I learned to tie my shoes in the first grade. Obviously, my first grade teacher wasn't going to tie my shoes or those of my classmates every day or several times a day. Shoes have had shoelaces for probably about 5500 years, although it is difficult to document as shoes were an expendable item that fell apart with time and use.

I still find it a challenge to keep them tied. I have a pair of hiking boots that I have to double-knot to ensure that the laces stay tied. It makes me feel like a kid. I used to take off my shoes without untying them--still do, once in a while (probably more often than I realize). And then the next time I want to wear them, they have to be untied before I can put them on and tie the shoelaces again. It is a simple procedure, and a simple skill. How many thousand times have I tied my shoes or tied the shoes of my kids or my granddaughter or countless children at church? Some skills just stick with you. 

Swirled and scratched and etched. Marked.

I am embraced and touched and encouraged and forgiven. Marked.

These corner pieces no longer bond together. They used to fit tightly together and needed the other for strength. But in separating, the bond has weakened and, without repair, will eventually fall apart. Neglect has broken many things and eroded many relationships.

I have made the cyber leap, well, maybe. I have a smartphone (okay, it's an older iPhone). I have a Kindle Fire HD with books and magazines and weather radar and maps, all of which I can summon with a moment's notice. We have several computers from a big desktop, to a laptop, to an iPad. But there is still something I'm looking for: hardbound books!

Actually, books that are in better condition than those depicted in the photo above. During this past year we built a shelf unit that you may know about from previous communications, or possibly you have seen how it stretches across the room and is 12 feet tall. It takes up a lot of space and has lots of room for items. The top two shelves are mostly for the display of photos. But there are numerous shelves that can hold books and books. I've probably given away more books than I have kept with the vocational transitions during the last dozen years of my professional life. I still have a lot of books. And I'm looking for more.

On those shelves, there are books of favorite authors and familiar stories and collections of photographs and other books yet to be enjoyed. Books are a connection of my learning to read that very first word with ideas, and inspiration, and imagination, and remembrances.  I have learned a ton of things and mastered skills from books: sailing, photography, electrical wiring. I've been inspired by books and changed by books. My world is bigger because of books. And long before I could buy books, I rode my bicycle for miles to borrow them from the Carnegie Library in Kokomo, Indiana. So, I'm still looking for some books. I've got room.

What does contentment look like? Listening to a favorite song? Watching the sun set? Riding a bike? Surrounded by loved ones? Having permission to be yourself? Feeling one with nature? Heading for home? Dancing inside your spirit? Having someone to love and to be loved?

Two tall, large metal cylinders stand on the sidewalk outside the Sidney and Berne Davis Art Center in downtown Fort Myers, Florida.

To see it more clearly, I have reversed my image because the letters are cut for a different purpose into the side of the sculpture by Washington, D.C. artist, Jim Sanborn. At night the columns project the letters onto the face of the building that are both Native American names and Latin titles of the plants of southwest Florida. Obviously, I have to go back at night. Still I was captivated by the cylinders of letters with their fascinating relationships, another "almost" moment. Still, amazing.

At first glance, it is rather perplexing. The letters are backwards, the words are hard to comprehend. And then they are projected onto the building for all to read. The light brings the words to "life".

But is it fixed?

The store in Huntsville, Alabama is over 100 years old. I suspect that the floor is original. And one day, somebody patched a hole in the floor. It's been there a long time, conforming to the boards below with the gaps, seams, and hole accentuated. I've noticed around my house that temporary fixes become permanent, and I don't even see the patch anymore. But this patch caught my attention because I was seeing it for the first time. It's fixed. There's not a big hole in the floor after all. It's adding to the character of the old store. In fact, it's not the only patch. And when there are two or three or four, they add to the atmosphere of the place. So, honey, that unpainted, unfinished drywall patch high on the hallway wall--that just adds character to our home. You won't even notice it in a few more years!

I have always liked the way that strong sunlight can light up a subject and leave the background dark.

This is a late afternoon shot with the sun shining into the back of these daylilies. The sun is just above the trees in my back yard creating a black background with the shade of the large trees. Sometimes the leaves of the trees are radiant with the setting sun, but I enjoy isolating a subject, like these flowers, that seems to have caught the radiance of the sun, making the scene almost magical.

What makes this picture attractive to me is the contrast of light and dark. The intense color certainly helps, but the difference between light and dark is accentuated. The dark makes the light pop, and the bright colors stand in contrast to the dark background. It doesn't take much light to create a contrast with the shadowed darkness. So it is with our lives. We need just a little light, and the darkness recedes. Just a little brightness can make the gloom disappear.