Make a careful examination of this picture. This tree grows on top of a rock pillar on the shore of Lake Superior in the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. Through wind and water erosion, all of the surrounding rock has disappeared, leaving this tree on top. And just to the left are several sizable roots that stretch to a place where the tree can receive nourishment. This popular attraction on Lake Superior may even be in "Ripley's Believe It or Not" for all I know. A seed took root a long time ago in far different circumstances and grew into a tree that is dependent upon its lifeline. How long will it survive this way?

I think it's kind of a fun image that reveals that we do not live alone. We need to be connected to thrive.

The Gospel lesson for today is Matthew 22:15-22 and tells of a time when Jesus was asked by opposing groups (Pharisees and Herodians) if one should pay taxes to the emperor Caesar. If he says "yes", he offends the Pharisees who hate all that the Romans symbolize, and if he answers "no", he will be reported as a traitor by the Herodians who collaborate with the emperor. So he asks for a coin and further inquires whose image and title is on the coin. The crowd responds that it is Caesar, the emperor. Then Jesus answers, "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's and give God what is God's." The query is not resolved because the riddle is extended with an implicit question: what belongs to God?

The question is enormous. I met this boy in Monrovia, Liberia in February, 2008. If he is alive, he is at the edge of young adulthood. If I knew his name then, I do not remember it now. I have this photo framed in my study. I see him staring back at me every day. He belongs to God as I do, made in the image of God as I am. When I ponder the dangers of Ebola and poverty and violence and malaria and hunger and ignorance, I realize that he is in more peril than I. Some voices say his life is not as valuable as those of us who have money in our pockets. And though he lives outside our borders, he belongs to God. We all do.

I was on a photo tour and the group was all photographing a barn to the east of us when I was interrupted by a tree that shouted to me. I turned around and saw the scene below. I moved over to another vantage point to be interested in a wholly different subject. The tree was in bright sunlight while the hill behind was in a combination of clouds and sun. I like how the angle of the hill in the foreground matches the angle of the hill in the background. As I look at it some more, I think I might crop the upper portion of the image but including the sunlit slope. And maybe not.

I have to tell you what this is because there are not enough visual clues to help one decipher it, and what there is present is likely confusing. It is an old railroad wheel that was cast in Marshall, Texas. There is some kind of colorful algae growing on the metal surface. The wheel appears to have been in this location for some years. If I had photographed the entire wheel, I dare say that all or most could correctly identify it. But focusing on just a portion that has colors and details that one would not expect adds mystery.

This stairway looked ancient and I felt more secure climbing the stairs than descending them. The proprietor invited us into his store which seemed to have as much of its share of junk as it did treasures. He was difficult to understand, his voice low, the sentences he spoke rambled. But he was proud of the art within, artists of the Ozarks from nearly 100 years ago. The prices were too high for us, even if we saw something we might have liked. And then he opened an old trunk and began to show drawings of a nude woman that he claimed was the wife of the historic artist. Who was this person that he talked incessantly about and whose art, sculpture and paintings, dominated the two buildings of his "collection"? We looked up the name on the internet later, Louis Freund, and found that indeed the artist was a prolific, well-known artist of the area. But why was it here and who was the shop keeper? Maybe it was Mr. Freund himself and we had entered a time warp down a side street in Eureka Springs.

"The crystal clear water has flowed out of this rocky hillside for centuries, at the very least." We were near the fountain at the center of Eureka Springs when we overheard a guide explain to her group that native Americans came to this spot before the American Revolution. The water of the springs was claimed to heal visitors from all kinds of afflictions. And I counted nearly 10 springs located on the tourist map. From deep underground the water bubbled through the rocks. I saw this leaf floating in the sparkling water of the fountain.

Is there any music left in these old trumpets? They are bundled together and sitting on the porch of Mitchell's Folly in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. It's not possible to play any of these anymore. The valves are missing in all of them as well as the tuning slides and the mouthpieces. No more jazz, no more marching tunes, no more blues, and no more swing.

Ah, but could there be memories of music somewhere lingering in these old horns? Tunes that cause you to tap your toe, sway your body, clap your hands? These old discarded trumpets are just a stack of metal without the breath, the spirit, of musicians. You won't hear musical magic without the skilled people (no matter how old). Musicians still have (always have) music within them that needs to get out in their very breath. These old trumpets may not have any music left, but they share the memory of being filled with musical energy.

When I return home, I plan on working on this photo to see if I can express more fully the memory of that energy.

I saw this contraption in Eureka Springs last week. I suspect that it had something to do with a steam powered water pump that was nearby and might have been some kind of water distribution system. The collection of valves could be utilized in such a way as to send water to different destinations. But all of those connections were long gone. It did remind me that we always have options to resolve the situations in which we may find ourselves. There is more than one answer, more than one solution, more than one option. We have hope. I imagine you thought of hope when you saw this collection of valves.