzzles come with all pieces in the box?

   Some pieces have a mind of their own?

   Puzzle pieces like a cooler climate?

   For some, their time has not yet come?

   I believe I took all the old jigsaw puzzles we had down to the retirement center. Did I take that one also? Should I go find out and restore the missing piece?

   Or, should I not take away the joy of some retiree, discovering the puzzle with the missing piece.

   Or, is there, somewhere, a person desperately searching for a piece to fit in to an otherwise nice and interesting puzzle.

   What's a body to do?

   If I want to make the old puzzle whole again, I have to remember what I did with it.

   And I have to find the piece. It is not still in the fridge, so where could it be?

   And what is the meaning of Life?

Who's In Your Pond?

   Coming back to the condo after a quick early morning walk, I noticed a new car in the visitor's spot outside Building 1. Curiosity led me to look at the license plate as I passed it, and it was a Georgia plate with the designation of Lee as the county.

   Now I have been to Lee County several times over the past few years, once to photograph the courthouse and a couple of times to see a man held in the state prison there.

   So I made a mental note to write this man a quick email and tell him I was thinking of him today.

   Earlier in my walk I had spent a few minutes thinking about the effect people have on us, even if we have no idea who they are or where they are, even if they are alive or dead, people back through time.

   The two lines of thought seemed to come together in my mind, and I used my note to my prison friend to encourage him in his walk there at Lee State Prison.

   I suggested that he find another inmate there and befriend him. There are so many in our prisons who are lonely, who have no family that contacts them, or who just do not want to interact with anyone.

   "See if you can find someone to help today. You can never tell what a smile and a word might do for him. It could be his time to turn his life around, and a kind word could be just the impetus. Think what that could mean for his family at home. They could be impacted as well, and you never know what young person, son, daughter or just friend might grow up to be, just because of what you did."

   Yesterday I sent a card to my granddaughter in college in CA. She and her brother, who is out of college and working in San Francisco, are hard to buy presents for, and so I made a contribution to Compassion International to help in work with children around the world. Sydney had spent last Fall in Argentina, and we had talked about living conditions for young people in some of the areas there.

   The card was a Thank You from Compassion for the gift to assist in providing clean water to children and families all over the world.

   I thought, "who knows what just some clean water could mean to a child suffering from poverty and poor living conditions. What course might their life take and what could they become? Might they just be a catalyst for a better world, and all from a drink of good water?"

   (Sawyer's Christmas gift was a contribution to buy books for a school in Africa, and he got a card, too.)


   Things, done in response to a need, not knowing the impact, and perhaps never knowing (at least not in our lifetime). A pebble tossed into a pond, the ripples expanding from the present into the future. The results, up to God.

   At the moment in time where we stand right now, we have been recipients of a lot of pebbles tossed into ponds over many years. They did not know us, and we do not know them, but they tossed, and we are the ones that have benefited.

   If I pause and take a minute to ponder how many folks have affected my life, my mind is blown away with the shear number of them, Family, friends of family, friends of friends. They did something, made a move, and because of that, I am where I am today. All the way from Adam and Eve, people have made decisions, people have followed a path that led to today.

   God gives us the good pebbles..We toss them in our pond. Years later those ripples are still moving and impacting lives.

   Three things:

      No pebble tossed into a pond fails to make a ripple..

      No life is insignificant..

      No contact with another life is incidental..

   There is a greater story. It goes on after we die, and we can still have a part to play.

   Who's in My Pond, or Yours?

  

Serving at the Intersection of Despair and Hope..

   This is a story about a real person, a young lady that used to be in our church here on the Island. She was an Emergency Room nurse, then moved away to Virginia, then got married to a Marine Lt. Col, then moved to California where he was stationed. Her name is Lynn.

   She just got back from a 3 week deployment with Samaritan's Purse at their mobile hospital outside the city of Mosul, Iraq. Yes, that is the city that has been controlled by ISIS and is now in the process of being retaken by Iraqi troops with American help.

   Mosul is a dangerous place, with civilians trapped inside a place where the war rages. They face danger from jihadists as well as from the firepower of people who want to rid them of their persecutors. They are caught in the crossfire. They either try to leave the city if they can, or just hunker down and try to survive. It is no picnic for them.

   And it is no picnic for the medical personnel working in this mobile unit set up to minister to those who are caught here. I don't know the percentage, but many of the casualties are women and children. To those Iraqis, these doctors and nurses bring hope in a season of despair. But people also die there. Some are badly hurt when they are brought in, and, in spite of round the clock care and compassion, they do not make it out alive.

   It must be heartbreaking to tend to a wounded child, to pray for him and his family, and then to watch him pass on. You put your heart on the line for him, and part of you must die with him.

   Lynn served there for 3 weeks, caring for all those brought in. She was close to the front lines, and I am sure the sounds of war filled her ears a lot of the time.

   But she volunteered for this, as did the others in that hospital, and she had to make a difference, as they all did. (Lynn on the far left)

   At the Intersection of Despair and Hope, there was also the Intersection of Courage and Compassion.

   One picture says it all about her service:

   Where the ISIS forces leave IEDs behind to further wound and kill after they are forced out, these volunteers leave behind their own blood to help those who might need it soon.

   Lynn is one of my heroes, and I am proud to be her friend.

   And I support Samaritan's Purse as they show the Love of Christ in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.