all the color will soon fall and the barren trees will sing cold and wind snow and ice will paint the boughs with chilled beauty as leaves are tossed and lost are the dried and cracked memories of hues and tones that proudly shouted i am here let's welcome winter when it enters our souls sometimes what we think is gold needs to fade be swept away in the wind of the Spirit may we bend and break let proud color and hues fall in surrender self must fade and give way to the dark long nights He will hold us tight through the cold and the questions and the monochrome feelings we must stand still as the tree and wait for life to start again in His time His way His truth His life will spring for we wait and in the waiting He is present we wait He is comfort He is love we wait in His love
dear Lord when i am restless let the tranquility of your Spirit the comfort of your word the light of your love be my peace and still my stirring
when i am anxious let the power of your grace the assurance of your sovereignty the goodness of your will warm the frozen fear i feel inside release the heart shackles and settle my thoughts in the river of your presence
when i am triggered angry let your mercy help me remember how much is broken in me let your justice be the end of my longing let my heart be open to you and this world send me as your loving healing presence as i receive your love and your healing
when i am lost bring me home when i am so sad that light seems a memory and hope a forgotten song reorient my mind reset my spirit
help me see that the suffering is but a moment that all i long for awaits in your house no more tears no need of light or sun no darkness
thank you my dear Lord thank you
Back to Flushing Meadows-Corona Park in Queens for this Summer of 2022 post. The Unisphere is as spectacular as I remember it when I was at the New York World’s Fair in 1965. However, I don’t remember it being so large: 140 feet high and 120 feet in diameter. When I was there this past summer, the pool that the sphere rests in seemed to be under some kind of renovation, so you could walk right up to the base of the sphere. It was wonderful to see families and so many enjoying this gem of a park and iconic structure in Queens.
The last time I was at this location was in 1965. I was 4 years old. The location is Flushing Meadows-Corona Park, which served as the site for the 1939-40 and 1964-65 New York World’s Fair. These images are the remains of the New York State Pavilion. The structures have been ignored and deteriorating for years, but recently the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation has embarked on a restoration project. The next summer memories post will be of another famous structure from the 1964-65 World’s Fair. Thanks for stopping by.
What’s your caption or story for this image?
Fall is making it’s entrance here in the Midwest. Trees are beginning to show off, Costco has had Christmas trees on display for a few weeks now, and the end of the day knocks on our door a lot sooner than it did just a few weeks ago. It has been a busy time for me as well, so this is the first of a few posts from this past summer. We were in New York in August, so, first up, my favorite place: Jones Beach. Thanks for stopping by.
Scene 1 fades in from black: I’m standing in the doorway of what used to be the bedroom for my two daughters. Eleven months before I said, “Her mother and I do,” at my oldest daughter’s wedding, and like the refrain of a song, I just said the same words at my youngest daughter’s wedding! My oldest son is already married. Three down, one to go. I pull out my phone and capture… this… empty room. I guess I was hoping to capture the conversations, dance parties, tears, Christmas mornings, laughter, prayers… capture all that happened in that room. The phone displays an empty room. But I am filled with gratitude as I remember that grace brought me here and will continue to lead me…home. I am crossing the vast Canyon of Parenthood, which is followed by the great Canyon of Fatherhood and the Canyon of Where Did the Time Go… and I realize that I am at the beginning of that time in my life where I will be remembered a bit less, and less. And that is what will be. And it’s ok. Scene 1 fades to black.
Scene 2 fades in from black. I’m standing in the doorway of what used to be the bedroom for my youngest son. I pull out my phone… you know the rest. Now, the emptiness of the room is a bit more final in my heart. All four of our children (can I still call them children?) are gone. Now I watch our children and their families, and I see them and the 6 little ones that are the new generation in their “rooms” praying, crying, laughing, enjoying dance parties, creating moments to remember and one day say good-bye to… one day let go… one day to try and capture on a phone. And I know that the new generation will forget more than they remember of their papa and nana. And I know that is what must be. And it’s okay. Scene 2 fades to black. One more scene.
Scene 3 fades in from black. I am being held by my mom in an impossibly strong, firm embrace. Impossible because my mom’s 96 year old body appears to be so frail, brittle and fragile. I see her connecting to my dear wife in a hushed conversation filled with memories and love. She can’t really stand up straight anymore. It seems like she is always folding in on herself, like she is ever seeking the fetal position. I tell her, as often as I can, that I love her, and her frail, thin voice tells me the same. My mom is a stranger in this world. She has lived long enough to bury he mom and dad and all of her siblings. The neighborhood is filled with strangers, for all of her friends from the old days have passed as well. She is, in so many ways, alone. Few remember who she is. And as I have had the opportunity to watch her in these late years, I am grateful for all that she has taught me. She has embraced her reality, and it is okay. She has taught me to welcome your emotions and the reality that you are in, but to not let it steal the grace and love that you can, at any moment, give to someone. She is frustrated, but not angry. She is sorrowful, but not bitter. She feels forgotten, but is not resentful. I want so badly to take away all the pain, heartache and struggle that makes up her days and nights. But I can’t. It must be this way. And that is okay. If I could take it away, it would diminish her and also diminish me. It is okay. This scene will fade to black. I am not sure I will be able to navigate that blackness. But, it will be. And that’s okay.
My last, but not the last post from my trip to Guatemala this past summer. Not the last because I will return, but the last in this particular series. Thanks for stopping by.
In this post you can read about this stunning location. I have a deep love and appreciation for the wonderful people we partnered with in Guatemala, and and equal love for this beautiful country. Thanks for stopping by.
bright morning crystal skies catch the train breakfast on the run markets open late for work elevator rising immovable tower the world at your feet traffic another day bright morning fire in the sky darkness disbelief disorientation confusion from the earthquake in your heart falling everthing inside you around you is falling no other day is this day bright morning red light blue light heroes rise through the fire running climbing fearless angels fight through the fog of hate that fills the sky the streets are drowning in fear in tears in a ticker paper parade of madness souls rain down oh my God bright morning when all our souls were crushed under the weight of all that fell that day where is mom is my sister there my friend have you seen him my brother was with my dad my son she was just a little girl God oh God please God no bright morning names etched in our hearts carved in the stone remember pray forgive God heal us help us to be free the pain is still here God you're here too so please let a bright morning rise in me help me see you are my hope your love is here open my heart let Light make a bright morning in me