A Rambling Tale of People and Searching

   On our way home from Arkansas the other day, we made a couple of stops to add to our county courthouse collection. These two places did not fall on our route to anywhere, but we were in the area and wanted to check them off our list.

   Crossing back over into Georgia from Alabama, we turned south on state route 39 toward the town of Fort Gaines, the county seat of Clay County. Fort Gaines, once an outpost on the frontier, is a town of around 1100 people, in a county of 3300, with a town center of about 2 acres (according to the web site), so how hard could it be to find the courthouse?

   Bur as we rode into town, we did not see it. So I stopped to ask a woman cleaning the windows of a Radio Shack store on the main street. She gave me directions, and off we went. Not seeing the sought location, we stopped at a Chevron station and asked another. After finding out that he was from somewhere else and was just there delivering chickens to the fast food store located with the gas station, we listened to a man that he had summoned, who pointed us back north on that same street for a couple of blocks. Passing back down that way we found a building that housed the tax assessors office, but no courthouse sign or monument, staples of Georgia courthouses all over the state.

   So I stopped to ask again. As I pulled to the curb, I noticed a little shop with the door open. Seeing a woman in the place, I quietly knocked so as not to scare her as she worked. Telling her what I was looking for, she smiled and told me to go back toward the Chevron, and I would find it on the left just before the station. After telling her what I was doing there and expressing some concern about finding my target, she walked out to the street and pointed the way, saying that I could not miss it. I jokingly told her she should just go with us and point it out when we got there, but she explained that I could not fail to see it this time. As I got back into the car and turned around, she began walking up the sidewalk to the corner, and when I spotted the courthouse and got out to take a picture, I saw her standing in the middle of the street, watching me. We waved to each other and went our separate ways.

   As I stood on the sidewalk to get a picture, a truck drove up and stopped and the window rolled down. The sheriff had stopped to find out what I was up to. After explaining my quest, he gave me a little brief history and went on his way. After taking a few shots, I wandered in the building. I saw no one, and all the doors to the offices in that hallway were closed. Knowing from the sign outside that this courthouse had been built in 1873, and calculating that it had been in continuous use for 140 years, I knew that I needed to see more. A stairway led to the second floor, and as I creaked up it, I wondered what I would find. At the top a double doorway, unlocked conveniently, let me into the courtroom, where I just stood drinking it all in. I thought of all the things that had gone on in that room, and all the people that had passed through that spot in their various situations of life in that area. I saw the juror's chairs on the side of the room, looking like they had just been vacated at the end of another trial, and I wondered about those people that had occupied those seats, for that last trial, and all those others that had gone on before.

    Deciding that I had better rescue my wife, who had been patiently waiting in the car, I clomped back down those squeaky wooded stairs only to find three people in the hallway below watching me suspiciously. Thinking that maybe I was not supposed to be up there on the second floor, I explained my purpose, and told them that I was impressed with the building and with the courtroom in particular. They seemed satisfied, and I felt  relief, even as I noticed the sheriff coming in the back door heading my way. Thanking everyone, I beat a retreat out the front, back to the car, and back on the road, no doubt leaving a whole town wondering what idiot would be poking around old courthouses and just shaking their collective heads at the whole episode.

   As I walked this morning, in the absolute quiet of an early Saturday morning, I wondered about those folks in that little town, in an out-of-the way spot of southwest Georgia. The Radio Shack cleaner lady, the chicken deliverer, the wrong information man, the lady in the alteration shop that wanted to make sure I got where I wanted to go, the sheriff, checking up on a stranger, the courthouse employees wondering about the noise from upstairs, and the many people who had come to that courtroom in so many capacities. All those different people, living their own particular stories.

   My life intersected with theirs, at least the living ones that I met, not the courtroom ones from 100 years back, and was it for more than just to give them something to talk about that afternoon? Was it more for me, too?

   Was there also more for me in that part of our state that I missed from being in such a hurry to get home that day? Maybe I ought to go back one day, but will I?

   Perhaps, but at least I got to think about it all again this morning, and wonder.

   They may still be wondering, too.

Old and Gray Time

   As much as I like to visit my family in far off places, it is good to be back home again. No matter how much joy I have when being with kin, there is just something about being back in a routine, and in a place where you know where all your stuff is. Sleeping in your own bed is great.

   So, when I noticed the title of the Psalm that I was to read for today, I knew it was for me. Psalm 71 was entitled in the New American Standard like this:

Prayer of an Old Man for Deliverance.

   And the verse that caught my eye was this:

"And even when I am old and gray, O God, do not forsake me,
Until I declare Your strength to this generation,"

   The more I travel, and the longer the trip, and the number of days on the road, especially when they pass one, the more I feel my age.

   On our way to Arkansas last week, our first travel day was from home to Mississippi, and I spent time, as I drove, to think about and watch for things that would make a good photo opportunity, knowing that I would be back that way in a few days. Even the second day going west I saw some neat things, but we were almost to Conway, and they would still be available on the way home in a few days.

   Then, the visit was over, and it was time to return to the east and home. The closer we got to home the more I would make the comment that "that spot we just passed would make a good picture" as we continued on our way, not even slowing down.

   We did make a couple of stops, but, by and large it was just "let's get home".

   So, when I realize what my life is looking like, and where I am on that continuum, I know that that psalmist's prayer is for me too.

   But I notice also that this one who penned the Psalm was not selfish in his request, there was a purpose to his asking. There was a purpose to his life. He wanted to declare God's strength. From the footnotes to the verses, the word used as strength is literally "arm". So the psalmist wanted to tell what God had done and would do, not only in his life, but in the lives of the others that were in that generation, the ones living in his time.

   And, as I quoted this verse in this blog, that same psalm writer continues even far past his lifetime.

   I would that my life, even the old and gray part, would have such purpose.

   PS. I did stop a couple of times. Here is the 1904 Library, still in use, in Eufaula, AL. Everyone has to take a bathroom break sometime.

 

Remembering Wonders

   This is our last day over here in Arkansas, and one of our most pleasurable experiences has been to take walks with the kids. A couple of times we have walked over to the campus and gone through the Jewel Moore Nature Reserve which sits on the south side of the university property, close to playing fields and busy roadways.

   So this morning I went back to stroll through the trails one more time. I thought, as I walked, of the other visits this weekend with our grand daughter and her mom. It was great to see the flora and fauna through the eyes of a 9 year old and hear her talk about the various things that she was seeing.

   I thought also about the wonders of God's creation and how little time I stop to see and wonder. One of the features of this Reserve is a prairie restoration project which seeks to replicate what the area looked like before the current civilization urbanized these lands.

   I can hardly imagine what the early pioneers thought when they came upon fields covered like this, or, in fact, what Native Americans lived in prior to that. Was there a sense of awe and wonder as to what God had done, and an appreciation of His work?

   In Psalm 111 there is a verse that states:

   "He has made His wonders to be remembered;"

   Wonders to be remembered.

   And so I am grateful this morning for the people who made my walk possible, who thought it was important to show future generations what a glorious masterpiece God created, one that can be seen in history texts for sure, but so much better in experiencing it firsthand on any early morning.

God is on Campus, Too

   When we travel, especially when we go to be with family, it is easy to be distracted from our relationships. That is not only with our friends and other family, but also with God. From the time we get up to the time we go to bed, it seems like the grand children are there, with board or card games, with plans to go somewhere or just to be around us. Now not that it is all bad, but it does take up a lot of the day, leaving me to realize at the end of a busy day, that I have just put God away and taken care of them.

   Today, when I do manage to go out for a quick walk before the house stirs, I ask myself if God is there. I walk toward and into the campus and note a sign for incoming students:

   I have heard of this organization, in fact I passed their house on the main street yesterday on the way back from supper. I note that they are a campus ministry and I realize that God does have some active students on campus.

   There is a chapel in the middle of campus, built in 1963, that I walked toward this morning. I just wanted to sit in the quiet and let God speak to me. The doors were open and no one was around, so I went in and sat for a few minutes. Just knowing there was a place where students could come and get out of the rat race of college life and connect with Him was comforting for me also.

   Later on in the morning, Cady Gray and I went back to campus to take some shots that I wanted to us in this blog post. Sitting in that chapel, just watching that 4th grader sitting in that pew or pretending to play that piano, it seemed right somehow, as if God was saying to me: "I am here, I will be with you while you are here and when you go home, and I will be here for these students. Take time to look for Me and you will find Me."

   I need to do just that, each and every day...

Just Fun...Nothing Profound

   After a couple of days on the road, we are over in the great state of Arkansas, visiting family for a few days.

   Always good to be over here with these kids and grandkids, and we look forward to some fun days and some memories made.

  Cady Gray and her mom took us on a nature walk after supper over in a prairie restoration project on the UCA campus and they took the time to point out some good stuff.

   Here are the 3 generations of ladies beginning the trek to the wilderness. Pioneer women?

   A couple of the views:

   It is always good to have some photographic ideas framed by an 8 (soon to be 9) year old.

   Tomorrow could be even better...

Seeing Red This Morning

   A preacher came to our church in Knoxville one day and gave an illustration that I recall as I sit to write this morning. He said that as we live there might be something like a tape recorder in our brain that is recording all we say and do, our thoughts and what we hear.

   I thought of that this morning, because of all the music that seems to be in my mind as I wake up on a lot of days. Sometimes the melodies and the lyrics are secular, but most are religious, and I not only hear them as I get up, but they continue with me on my walk. Often I write about them as I feel that the words and meaning are what God is trying to impress on my heart and mind on that particular morning.

   Oft times it is the sweetness of the melody and the words that come through as I walk and as I look at the pinks and the blues of the sky as the sun gets ready to come over the eastern horizon. It is easy to sit and write of the beauty of nature and the implications of a new day. Uplifting phrases and verses from the Psalms come to mind as I write, and, I think, that perhaps someone might get the same feelings as they read.

   The words of an old William Cowper hymn came to my mind earlier today, as I woke:

"There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Emmanuel’s veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains.
Lose all their guilty stains, lose all their guilty stains;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains."

   I realized that these were for me on this day, but how was I supposed to process them and then write about what they said?

   Then the sunrise filled the eastern sky, not with the pastels of some mornings, but with the deep rich colors of orange and red, like this:

   God seemed to be saying, "Write about the Blood of Jesus Christ. He is the One that has given you eternal life and the platform to speak about things that matter most."

   So I do, with the knowledge that the redemptive work of God in the life of a person comes through the shed blood of Jesus on that cross, so many years ago. He alone made the sacrifice that allows me to claim a relationship with God the Father.

   It seems so easy to write about the "good things" of God in nature, but harder to get into the real nitty-gritty things of the Gospel. But they are there, and they are good also, even blood and death and sacrifice.

   These words are in the Gospel of Mark:

"For if anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will also be ashamed of him when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

   I am not ashamed to be a follower of Christ.

 

Peace

   How many folks wake up this morning full of worry about what this day will bring? How many need the peace that the words of this song speaks about?

"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul."

   This was the verse and the music that was on my mind this morning, and I can see where these thought come from. Two of my best friends are facing medical issues this day, and when I woke up I knew that I needed to get up and pray for them and the ones that love them.

   One friend I visited with yesterday is having all kinds of trouble with his back and can't seem to get much relief from the pain. I'm sure he is looking for a way out of all that, even as he deals with the uncertainty of when.

   Another friend is facing surgery this morning to fix a blocked artery. Although this is a common procedure, there is always the nagging fear any time a person faces this.

   I know that there are many others that face uncertainty this morning, even maybe some that will read these words. None of us know what this day will bring, and sometimes the future looks so murky that we cannot but tend to be uneasy.

   So I pray for these two men and their families right now, and I throw in a prayer for anyone else that is going through anxiety over anything else. I pray that they might have the peace that the hymn writer speaks of.

   And I pray that for my life also. We all need it.

   God knows about my life today, and He knows about those tomorrows, too. His is the peace that gives us rest and security, and we all need just that.

   Lord, help us to know those words in our lives and not just sing them.