Sunflower

"Looking into the Center of the Sun"

copyright Greg Grimsley Creative

In Leiper's Fork

Southwest of Nashville lies the small town of Leiper's Fork. The Fork, as it is called by the locals, is a great place for music, for food, for art and for photos.

When It Rained

Yesterday morning I was sitting in my truck waiting for the rain to let up. It was a heavy rain. The kind of rain that makes rivers on the streets and small ponds in low areas. As I watched the rivers run and ponds fill, I was reminded of a time long ago at my grandparent's house.

Their house was a small house on Matthews Avenue in Sikeston, Missouri. As a child there would be two to three (perhaps more) weekends a year that our family would visit there. On the street outside the front of their house, the road dipped. In this lower area was a storm drain that seemed to always be clogged. When it rained, the water would flow from the east and west into this recess in the street, forming a sizable pond.

Once the rain stopped, I would run outside to stomp and splash in the water. I'd find twigs and float them, as though they were boats. Seven or eight twigs and I'd have an armada. As I grew older and could ride a bike, I'd run a bike through the pond. The faster you hit the water the higher the spray would fly. That was the goal; high and far-reaching spray.

I miss those days. I miss being a kid.

If Only...

I suppose I am willing become a bit more transparent at times with this space. It is easy to do, knowing that not many people read it. That makes it safe.

One of the few things that I set my mind and spirit to this year, that I have actually fulfilled, it to write in my journal every day. And while I have not intention of sharing all that I write there, far far from it, I do find that occasionally there is something there that I may use here. They are not stories or dreams, but reflect on life and how I am feeling at specific times. 

As I have noted in the past, I have a deep sense of wanderlust. As I once told my daughter, "wanderlust can be a cruel trait to live with." It creates an ongoing sense of unsettledness. For me it means an almost constant desire to be somewhere else doing something else instead of being content where I am at with what I am doing. I truly wish I knew what causes this feeling. Why must I seemingly always be in search of something other than what I have, when what I have is pretty good? 

The other day I wrote:

"It seems I am having a day of bemoaning my life; the same old where I am and what I am doing versus where I wish to be and what I wish to do. I won't bother with the details; we've been here many times before. But as I am I writing about this the thought occurred to me, I dream about it but I don't do anything about it. I am not taking specific actions to make any of my dreams into my reality. Yes, I save money to take trips, and in part, that is a specific action I suppose. Though, it is difficult to get excited about it at times.

"In the broad sense, I suppose I am not much different that most everyone else; in that, we live our lives day in and day out and there really isn't that much remarkable about it. At least I think that is how most people live. And I suppose I just get used to the reality that that this pretty much the way life is supposed to be. We're not meant to be on adventures, or living a life full of excitement twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. We probably couldn't handle it and, in time, that too would become boring. Though, being back in missions and being back in England would fit the bill for adventure and excitement in some respects. 

"I guess I am just in that thoughtful place where I don't want to live many more days, or reach the end of my days and find that the words I use to describe my life are 'if only.' I want my days, however many more God intends for me to have, to be something more. I am not searching for the profound, but for something that will occasionally bookend the stream of days in and days out with a 'Wow! Now that was something.'"

Journal Entry: Saturday, 9 August

I woke up too early this morning with my thoughts on _______ and his _______.

_______ is the second friend I have lost to cancer within a year. First there was ______. Now _______. Then yesterday I learned that my friend _______ _______, who has been fighting stomach cancer for over a year, has been admitted to hospital so that he can fed intravenously. These past two weeks he has been in intense pain and has been unable to eat much at all.

_______ is another who we can take encouragement from. He has a thirst for life and refuses to give up or give in.

When I consider these things, I do not have any desire to shout and wave my fist at God demanding an answer to why things like this happen. I don't. We are but temporary residents in a fallen world, and in this world tragic things will come to good people. Our duty, our course, our race, is to live a life that points others to Christ -- to inspire others to live life in such a way that inspires.

When I consider my friends, the two who have run their races and the one who is still running, I am inspired! I have learned something, many things, from all three of these gentlemen that I wish to carry forward as I continue to live out my days. If I can do that, the quality and richness of my days will be increased.

Lord, I thank You and praise You for absent friends and those friends whose company I am blessed to still cherish.

Once Upon A Time

There once was a time when, 
all I could dream of was
to go the beach.
To walk along the shore.
To sit on the deck,
or the balcony, and
listen to the surf.
To stare off into infinity
for hours at a time.

I would dream of 
what it would be like 
to live on the beach.

There once was a time when,
all I could dream of was
the Magic Kingdom, Epcot,
Hollywood Studios and 
the Animal Kingdom.
To walk along the lanes 
and the out of the way paths.
To sit on a bench, or perhaps 
at a table, and 
listen to the parks.
To listen to my heart
and be a child once more.

I would dream of
what it would be like
to live near the parks.

Now, all I seem to dream of 
is to be back in England.
To walk on the streets of London, or in the parks
(Hyde, Kensington, Green, St. James),
along well-worn, aged streets.
To sit at a table in
the Covent Garden, 
listening to classical music.
To be only a few hours away
from the southwest coast, 
or the City of Light.
Always surrounded by, and 
listening to the sounds of the city.

I dream of
what it would be like
to live in England (again).

A field near the Ambion Wood along the

Ashby de la Zouch Canal

Margins X

"Between the impossible and the impractical is where imagination lives."
                                                                                        ~ Unknown

"Now Why Don't He Write?"

I have spent the weekend searching for a quote that I wanted to use in the resuscitation of this blog. It was something John Lennon said as he came out of retirement for the release of his Double Fantasy album. I didn’t find it. But it spoke about how he spent five years raising his son, baking bread, and so forth. He spoke of how he survived the chaos of his past and he is doing fine. He asked how we were doing. Did we make it as well?

Since I couldn’t find the exact quote, I’ll borrow a line from the film Dances with Wolves. Finding a sun bleached skeleton on the prairie, the disgusting Timmons says, “I’ll bet someone back east is going, ‘Now why don’t he write?’”

Over these past few months I could have been that sun bleached skeleton. I haven’t written and I have offered no explanation as to why.

____________________

Writing for me is highly personal. Most of what I write is contained in a number of journals that I have kept through the years. I have a few other notebooks that I’ll make notes in and one for recording quotes that I have read or heard that mean something to me. But writing for public consumption does not come easy. Here are three contributing factors. 

One. My grammar is not always the best. In school I excelled in creative writing, where style and form were subservient to content. Yet when grammar, sentence structure, and all that other ilk were required, I’d see my grades decline. Then, and now, I write the way I wish to write and it doesn’t really bother me if how I write is proper or improper. Two. While what I write is interesting to me, it may not be to others. I began this knowing that it would have a very limited audience. So at times I wonder why should I bother.  Not many people are reading it. Three. I set for myself an unrealistic goal of publishing something every week. It was brutal keeping up and placed unneeded stress on me. Needing to find relief with the busyness of life, this was an easy thing to set aside.

Now, I find that I miss it. I enjoyed sharing little facets of my life. Living in a time when our oral histories are lost as generations pass and memories fade, writing here (and in my other places) is a way to preserve some that history; for my children, my grandchildren, and anyone else who may be interested. 

I am not a person who makes resolutions at the New Year. This isn’t to say that I don’t set goals, I do. Example. I know I need to lose weight. But saying I am going to join a gym and go three times a week so that I can lose such and such amount of weight does  not work for me. Yes, I need to exercise. Still I know that this level of commitment is not a real priority for me. What does work is a daily awareness to eat better and eat less. Where and when possible, I will exercise. 

I set a goal to wake up at 5:30 each weekday morning and spend time in prayer and Bible study. This is happening and it is making a great difference in how I go through my day. I am happier, focused and energized to face the day ahead. I am ashamed that I didn’t do this years ago. 

I have set a goal to read more this year. On 31 December I set out twelve books I plan to read this year (see reading tab). Mixed into those twelve is Thoreau’s Walden and an assortment of literary anthologies that I’ll read from occasionally.  

Somewhere in mix of that is going on I’ll manage to draw a bit and work on my photography.

I’ll endeavor to live in each day, with a glance every now and then towards the future.

Then, there is this. It crossed my mind Friday that I need to return to this space from time to time to share a story. I am not going to change the format. It isn’t moving in a different direction. I will only write when it suits me and I am feeling inspired to do so and it will not be weekly. It will simply be me sharing a thought, a memory, a quote, a dream, a photograph, or an experience with my family and friends.

Thank you for sticking with me. I apologize for the absence, but hope you understand.

~ g