I'm taking one. You take one too.

1967. Judy and I had been dating for four months. Her dad had a 1966 Mustang, V-8, four speed manual transmission. And he had loaned it to us to go to St. Louis to see the fireworks. I remember sitting on the river levee below the Arch, watching fireworks being launched from a barge in the middle of the Mississippi River. We oohed and aahed with every burst in the sky. For years we kept a tally of where we were on the Fourth of July. It has ranged from Stone Mountain, Georgia to Bayfield, Wisconsin to Colorado Springs. What I remember most was trying not to stall the Mustang on the ramp of the bridge going into St. Louis, so it wouldn't roll backward into the car behind us. Driving a "stick" is one of those skills you don't forget, but I hadn't practiced that much, especially on hills. Made for a memorable challenge.

And then I remember we bought Elke her first car, a "hot" Probe with a stick and she lurched and jerked all around the parking lot (just like we all did while learning) and then I kissed her good-bye as she drove off to Dallas. (hoping she wouldn't have trouble, and this is before the days of cellphones--imagine that!) Lots of memories with fireworks. Nowdays, we just use sparklers! Have a Happy (and safe) Fourth!

For the photographers in the audience: 6 second exposure at f/11, iso 200 with a tripod. This is NOT a layered or multiple exposure.

Post processing, I decreased exposure 1/2 stop and boosted clarity and saturation.

It's difficult to untangle a mess by yourself or quickly or without damage.

There are some complications that one can straighten out through careful, determined persistence. But I have found that it's important to seek help from others. They may have experienced the same mess, and know the way out. Other times, their assistance is needed for it takes more than two hands or ten fingers or one mind. But most importantly, the veterans know there is an end in sight, it can turn out well, that the wounds will heal, and that forgiveness is real. Prayer and grace are not magic, but they can work a miracle. And often do. Even in a mess, blessings abound.

By the way, this is a photo of the Ryman Auditorium, in downtown Nashville.

Judy wondered why I wanted to stop and take a photo at this fishing pond just outside Cherokee, N.C. I just couldn't help myself when I saw the highlighted fishing lures snagged on this power line. Actually, this is only a small part of the snafu and not the only power line that was decorated with abandoned fishing lures. Do you suppose someone, anyone, said, "Now be careful casting out this way. There's a power line up there"? Our best efforts can get us caught in difficult circumstances, even when we see that there could be a problem. I've gotten snagged. Maybe you have too.

Now there are a million things you can say about people who fish. And they are all true.

I notice that this photo says a lot about persistence. And about trying again. And learning. And what it means to catch and be caught.

Sometimes it feels like a re-start would be in order.

Today is one of those where I might want to request a new dawn, another opportunity to start the day over.

I'm thankful that I have received lots of do-overs. I believe in grace.

I want to practice it daily, as well.

I retired two years ago today. I am hearing more frequently that it appears to agree with me, or "You're looking happy!"

Sunday afternoon as I was waiting for our kids to come home from their vacation, I was going through my photos in Lightroom and adding keywords to those that had none: it makes a picture easier to find if one has some identifying words associated with the image. And I noticed some photos of me from the fall of 2005. I should have looked well, as I had just completed a summer Sabbath. But I had returned to my work only to have to deal with the misbehavior of a pastor and an angry congregation. I looked weary, old, overweight, did I say tired. I was good at what I did, but it had begun to wear on me after four years. It was a difficult time, but I had a Bishop and cabinet colleagues that were supportive in every way. I rarely have experienced Christian community like I did when I served on the Cabinet.

Today, I weigh less, much less. I am happier. I enjoy my family, my new church, my life of leisure. When I compare photos, I wonder who that guy was in those old pictures?

Our house is surrounded with blackberries. They are in the house-less lot next door. They are near the pond just over the hill. They are beyond the back fence and throughout the meadow where we see deer in the winter. We think this is nearly paradise and Judy adds another reason every once in a while. This year it is blackberries.

Our first summer it was too hot and dry, but this summer is making up for it. She was even inspired to write a poem about what blackberry picking evokes in her. Memories of family and sweetness and hope. Almost the makings of a Eucharistic meal.

I need to add ice cream. Remember I have a sweet tooth.

Now that title sounds trite. Judy had gone to the lot next door to check on the status of the ripening wild blackberries. They are big and juicy and the crop is begging to be picked. But she also came back to the house to report that there was Passion Flower blooming "everywhere." Who can miss a photo opportunity like that?

The funny thing is that we grew Passion Flower in our flower boxes on the shed last year, but this year was not going well. And here they were on the other side of the fence blooming in numerous places. And large bumblebees were busy gathering pollen, submerging themselves in the structure of the blossom, nearly hidden from view. Milkweed, among other flowers, is also blooming next door and attracting the attention of bees.

The bees didn't notice me, although I had the camera quite close. They were busy with their task, and rarely sat still. While I found the photography enjoyable, I suspect I'm not the only one who likes to watch someone else work.