high roads

“The high road is something very, very long, of which one cannot see
the end – like human life, like human dreams.
There is an idea in the open road,
but what sort of idea is there in travelling with posting tickets?
Posting tickets mean an end to ideas.
Vive la grande route and then as God wills.”

Fyodor Dostoyevsky


(on the road to Crater Lake, Oregon / Julie Cook / 2013)

Why should we opt to take the high road in life?

Because it is becoming more and more a road less traveled.

Why should we opt to take the high road in life?

Because our mothers, fathers, grandparents, teachers once told us to.

Why should we opt to take the high road in life?

Because taking the high road never means that we’re better than anyone else,
it just means that we’re working that much harder at bettering ourselves.

The high road is a more difficult climb.
The high road is much harder to traverse.
The high road will push us to our limits.
The high road is what we want our children to take.

Yet the high road takers are most often scoffed at by those on the lower roads.
The high road takers are most often forgotten by those on the lower roads.
Because the high road is often very lonely…

Yet the examples of those low road moments are far too numerous these days…

A most recent example was just the other day when a senator from New York was
addressing a crowd at New York University and opted to use her time with a
captive young audience by offering a profanity laced speech about the current
President.
The F word was front and center throughout her speech…
as she flippantly told the crowd that
“it’s okay, because this is a younger audience.”

No, Madame Senator that doesn’t make it ok for you to be lazy with your
choice of words in order to simply make an impact, to shock or garner generational points.
It does not make it okay for you to be trite, foul, offensive,
or seemingly one with your more impressionable audience.
For by taking this lower road, this easier road, you insult the intelligence
of your audience by opting to lower yourself and your standards by dumbing down your
address.

It is never okay to season a delivery with profanity because by doing so
cheapens ones words and ones true meaning.
It is a delivery of less than rather than of real substance

It is to those sound adults who these youthful ones must look as they seek examples
of what they should aspire to emulate.
Examples of grace, dignity, restraint, humility are much more preferable to anger,
crudeness, bitterness as well as a lack of decorum and respect.

Because it takes very little effort and is exceedingly easy to simply drop one’s
self lower rather than exerting the necessary energy to raise everyone else up.
And in so doing a disservice is done to everyone.
Because opting to take the lower road is in actuality a thinly veiled self serving act.

As that is exactly what we are witnessing—a society that prefers to go lower rather
than higher…because it’s the easiest path of the perceived least resistance.

So why should we opt to that higher road?
For it is the high road that helps us to reach our fullest potential as a human being.
And in so doing by taking that higher road,
we do so while following Christ as he carries his cross up the hill of Golgotha.

Lord, who may dwell in your sacred tent?
Who may live on your holy mountain?
The one whose walk is blameless,
who does what is righteous,
who speaks the truth from their heart;
whose tongue utters no slander,
who does no wrong to a neighbor,
and casts no slur on others;
who despises a vile person
but honors those who fear the Lord;
who keeps an oath even when it hurts,
and does not change their mind;
who lends money to the poor without interest;
who does not accept a bribe against the innocent.
Whoever does these things
will never be shaken.

Psalm 15

Be careful what you ask for. . .

“You cannot always depend on prayers to be answered the way you want them answered but you can always depend on God. God, the loving Father often denies us those things which in the end would prove harmful to us. Every boy wants a revolver at age four, and no father yet has ever granted that request. Why should we think God is less wise? Someday we will thank God not only for what He gave us, but also for that which He refused.”
― Fulton J. Sheen

“For prayer is request. The essence of request, as distinct from compulsion, is that it may or may not be granted.”
― C.S. Lewis

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(a practice shot of a toadstool with the new macro lens / Julie Cook / 2015)

Stressed and stretched as far as your limit allows, you decide praying for patience is your only hope.
Oddly life only seems to get worse.
You then try praying for even more patience.
Life gets almost unbearable.
Confused and troubled, it finally dawns on you. . .

God is no fairy godmother waving a magic wand.

There is no heavenly magic Fraiy-God holding a wand over our heads, granting us our heart’s desire.
God is no genie hiding in a lamp waiting to grant wishes.
As much as we wish He worked that way, jumping in to give us magically what we decide we need, He does not.
Praying for patience results in circumstances requiring more patience—call it a heavenly learning curve if you will, as our lives are indeed all about learning and growing.

Enter my latest learning curve.

I thought I knew what I really wanted for Christmas.
A brand new camera.
Oooooo
I’ve always had a little camera of sorts over the years.
When I was growing up, my dad was always into cameras— so naturally, starting when I was around 10, I had my very own small kodak. Remember those flash cubes?
Eventually I graduated to a 35mm when I was in high school–that was back in the day when we actually used real film, had to focus a camera ourselves and attach an expensive flash attachment.

Enter the digital age–an age I have reluctantly dared to venture.

A trusty, ever evolving, automatic point and shoot has basically filled my needs—a camera to take pictures of our son growing up, family trips and vacations, gatherings of friends etc.—-and like the proverbial watch, any camera of mine would need to take a licking and keep on ticking as I tend to be a tad rough on things.

As I got older, I eventually retired from teaching and my sights turned to new forms of creativity.

With newly added gusto, I picked up my camera, started taking pictures and started this little blog of mine.
That was 2 years ago February.

Forever a stickler for detail, I have always loved those closeup magnified images of the simplest objects. Images of random things such as bugs and flowers, items both animate and inanimate, magnified to offer the viewer a zoomed-in hyper image of detail—it’s that wow factor of photography. I suppose that’s why I have such an affinity for the illuminated manuscripts of the Middle ages with their beautiful tiny attentions to detail. And whereas I am no longer really painting or working on my own version of those manuscripts, I am, however, seeking detail—just in a more photographic approach.

Enter a desire for macro.

Frustrated by the fact that my latest Nikon point and shoot could only zoom up on closeup objects just so much, I decided I needed to expand my horizons.
However. . .a new camera would require some learning and adjusting.
It should be known that I am a fierce creature of habit (be quiet Sophie)
I am far from being a camera pro.
I don’t know apertures, shutter speeds, back lighting, yada, yada.
I am no techie.
No pintrest, no instagram, no flicker, no twitter, no facebook.
I don’t like complicated.
I like simple.
I like easy.
I like pure.
Hummmm

I set my sites on a Sony Ax 5100. It would require the ability to change out the lens of the camera.
Hummmm. . .
The camera would still be smallish, sleek and automatic to a certain degree. . .I could certainly change out a lens or two right?

I’ve looked at this particular little camera on and off for about a year now at BestBuy (don’t go there, that’s another post for another day)

I had used a Sony in my classroom and was pretty certain I wanted another one now.
I called Sony.
I explained my level of knowledge—that being low.
I explained my wants in photography.
I explained my likes and dislikes in my current camera.
The kind Sony lady told that the 5100 should do the trick.
Next I wrote down all of the info on a piece of paper (price, order numbers, phone numbers) that I then, not so discreetly, left for my husband to find, and with fingers crossed, he would utilize as his shopping list for my Christmas gift.

On Christmas morning, much to my excitement, I opened a package that contained what I just knew had to be my camera!!!
It was a camera,but wait, this wasn’t the one I had written down.
This was a 6000
What?!
AAAGGGGGHHHHHH
In my husband’s very big but misdirected heart, he figured bigger was better and should not I, his wife deserve, the bigger which obviously equates to better camera? There is sweetness in that thinking but it doesn’t help in detailed specifics.
Lets just say a 6000 is for more of a picture taking aficionado and not the queen of point, shoot, click.
UGH.

Add to the now huge unanticipated learning curve of a very fancy smancy camera that came with one lens attached, along with a macro lens found hiding in another package, as now neither of the two lens could zoom up on far way images, like the birds and deer I so like to stalk with a camera, not like my now old Nikon—hence another lens would be required–making a total of 3 lens.
Ugh.

Enter frustration.

Do you know how to hide disappointment on your face?
I do not.
Which in turn leads to disappointment in the gift giver, aka my husband, who is still trying to figure out why bigger is not better.
I now need a third lens.
May I just say lens are not cheap, with some of them costing 3 to 4 times the cost of the freaking camera.
UGH
Christmas night found us online seeking one more lens.
It should be here tomorrow.

In the meanwhile. . .

Today, after the holiday fracas has finally and slowly subsided as the Christmas company has all departed, returning back home, with Life now slowly beginning to regain its routine, I settled into the studying of this new camera.

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A couple of practice shots with the macro lens appear promising yet tells me that there is still much more to be practiced and learned, yet I did feel a hopeful tinge of excitement edging out the disappointed frustration.

Enter the pink tiny crab.
He was on a small twig of driftwood I found on Oregon’s Cannon Beach a summer ago. He was deceased but preserved perfectly. I brought him home. Who knew he still had sand specks stuck on his body?!

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How about a small dried piece of shelf fungus. . .

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So as I continue this uncomfortable yet productive journey of learning, I am reminded that with any sort of wanting and asking, there will always be responsibilities attached to such, there will be many lessons to be learned, practice and skills will have to be experienced and mastered, as there will be frustration and work.

Things should not always come easy to us.
Things should stretch us, mould us, move us.
God made us to be entities that can learn and grow, evolve and grow.
We are not stagnant creatures.
Yet learning and growing is not easy nor is it always meant to be comfortable.
Beginning the acquisition of any new skill is hard and tough yet the satisfaction of mastering something challenging, not being given or magically granted success but rather toiling, sweating and fighting over it all, is certainly oh so sweet.

So on this new Monday of this new week, of this new month and of this brand new year, make certain that the next time you ask for or wish for something— you’re willing to roll up your sleeves and are willing to be challenged, pushed and pulled mentally as well as physically. Trust me, you’ll be the better for it in the long run.
Now where’s that other new lens. . .

The Journey

“Sometimes it’s the journey that is more important than the end result—“
quote by Julie Cook and countless others who have voiced a similar observation

“Be of good cheer. Do not think of today’s failures, but of the success that may come tomorrow. You have set yourselves a difficult task, but you will succeed if you persevere; and you will find a joy in overcoming obstacles. Remember, no effort that we make to attain something beautiful is ever lost.”
― Helen Keller

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(McKenzie Pass Lava flow Oregon / Julie Cook / 2012)

(I’ve written about our son before and of his struggles in school.
Today my thoughts are of him as well as with him on this particular Saturday and of a potentially life changing test.
Today I am transported back to a life, many years ago, and to what it has taken to get us all to this particular day. . .)

I have had, in the back of my mind, the intention of writing a certain post one day. . .a post in the not so distant future. . .a post that is to come most likely, hopefully, in a couple of months, a little later down the road. . .
. . .and yet. . .
It is today in which these thoughts seem to be percolating up to the surface and laying claim to both my thoughts and my heart.

One thing I’ve learned during the course of my life is that if you’re thinking and or feeling things–those internal nudgings, pushing’s and tiny alarms which sound deep in the recesses of heart and soul, it’s best not to put them off, not to push them aside until there seems to be sufficient “time” in which to address them—it is important, perhaps even dire, to address, examine, act and embrace such thoughts now, today. . .

Come December, our son will turn 26.
That in itself is difficult for my aging mind to comprehend.

He arrived in this world a week earlier than predicted—thankfully.
“They” had given me a due date of Christmas day. At the time the thought of having a baby born on Christmas was overwhelming for all sorts of reasons. I certainly didn’t want to be in a hospital on Christmas, I wanted to be home. My mom had passed away three years prior so I was a bit afraid of entering motherhood all on my own with little to no advice or direction. My husband owned a retail business. Christmas was his busiest time of the year. Would he even be able to enjoy the birth of his first born (and unbeknownst to us at the time, our only born). I certainly didn’t want our child’s birth to be overshadowed by business, nor by the madness known as the marketing of, by our consumer driven Society, of Christmas.

Our son was born with a slight case of jaundice which later was oddly attributed to being breast fed.
He also had a difficult time keeping any nourishment down without vomiting.
By 3 months he was admitted to Eggleston Children’s Hospital for extensive tests.
From the onslaught of constantly vomiting, he had developed internal bleeding and an ulcerated esophagus.
He was prescribed medication along with a specialized formula that was thickened with oatmeal in order to help “keep it all down”

His eating habits, to this day, are picky at best.
Other than those early struggles with nourishment and being on the low end of the growth chart, he appeared happy and relatively healthy.

By the time he was a year old, he had developed those growing life skills parents thankfully tick off on the long list of growing accomplishments.
He smiled.
He cooed.
He laughed.
He rolled over.
He sat up.
He cut teeth.
He uttered little words (“da da” was the first word—why that is, after all the work done by the mother, the first word is “da da” is beyond my soul, but I digress)
He crawled, fist on his belly, then up on all fours–
However those precarious teetering first steps to walking were yet to be seen.

We fretted when he didn’t walk until he was 15 months old.
Naturally we were concerned because all the other babies his age had been walking, many, for several months. Yet thankfully that skill eventually came to fruition much to our relief.

All seemed well.
He attended preschool seemingly happy to be with other children, as he was an only child.
He was sweet with a gentle spirit accented by a vivid imagination. I think children who have no siblings and do not live in a neighborhood alongside constant playmates tend to develop a wonderful sense of creativity and keen imagination.

It was’t until he entered kindergarten that a red flag was hoisted up the pole of a parent’s fear.
His teacher called us in for a meeting as she wanted to let us know that she had some concerns—
She had decided that there was one or two things going on. . .either our child was “gifted” as his vocabulary and verbal skills were off the charts— yet, he wasn’t reading, his writing was not on par with his peers nor was his ability to spell simple words— she therefore sensed something was a rye.
She recommended we have him tested.

We took our son to a child psychologist for a battery of tests. Time will not permit me to elaborate on the worries which clouded our world during this time. The short of this long story is that he was diagnosed with a learning disability in written expression, a slight case of dyslexia coupled by ADD with the area of contention being an inability to stay “focused”. Plus his fine motor skills were slightly impaired.

As the psychologist explained, she did not think our son would ever be able to participate successfully in team sports due to the trouble with his fine motor skills, my husband had tears streaming down his cheeks–not because he was disappointed that his only son would most likely not ever follow in the steps of his own athletic prowess, but rather that he felt his son would perhaps miss out on so much of what it means to be a part of something bigger than himself, that of a team working toward a unified and single goal.

Yet it was for our own small team, our small family of three, to work toward the goal of getting him reading plus finding a place of success in school.

I racked my brain over what I had or had not done when I was pregnant. What had I perhaps done inadvertently to our child? Lots of unfounded guilt coupled with lots of worry for an unknown future engulfed us for many years.

The struggle and climb were both long and arduous.
There was the summer spent driving back and forth daily to a special school in Atlanta that worked specially with kids who had dyslexia and learning disabilities.
There were the countless tutors, the endless meetings with teachers, the tears, the frustrations, the long nights working for tiny and minuscule gains, the isolation of working day after day, night after night, alone all under the worried and weary eyes of a mom and dad.

Our son had to pour all energies into his studies, there was little time for anything but school. No fun after school with friends, no time for sports, no time for leisure. . .there wasn’t much time for the building of close bonds and friendships.
He grew tired, overwhelmed, frustrated and burned out.
We too grew weary and frustrated, yet we continued working and pushing–often moving 2 steps forward and 5 steps back.
This all before entering high school.
Exhausting.

Yet he continued to have goals.
He had dreams.
He had aspirations.
Those things, thankfully, never waned.

Even though I was an educator who was realistic, I was also a parent who was determined that he should be given every opportunity, just like everyone else who dreams of a successful future, of being afforded the things necessary to make him successful.
Success to us was simply to pass.
We rejoiced over C’s.
We cried.
We often felt defeated.
We got angry.
We worried.
We made ourselves sick.
We grew tired.

In 2007 our son graduated high school.
That was a wonderful day.
He didn’t wear cords or medals around his neck.
He didn’t have stoles draped over his shoulders.
He wasn’t highly ranked nor did his name bear any honors.
Yet he was standing on a stage, receiving a piece of paper many thought he’d never hold.

College, which was indeed in his plans, would not be easy.
Nor has it been.
He is in his final semester–we hope.
Others his age have long since graduated, some with multiple degrees.
They are working, making their way in their careers and life.
Our son is weary.
He has felt discouraged.
He has suffered multiple setbacks.
At times he’s been his own worst enemy.
He is stubborn.
He is hard headed.
Sometimes I think unrealistic.

However I am not the one who has been told time and time again that I couldn’t do something I’ve always dreamed of doing. There is a certain determination in constantly being told “no” or “never”. . .
Our son, thankfully, has always possessed certain inner strengths which have worked to compensate and offset the heavy deficiencies.

Today, after several miscues, he finally took a long anticipated test.
He took the LSAT.
That in-depth lengthy test those aspiring to attend Law School must first successfully pass before moving forward.
There’s a lot riding on the results of this test.
He’s been in school for the majority of his life.
It has taken a grave toll on him physically.
We want / need for him to work toward financial independence.
His well being wants him to be finally independent.
His new wife worries.
The future is still uncertain.

And yet, the mere fact that my child has actually arrived at this very day, the day of simply taking a test, is monumental.
I know he will be most anxious over the results.
I, on the other hand, have no angst over results.
It is quite to the contrary— I have an odd sense of peaceful satisfaction.
There was a time when colleagues and friends thought we were unrealistic in our aspirations for our son. There was a time when we all wondered if we had not bitten off more than we or he could chew.
I’m sure we will still have those days.
But for today, I may exhale.
I think he may actually exhale.

So whether or not he does or does not eventually attend Law School. . .
Whether or not he clears this latest hurdle or stumbles. . .
Whether or not he puts this goal aside and works toward a different goal, a Plan B goal. . .
It is, to this one mom, the mere fact that her child has actually made it to this day—this actual day which has witnessed his carrying a single admittance ticket through a door, to finding his place once again at yet one more classroom desk, to the taking of one more test in the long list of tests, all taken during the course of a long hard fought career spent in school–it is to this day, a day of an amazing accomplishment, that I can finally see a glimmer of peace.

It is therefore my heartfelt belief that it is not so much the end of a journey which matters in this thing we call life but rather it is the path along the long and arduous journey which matters most. There will always be the bumps and curves, the mountains and cliffs which we will happen upon during the course of the journey which will work in tandem for and against us, all helping to form the “real” person which resides within each of us–as we are all tried by the fires and furnace of life.
My son is testament to such a journey.

“Success is not to be measured by the position someone has reached in life, but the obstacles he has overcome while trying to succeed.”
― Booker T. Washington

what’s your mountain?

“How to get the best of it all? One must conquer, achieve, get to the top; one must know the end to be convinced that one can win the end – to know there’s no dream that mustn’t be dared. . .
Is this the summit, crowning the day? How cool and quiet! We’re not exultant; but delighted, joyful; soberly astonished. . .
Have we vanquished an enemy? None but ourselves. Have we gained success? That word means nothing here. Have we won a kingdom? No. . .
and yes. We have achieved an ultimate satisfaction. . .
fulfilled a destiny. . .
To struggle and to understand – never this last without the other; such is the law. . .”

George Mallory

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(Image of Mt Hood, Orgegon /Julie Cook / 2013)

The above quotation is in regard to the scaling of Mt Everest. Mallory, one of a threesome of British Mountain climbers, disappeared while en route to the summit in 1924. His body was not discovered until 1999. It is not known for certain whether he ever reached the summit before his death on Everest.

I cannot speak as a mountain climber.
Whereas I love mountains and trekking about them, I do not, however, seek to do so if I’m required to carry ice picks, crampons, oxygen tanks, snow goggles, ropes, or to have a Sherpa by my side. I will simply stick to my enjoyment of trekking verses climbing. Yet that is not to say that I do not fully comprehend nor duly appreciate both the physical as well as the psychological preparedness required for such adventure, nor is the strong alluring “call of the mountain” lost on my more timid personage.

We all have our “Mountain” or “Mountains” to climb. My mountain these days happens to be a continuous 30 minutes each morning on an elliptical machine. Complete with incline and resistance. Not that the elliptical is the “Mountain” of my life but rather, it is what I hope the elliptical will help me ascend to—that of better heart health, stamina and not to mention the added benefit of hopefully shedding of a few pounds. For a female, at 54 with a bum thyroid, not to mention that whole hormone thing, the overwhelming weight and health issue is the proverbial Pandora’s box—nothing but a big bunch of bad all mixed together.

If we breathe and live there will inevitably always be mountains in our lives requiring us to climb— as well as conquer.
For some of us it is the issue of weight and health. For others it may be the Mountain of an addiction to drugs, gambling, alcohol or sex. For others it may be the Mountain of debt, poor finances, poor health, illness, depression, illiteracy. . . as there is breath in our bodies, there will always be something that each one of us must climb and conquer during our lifetime. . .

These mountains are not easy to climb . . .
—leading many to rethink the journey.
With each arduous step upward, there is often something catastrophic sending us backwards by 5 or more steps.
We slip, we grasp, we fall. . .
Tired, weary, sore. . .
We ask to stop, just need a breath, just need to rest, just for a little while, “I’ll start again soon, I promise”— we bargain with ourselves, God and the looming Mountain.

Do we think that God is oblivious to our struggle?
Do we think that He is some sadistic malcontent who manipulates the Mountains, sickly and twistedly watching us struggling and stumbling backwards through our tears, frustration and feelings of defeat?

He is not that.
It is He who sheds the tears and feels the frustration alongside us . . .
With the one difference being, however, that He does not know the defeat.
In Him only rests an ending of Victory.
The journey and climb to that Victory, however, is always through a battle with Death.
Regardless of whatever each individual’s Mountain may be, the climb is always the same.
The Mountain will always be the Death of Self.
It is the Mountains of self which we must climb which ultimately lead to the Victory.

Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him.
Mark 11:23

Our world will always have its mountains as we sadly live in a fallen world.
There is no perfection, no Utopia.
A world simply hiding under dark wings of Death.
Dreams will come and go just as the tides ebb and flow.
Struggles will constantly dog us while endlessly nipping at our heels.
What is the option if the climb does not continue?

Yes, the journey is arduous, as the task remains daunting.
The days will often be filled with frustration, sorrow and pain.
There will be days of defeat.
Two steps upward, 6 steps back.
“I quit”
“I give up”
“I can’t”
. . .so exclaims a dejected climber. . .
yet all the while, Victory remains open armed and waiting. . .

It’s always looming you know, that Mountain.
Despite decisions to abandon the climb, the Mountain never disappears.
Anyone who attempts to walk away simply lives the remainder of life in a frustrating dark shadow.

Yet this need not be a signal of a defeated end.
As there is light each new morning, as there is breathe each new day, the climb is never over.
For each new morning offers the new hope of another try.
Another chance at the Mountain before us.
Another chance to try again.
Another step upward.
Again, another opportunity to work toward the top.

For I, the LORD your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I am the one who helps you.”
Isaiah 41:13

The climb, the conquest must always begin with just one step upward.
No Victory is ever reached without first taking a single step.

The wings of eagles

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(image: blade eagle soaring above the trees on the Pacific Rim trail, Ucluelet, Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada / Julie Cook / 2010)

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and to him who has no might he increases strength.
Even youths shall faint and be weary,
and young men shall fall exhausted;
but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint.

Isaiah 40:28-31
English Standard Version (ESV)

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(Eagles perched in a tree somewhere along the Oregon Coastal Hwy between Yachats and Cannon Beach, Oregon / Julie Cook / 2013)

What does it matter

“And what, O Queen, are those things that are dear to a man? Are they not bubbles? Is not ambition but an endless ladder by which no height is ever climbed till the last unreachable rung is mounted? For height leads on to height, and there is not resting-place among them, and rung doth grow upon rung, and there is no limit to the number.”
Sir H. Rider Haggard

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Crater Lake Rim Trial, Crater Lake, Oregon / Julie Cook / 2013

I was recently reading about a conversation between Father Maximilian Kolbe and a German Gestapo Officer, albeit a conversation via correspondence only, in which Kolbe was petitioning the officer for approval to be able to print an important monthly newsletter. The Germans had garrisoned the small Polish town in which Fr.Kolbe’s monastery resided, having shut down his daily operations. Fr Kolbe’s monastery, Niepokalanow, which had grown to be one of the largest Franciscan Monasteries in the world, was responsible for the printing and distributing of the periodical The Knight, which was a newsletter devoted to his Marian Militia of the Immaculata–the army of Mary.

Fr Kolbe wrote several letters requesting permission to print the newsletter with, all but one, landing upon deaf ears. It was the final approval, with the writing, then the printing and distribution that was the final straw that broke the camel’s back between Fr Kolbe and the German “guests” of Poland. But it was of his appeal, in one of the many letters, which struck a chord with me….

In one or two hundred years, you and I will no longer be alive. Then all of our problems will be settled, even the most important, and only one will remain: Will we still exist at that moment, and where? Will we be happy? It is the same for all men. Every hour brings us closer to that moment. Our review [the review being the periodical The Knight] deals with this kind of problem.

It was noted that the German Officer was obviously not concerned about his own happiness nor of his place or position in one to two hundred years….sadly so I might add.

The point being that so much of today’s troubles and conflicts will be of little to no importance or consequence in 100 years (or truly even less), as none of us will be around to carry on the quibbling. Kolbe’s observation resonated deeply in my thoughts. The truly more important matter, which Fr Kolbe noted, was the query as to where it is we will all be in said distant future and will we be happy.

Oh I suppose that if mankind is still around, as is likely, in 100 to 200 years from now, I am certain that some morphed version of today’s issues and conflicts will still be manifesting themselves… without having missed a single beat. As the perpetual and oh so elusive desire for World Peace will continue flowing from the charts of hopes and dreams…

So I am left to wonder, what does all of this ugliness matter anyway…as all of this is to one day pass away…as will we in equal turn.

What does appear to matter, however, is the concept of the soul and of the welcoming home of that soul to the Father’s house. But I suppose you’d have to believe in the concept of having a soul, a loving Father and an eventual place that is waiting on the prodigal to return…otherwise, nothing matters…… and how terribly empty is that?
and so it goes….

Day and Night, how wondrous….

The day is Yours,

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and Yours also the night;

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You established the sun

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and moon.

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It was You who set all the boundaries of the earth;
You made both summer

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and winter.

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Psalm 74:14 NIV

I thank you and praise you oh Lord.
I am humbled and awed by the majesty of your hand.
For you are the Creator and I am the created–I am a part of your hand, your thoughts, your desires…..for in you I have my breath, my hope, my life, my all….

Images from: Assisi, Italy / Piazza del Comune / 2007
Crater Lake / Oregon/ 2013
Santa Rosa, Florida / 2011
St Francis in the snow / 2011