dawn does’t crack in the low country of Georgia. Much like everything else here, it just kind of eases into it. No reason to hurry, it’s just too hot. We saw trees that were dead for decades that didn’t know it yet, so they just kept gripping the beach while wind and sand polished them into amazing abstract sculptures. Some of the most powerful and richest people in the world came to Jekyll Island for a while, but they’re dead and gone now. It was never their home. These trees though, they belong here.
It’s been almost a week now, and I can just about write this without welling up. The trail finally came to an end for our beautiful, smart and loyal border-golden mix, Maddie. 16 plus years is a pretty good run for any dog, but if you’ve ever had one like her you would agree it’s way too short.
We got her because she needed a home, a rescue of sorts, but we had no idea how much we were the ones going to get rescued. She was exercise partner, yard guardian, therapist, plush toy, work supervisor, floor pacer, ball chaser, neighborhood hero, explosive hair bomb factory, and most importantly, one constant source of love and companionship.
She was a picture of God’s grace to us. Unmerited, unconditional and and unending. Until last week. There’s a big empty spot in the kitchen now, and in our family. It was awful to say goodbye, and I won’t be ready for that again for a long time. But it was worth it to have “the best dog ever” with us for as long as we did.
Somehow the post got lost in the ether(net). So here’s what it was supposed to be–
28 And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin,29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. – Matthew 6:28-29
I admit, I’m prone to being anxious about many things that are out of my control. (Clothing not really being one of those though, as my wife can attest.)
An unplanned Palm Sunday afternoon spent wandering around Longwood Gardens, just considering God’s creation, really is a great antidote to anxiety. Even more so when you consider the Creator.
All things considered, no worries.
Coming into work I cross over the Schuylkill River every morning, just about halfway to the office. I’m usually a little foggy myself, but I always enjoy my glimpse of the river as I cross over. “How are the fish biting today? Is the water up? Wish I was putting in the kayak for a paddle.” These kinds of thoughts run through my head, but then I’m past it, and on up the hill to work.
This morning though, as it sometimes is in the spring, it was otherworldly crossing over the bridge. The colors had all drained away and it was nearly impossible to tell where the river left off and the sky began. I stopped to just look at it for a while, and saw this shot in my head before I even took it.
It seemed like an interesting metaphor for many mornings. You kind of emerge from the fog of sleep, to be faced with all these tangled issues that twirl and branch and seem insurmountable, but the fog dissolves and slowly the way, somewhere in between, usually appears.
Its funny how on the way home, I usually get a sunset off the water, the river once again reflecting the day. Sometimes you’ve just got to keep rolling on, whether you can see what’s coming or not.
Bent, but not broken. A little bowed down, getting snowy on top, but ready to bounce back.
Its just for a season.
A shot for the Weekly Photo Challenge
Been a while since I posted any images, but I’ve been traveling a lot (and shooting some). Recently went to Longwood Gardens to see the Nightscape exhibition. We got there early enough to walk in the Meadows just at sunset, which is just an incredible place. I took a bunch with just my iPhone and have been experimenting with some digital tools to get a painterly, expressionist feel.
I like the sense of urgency in this shot but also the security and hope of home being just in sight.
“This hill, though high, I covet to ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend.
For I perceive the way to life lies here.
Come, pluck up, heart; let’s neither faint nor fear.
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.”
― John Bunyan,