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.

How many times was it "almost"? I nearly got the shot, great subject, correct exposure, but not quite. I've got a whole bunch of "almost": photos and sermons and projects and good intentions.

I'm glad I'm not evaluated by God by my list of "almost".

By the way, this is almost a photo of a Roseate Spoonbill, in flight. Nice shot of the wings and feet!

Rivers 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.

We 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.