Do Windmills Have Voices?

   Driving down the highway, the scenery seems to slide by at 70 mph, and my thoughts are often elsewhere, but over here in South Georgia, I have been intrigued several times by a scene on my route.

   Now, in my older years, I have shunned the Interstates of this world, and taken to the back roads. Roads that take me through smaller towns and give me glimpses of life lived away from busyness and sprawl.

   Roads such as Highway 341, which I often take on my way north from St. Simons. Traffic is lighter, big semis fewer, and scenes more bucolic.

   A road that takes me through Jesup, Odom, Baxley, McCrea and Hazelhurst.

   A road that lets me unwind before I have to go back to the hurry of Interstates 16 and 75,  roads that will take me to Macon, and Atlanta, and on to Chattanooga.

   I have driven this road several times in the last few months, and I can tell you, without looking it up, which of its towns have courthouses and good places to eat.

   It is familiar to me.

   Several times lately, I have noticed a scene that I wondered about.

   Somewhere between McCrea and Baxley, I spotted, rising above the surrounding trees, the remnants of a homestead (I think). Maybe the correct term is "farmstead"

   What is left of a house, with its water tower and tank, and windmill.

   So, driving that route the other day, I stopped. Getting out of the car, noticing the "No Trespassing" signs on the fence, seeing the lock on the gate, but slipping around it into the yard (?), I walked up to the structures. The grass was tall and a misty rain had made an appearance.

   It was also quiet. Even though 314 is a four lane highway, there was no traffic. The only noises were insects.

   Then a whirring sound above me. Looking up I noticed a slight breeze had come up, and the windmill blades were moving.

   It was then I wondered about the folks who had once lived in this place.

   What kind of life did they have?

   What loves did they share?

   There were a lot of memories stored in this site. Memories of men, women and children. Memories of games and love and work.

   The windmill moved around catching the wind from wherever it came. The sounds seemed to want to tell me something, but what?

   Real people lived here once. Real lives were brought into the world and departed thence. Life was sustained and nurtured.

   Whose, What kind, and How were all questions that had answers, but the windmill just whirred and I had to leave still wondering.

   A trip back into someones past, with the human voices stilled, but the windmill speaking on regardless,

   And I understood not it's language.

And The Moral of This Story Is....

   One of my new early morning habits has become a walk on the beach. It is quiet before the sun comes up. There is time to think. There is time to pray. There is the sense that all is right with the world, and that there is that surety that God's mercies and grace are new every morning.

   Some dawns are cloudy, some are kinda moody, but there are times like this morning that seem absolutely glorious.

My friend Duke Smith once told me that I should always look behind me when I finished shooting, and so I did..

A picture of the sunrise that I had never seen before. Taken facing west instead of east.

And the moral of this story is:

Don't think that all you see is all there is.

There is always more

Maybe A New Stage?

   For the past few months, I have tried to follow almost everyone's advice and stay busy. Playing golf, tennis, bike riding, walking a lot, just attempting to fill the hours in the day with something constructive.

   Let's not say that this feeling is an everyday thing, but a lot of time it is. There must be some halfway productive things that I can do.

   Thinking back on some things that I used to enjoy doing, I notice my camera bag sitting in the closet on the floor, lonely I think. Realizing that I used to go out a lot and practice shooting various scenes and locales, but had not in quite awhile, why not put some productive activity into my schedule.

   I had read an article in the paper about the full moon that we were experiencing in these days and thought, "why not?". I've got the time for sure.

   On the way to the beach last evening, I had a good feeling, like I was about to do something. Perhaps not great, but way better than nothing.

   My neighbor and I had been talking outside the other night about shooting moon shots at night, and I had written down the things he reminded me of. So, before setting out, I dialed in the settings he suggested and took a sticky note with some other items to do when I got to my spot.

   I set up and the moon came up.

   Playing with the camera a little bit, I got these shots, and I remembered why I had enjoyed this hobby.

   The moon had arisen out of the ocean on the eastern horizon and a cloud cooperated by giving some color and texture to the pictures.

   That moon is right in the full stage and should be that way as it exits the sky in the morning, I thought, so I got up early to catch it going down.

   It definitely was not the same kind of shot. The moon at 5 am was high in the sky, a bright shining white light in a somewhat cloudy setting.

   Like this:

   A faint bit of color which produced shots such as these.

   But my most important discovery was that just trying to stay busy is not a panacea to fits of loneliness.

   Going back and finding joy in something that you used to love is a way out of useless movement.

   Realizing what you had been overlooking was a surprising result.

   God cooperated with a fabulous moon, all I had was to get up off my chair and go.

   And I wonder, what else in my closet is calling my name?

   Also wondering what else will stir me out of this funk I've been absorbed with. God may be saying:

  "Look around at My world, enjoy this creation, perhaps by interacting with it, you may see more than just yourself."

   And I pray that this is so...

But Even If He Does Not...

   Walking down the beach, or up if you prefer that direction, this morning, greeting the few that were out early with a "Good Morning", I thought about those folks out there, like I was.

   What were they thinking?

   What were they looking forward to today, or maybe even dreading it?

   I thought of the word "anticipation" and I found a meaning:

"realization in advance; foretaste."

   It seems to me, as I think about it, that there is little neutral in the word. It is either a happy thought or one of impending doom. There is little middle ground in anticipation.

   When I woke this morning early, my thoughts were on anticipation, and they were happy. It is great to have some events, be they near or far away, that you can smile as you think of them. It does not mean that they will happen as you foresee,  just that the foretaste can be good in your mouth, or, in this case, in your dreams.

   If your foresight turned out to be on target, all is well, and you can revel in successes in accomplishment, or in life in general.

   But what happens if your dreams of glory are dashed in disaster?

   What if, in spite of your anticipation, your dreams go up in ashes, what do you think then?

   Could you react like the three Israelite men in Daniel Chapter 3 as they replied to the king:

"17 If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. 18 But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”

   Is my faith so fragile that I cannot take disappointment or loss? Even if He does not come through as I planned He would, can I pray "Thy Will Be Done"?

   Do I rely on the fact that His Mercies are new every morning and His Grace covers my whole life?

   Do I greet the new day with an anticipation, that whatever happens in this day, I can still pray for His Will to be Done?

   If I can live in light of that fact, my life will reveal Him, and it will be that my worries will turn to ashes and not my dreams.

 

   

One Sunday in August

   We live on an Island.

   But for a long time, I did not appreciate the beach. Now, suddenly, the beach at break of day is my favorite place to be.

   It is dark when I arrive this morning.

   The lifeguard's chair is empty and waiting.

   I find that an lot of emotions take place in my heart on these early morning walks. They seem to see me coming and line up to march alongside me as the new day begins.

   There is Thanksgiving:

   Thankful that God has watched over me, that He has made His mercies new every morning, that He allows me to meet him in the quiet stillness of this early hour, that He quiets my soul and gives me peace and strength.

   There is some Sorrow also:

   A friend gave me a bracelet that represents a daughter in law that has cancer, and I pray for that girl and her whole family. She just represents a whole host of folks that are suffering through trials right now, and I feel a certain empathy for all of them.

   But there is also Love:

   I follow a double set of tracks down the beach, people I assume walking together.

   And then I spot them ahead of me, sharing a hand, just being together on the beach.

   Someone else was planning ahead.

   And I think fondly of people who have shared a hand with me in the past, and the present, and will in the future. Hands of help, of strength, and, yes, of love. People who have walked alongside and shared their lives with mine. It is another thing to be grateful for.

   There is also the emotion of Hope.

 

   Hope in the very day that sun represents. Hope in the days that lie out in the future. God is in control. I am not walking my path in the dark and alone.

 

   Yes, the world goes on around me, but I pause in it's midst to think about where I have been, and where I am right now, physically and emotionally, and I smile.

   And I think of the song that I talked about in my last post...

   My Great God Cares For Me

   He even leaves me a couple of tangible reminders:

   Resources for the journey (even a dime will help)

   And a live reminder of prayer with this guy.

   From Thanksgiving to Sorrow to Love and to Hope....and then back around to Thanksgiving again.

   I am Blessed

Music, It Stirs the Soul

   "The man that has no music in himself,

   Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,

   Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;

   The motions of his spirit are dull as night,

   And his affections dark as Erebus:

   Let no such man be trusted."

   Shakespeare

   Merchant of Venice

   "When man looks for the nature and majesty of creation, Let him look no further than to consider Music." (Anonymous)

   Through this period of my life, I have been handed and given many things.

   Foods
   Cards
   Kind Words
   Advice

   But the one that has enriched my soul during these days is the gift of music. A friend gave me a CD, featuring the musical selections of a church choir in the Atlanta area.

   Some of the songs and hymns I knew.

   Some were anthems sung in worship with words from Scripture.

   But two made an impact on my life and spoke through the events of these past several weeks, simple songs when you hear the music, but deep with meaning for me in these times.

   My Great God Cares For Me

     Autumn leaves start the dance.                        
     Forest trees clap their hands.                          
     Eagles cry                                                        
     Oceans roar                                                    
     Worshipping the Lord                                    
     I join the praise                                                
     Yet stand amazed                                            
     That God, who's so great                                
     Would know what I need                                
     He's always there                                            
     He hears my prayer                                          
     My Great God Cares For Me
   
     Nations rise, Kingdoms fall
     God reigns high above them all
     Knees will bow
     Tongues confess
     To His holiness
     I join the praise
     Yet stand amazed
     That God who's so great
     Would know what I need
     He's always there
     He hears my prayer
     My Great God Cares For Me
                                   
  Take the time to listen to a version of this song on YouTube:
     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c2XfmoA7GfU

   The other song was entitled Blessings

   Without printing out the whole song, let me give you the chorus, fraught with meaning, especially for me:

   'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
   What if Your healing comes through tears
   And what if a thousand sleepless nights
   Are what it takes to know You're near
   What if my greatest disappointments
   Or the aching of this life
   Is the revealing of a greater thirst
   This world can't satisfy
   And what if the trials of this life
   The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
   Are your mercies in disguise

   Again, you need to listen to the music to get the stirring message of this haunting song. Here it is on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQan9L3yXjc

   Music seems to stir my heart and soul like no other medium. I remember singing with a football crowd after 9/11, God Bless America, and I also get goose bumps when a congregation sings the hymn How Deep the Father's love for us. Music with deep meaning. Same goes for Amazing Grace, especially with bagpipes.

   Why not just sit back and soak it in? I have played these over and over, and have been blessed. Tears come to my eyes when I think of how God has comforted me through music.

   And I am grateful.

A New Day Dawning

   As I sat in church last Sunday morning, just thinking about the changes in my life, and wondering what to do now. Events had kinda closed in on me, and I needed to get some Godly clarification of my situation.

   So I thought, what could I do to get a change of scenery, be alone and have the time to pray and think and whatever else might help. Dwayne came to mind and in particular, his beach house at Kiawah.

   So I called him after I got home, got the OK to use it for a few days this week, packed up and took off for Kiawah, SC.

   Now Dwayne has a nice place there. It is close to the beach with all the perks.

   Oops, this is the house right on the beach across the street. I did not have the code to this one.

   A little smaller, but it was quiet, still had some stuff in the fridge, and was calling my name.

   When I was talking to a friend about the fact that I did not know what to do in some of the situations I faced, and that I kept trying to project some bad scenarios into the future, a verse was mentioned talking about the fact that God's mercies are new every morning. I knew that, but I kept wanting to worry about the bad things that could happen. This became my mantra every new day on this mini retreat.

   So I got up early on Monday morning, taking the path to the beach, which was deserted at this early time, at least an hour before sunrise.

   Sure enough, a new day was coming.

   As I walked north on the beach, at least I thought it was north after consulting the map in my mind, I noticed some weird tracks heading from the waves to the dunes. I had seen some sea turtle nests staked off earlier, and wondered if a mother turtle had laid some eggs in the sand above the tide line.

   Some people, all with green shirts on, were close by and I went to ask the "touristy" question. What was going on?

   They were the turtle patrol, checking the nests that were already marked, and looking for evidence of new ones from the night before. They confirmed that a sea turtle had indeed come up in the night, deposited her eggs and made her way back to the water.

   I'm not sure which tracks are going inland and which are heading back to the sea, but you can see two sets in this shot.

   We have a sea turtle center on Jekyll Island, next door to St. Simons, but this was the first time I had come across tracks in the sand on one of my walks.

   So that was neat, but there was another new day in my future here.

   The next morning, another early walk on the beach, with another dawn in the making over behind the clouds on the horizon, and another discovery.

   After walking south this time for a couple of miles, I turned around to head back to the house and noticed a bunch of people walking from the dunes to the water's edge. There were more of the green shirts in that group, and they stopped near the waters edge, all looking at something.

   The turtle eggs in a nest up in the dunes on that end of the Island had hatched, and the little ones were moving haphazardly toward the ocean. I don't know, and did not ask, if these were the first from the nest or maybe the last, but there were several small sea turtle babes getting ready for an adventure into the ocean waves.

   One day tracks and a new nest, the next a birthing and new lives.

   I don't say that God did that for me, but He did put me in a spot where I could celebrate the beginning of life, the perfect way to experience His new mercies, and the dawning of a New Day of Promise.

   If Sea Turtles can be a sign from The Lord, then I rejoice in a future of New Days, and new mercies crowning each one.

   And I say Thank You, as I walk smiling back to the house.

   And even a little flower pops up to further brighten my day.