Beyond Day SixMy sometimes-daily blog of a photograph or two with a few words, celebrating all the days of life that flow through creation into perspiration, inspiration, reflection, sabbath, and resurrection. Rise and FallRivers fluctuate in depth. The picture below is of the Mississippi River near the I-270 bridge when it was unusually low.
The sandbar is extensive. But today, the river is at flood stage and the sandbars are deep below the surface. They are still there, although they are being reshaped by the river's current. When exposed again, they will not look like this. Moments include texture and lighting and shapes, and even emotions. A photo captures only the present moment. I am mesmerized by the river. When the Ohio River flooded and I lived just a few blocks from its banks, I visited the rising water every day. When will it stop? How high will it go? There is no stopping it. People sandbag their homes and businesses to prevent damage, but cannot will the water to recede. The level will eventually fall. The sandbars will be visible again. And we will pretend it won't happen again. Mid-SeasonWe are nearing the All-Star break, halfway through the season, still time to hope for more victories than losses. Hope is still present.
Our daylilies began blooming more than a month ago. Some have finished for the summer. Others have yet to start. We expect to have blooms for another five or six weeks, maybe longer. Some, like "Mini Pearl", are starting to bloom for the second time. And others, like "Wisteria" above, have only a few days remaining. We are looking forward to the surprise of daylilies we have not yet seen, and some we are just not sure what they are. We have hope. We expect to be surprised. It ain't over until it's over. And there's always next year. When I first became a superintendent and would visit congregations in the northern part of the state of Illinois, I was often asked, "Are you a Cubs fan?" They meant Chicago Cubs, and they could tell by the delay in my response that I was not a Cubs fan. If I'm going to wax on about hope, I think it best to stop right there. Looking UpI notice clouds. I suspect that it's easier to notice them if you look up, instead of down.
Reminds me of a story of one of my seminary professors who was an astonishing optimistic, hopeful man. One morning, one of the spouses was having a challenging day, everything had gone wrong. It was a dismal day, and she noticed, regrettably, that the cheerful professor was approaching her. She didn't want to talk to him; she expected some kind of conversation that she just wanted to avoid. But as he came near, he simply pointed up in the sky, and said to her, "Do you see the rainbow?" and went on his way. She hadn't noticed, but it changed her day to consider its brightness as it stretched across the sky. Looking up can change one's perspective. I see a feather. I need to look up more. Marshmallow MemoriesClouds like marshmallows. I always think we need some chocolate.
We had just stepped outside a shop in the Amana Colonies (in Iowa). I remember (does Judy?) that we bought silver earrings for her in that shop. I loved the rolling hills, and the trees, and the giant marshmallow clouds. I read recently that folks who take photos don't recall as much of their trip as those who "focus" on the experience and don't take a picture. Hmm... I've got thousands of photos, all (or almost all) with memories of what I did and who I was with and what fun I had. My motto is "take a picture, now and later. The next one may be even better!" Actually, I think I remember the experience better with a photo. Now, did I miss something because I was looking through my camera? Probably. Guess those were the marshmallows. I only remember the chocolate. Oops, not so fast. Judy said it was a ring for her finger. Oh, well. Fire in the Sky1967. 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. Blessings in the MessIt'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. Snagged
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. New Dawn RequestedSometimes 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. Looks Good on YouI 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? |
