In the recovery world it is often stated that right action will lead to right thinking and right thinking will lead to right feelings. The implications are that our experience and perceptions of life will often be strongly determined by our feeling states. The reality is that feelings and little else often determine one’s perception of the quality of life. Perhaps this is why depression, anxiety, and other affective disorders are so devastating to those suffering from them. The structure of life can be sublime yet its benefits lost on the victims of affective angst.
The recovery journey teaches its pilgrims to fly by the instruments when life seems shrouded in darkness. Whether one’s nemesis is alcohol or drugs or some other form of all consuming addiction, the solution is identical. One finds through other people and God the help to do the next right thing, to have the next right thought, to live the first of a series of present moments that will turn into a whole day, which will in turn into a whole week, and then a whole year. We build a meaningful future by stringing together a series of meaningful present moments. We often find ourselves challenged to do the next right thing, whether we feel like it or not, trusting that eventually we will feel like it. We then can find ourselves living joyous, happy, and free lives
One of the useful tools to gaining wholeness is to take inventory of one’s day before falling asleep. We look at those things we did during the day and ask ourselves if they made the world friendlier, warmer, and safer to those around us. Did we contribute to community building? Did we give others hope? Did we draw closer to God? Did we give people laughter and joy? Did we do these things with a right attitude? While lying in bed this morning I again thought about what my day was like yesterday. I suddenly realized that it had been an absolutely perfect day, even though it did not feel like it.
The day started with me walking about forty minutes around a small lake in my neighborhood. Carrying a small deck of scripture promise cards, I worked at renewing my mind with promises that speak a very different message than the curses that were pronounced upon me in a troubled alcoholic childhood. The infusion of these promises into my mind along with mild exercise prepared me to do the next right thing.
On Wednesday mornings about a dozen of us gather at Meals on Wheels to cook and pack 650 hot lunches for the invisible and marginalized that are imprisoned by their infirmities and poverty. And so we did yesterday. The forgotten and discarded of an individualistic material culture were reminded that they really do have value and matter in God’s economy.
In much of the world people live at the lowest level of Maslow’s need hierarchy, consumed with the survival needs of shelter and food. These billions of people do not have the time or energy to think about purpose or actualization. As I do about this time every month, I went to a local grocery and made a funds transfer to a small orphanage in India. I then went to the public library and sent a control number via wi-fi e-mail to the orphanage. The hundred or so orphans and leprous widows that live in this small island of safety will eat and be attended to for another month. In the next few days I will get an e-mail containing digital pictures of a mountain of rice and those other things that make life more plausible. It is a profound return on investment for the half hour it takes me to do this each month
For those of us that own our own houses without the encumbrance of mortgages, it is easy to lose sight of the fact that decent housing is a huge issue for many people. In the recovery world of addictions, homelessness and poor shelter are rampant. Many of those trapped in poverty have forgotten how to dream. On Wednesday and Saturdays, and often on other days of the week, a group of us will gather with our tools at one of several sites to build dreams for those who have forgotten how to dream in their struggles for survival. We simply build simple decent houses in the poor parts of town under the auspices of Habitat for Humanity. Yesterday the sheetrock was finished in one of the houses and the vinyl finished on one end of the same house. The kitchen cabinets were planned out for another one of the three houses currently in progress. My part was to be up on an extension ladder installing vinyl siding. A fellow doing community service hours for underage drinking helped me. This took me up until about 2:30 PM.
Recovery is about finding a full meaningful life. It is a means to an end. Life should contain laughter and joy and friendship. Community theaters are good places for this to happen. Each afternoon I make it a point to go to the community theater and build sets for the plays we put on. There is nothing glamorous about working alone in a dark hot auditorium, yet on opening night the payoff is suddenly paid out under the bright Klieg lights. The joy the patrons get over the next several weeks is full compensation for my hot tiring work in the dark. Giving people a respite of good entertainment from their often-challenging lives is part of God’s economy.
Life is also about stewardship of one’s health and the local YMCA has been a grand place for me to exercise for several years. Besides getting exercise with other people who are embracing wellness and community, the Y provides the opportunity to make people feel visible and significant. Our Y has a lot of very elderly patrons and they are often uncertain about being on fitness floors with buff young men who seem to have it all. Simply speaking to them and offering assistance on the use of machines can make their day. I always leave the Y feeling, younger, better, and healthier. Perhaps some others do as well because I made it a point to do the next right thing and show up there one day.
An important part of drawing closer to God is to participate in the life of a church or other religious organization. Sometimes simply showing up for a Wednesday dinner and making a newcomer feel a part of the community is enough. I simply showed up last night and ate a lot of fine fish at our annual fish fry and made two new comers feel like their presence really matters. One of them left the church years ago because she felt invisible. My being there last night was a good thing for both of us.
There must be nothing like the pain experienced by a young mother who loses her kids because she has been drinking and driving her kids around while in black out. I cannot pretend to know this specific pain for myself but when asked by a mother if life can ever get better again, I can emphatically state that there is hope and that it positively can get better if she will own up to her problem with addictions and get help. She was in the right place to start a new journey to wholeness and I was allowed to be standing along her path for a few minutes.
A homeless man on the street needed a ride to the Salvation Army shelter. I took him over there and he felt like he had gotten a bit of a lift in life.
If I keep doing these things each day, perhaps one day I will find I am truly happy, joyous, and free. “All things do work together for those that love the Lord and are called according to His purposes.”
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
Late Illuminations - Slade, Kentucky
Natural Bridge State Park
For some months now, Bill and I have been planning on a day journey to visit a picturesque natural rock formation that spans an ancient river gorge. Bill has been most excited about showing me the world of Eastern Kentucky in which he grew up. On the phone he described the incredible views available to those who are willing to climb up a steep trail to the top of this old Appalachian river gorge. I was hopeful of seeing breath taking images much like those the great landscape painter Albert Bierstadt was able to capture on canvas in the 19th century.
Alas, the day we had available to visit Natural Bridge dawned dark, gray, and wet. This is the third day of dense cloud cover and it is telling on our mood. Yet, we did not let it impede any of our planned activities. About 11 AM we headed west for the Natural Bridge State Park, which is supposed to be the crown jewel of the Kentucky state park system. With the park shrouded in dense cloud and rain at 2 PM it was hard to tell if this is true. All I saw was milky white. I was reminded of the time I invited friends from England to climb Whiteside Mountain in North Carolina, only to see dense white cloud. I told them to imagine a valley floor thousands of feet below. So it was with Bill telling me to imagine what was below.
We did go ahead and hike up to the natural bridge in drizzle and dense cloud. It was very mystical and despite the conditions I was able to get some fine images. The grand fern and tree species that thrive in these mountains require long periods of being shrouded in dense cloud with drizzle. There is a price for everything. The geologic formations are impressive and the park trail maintenance is very good. It was very easy to climb the various trails. This park has many of the pleasant sensibilities I have always found in other state and national parks. It would be easy to shift focus from exotic foreign destinations to nearby state parks. They really do attract a very different unpretentious kind of person. To wit: we encountered a nice talkative fellow on the trail who was a pipe fitter for Ford for 38years.
With some reluctance we left the park about 4 PM, figuring to go to Lexington for the rest of the day and Saturday since the weather was not conducive to hiking about the mountains or capturing grand vistas with a camera.
We quickly changed our plans and decided on an urban outing to some of the Lexington spring festivals, despite the hideous cost of gasoline. Bill pulled up a faded memory of a restaurant down by the Kentucky River, sort of on the way to Lexington. Amazingly, we hunted it down fairly easily, despite an obscure location. We found a distinctive local color place cantilevered over the river, fairly remote from any immediate town. The setting was actually most pleasing, reminding me of many such places in the United Kingdom.
While eating there, the dense cloud cover of three-days duration suddenly dispersed and we found ourselves looking out into brilliant sun for the first time in three days. The late afternoon illuminations in a crisp clear cerulean sky suggested it might be worthwhile to quickly retrace our steps.
We decided to drive the hour back to the park to see if we could actually get to the top of the gorge in time to film the sunset. We actually got to the park at exactly the right time to hike up to the bridge to catch the sunset. It was helpful to do another hike. I really did need the exercise. I can tell the difference when I don’t get aerobic exercise. The hike to the natural bridge is only half a mile but very steep. I think the gain in elevation is about 1000 feet. The views from the top were crystalline clear and did afford views up and down the river gorge. The full moon presently itself at just the right time to illuminate the lavender sky one finds in the east at sunset.
We decided this park really is better experienced as a destination rather than as a mere stop on the way to someplace else. We were able to get a room cancellation and stayed in the resort lodge in the park. The view out the plate glass of our room was much like that from a well-done tree house. The room and its context were really fine.
I was up early enough for a quiet wandering around the lake, and various assorted facilities of the park lodge. Bill sleeps late on vacations so I have a lot of morning time by myself. I get a powerful sense of many people working in this resort and having a truly happy compact world to live in. A square dance facility on a small island was truly compelling. An island has been developed as a single purpose dance floor with bleachers and bandstand. I had powerful images of happy people dancing under the stars and living totally in the moment. The appeal of state parks was really strong while walking about the empty spaces in the early morning.
In the afternoon while walking about and seeing young happy families, my speculations of early morning about family life in state parks were reinforced. It was hard to not resent my childhood having been truncated by alcohol and drugs. I saw some incredible mothers creating magic for their children. A Caucasian couple and two adopted Korean boys were poking around, looking for insects with magnifying glasses. I could not wander what it would have done for my mental health if Mom had me foraging for bugs with a magnifier instead of fetching her pills and drinks.
The dining room in the resort lodge reminded me of a simpler more rustic time from 40 years ago. There is a natural earth tone stone motif of interior design that was common in the 40s and 50s that I find comforting and more enduring than the faddish motifs of the present day. The unassuming pleasant wait staff added to the overall sense of the resort. Bill was nearly in love with the woman who waited on us. It would have taken little to convince me to stay a few more days in this oasis of tranquility.
I now pay a lot more attention to those brown roadside signs. I get a big yield on my tax dollars when I partake of the offerings in these grand parks.
For some months now, Bill and I have been planning on a day journey to visit a picturesque natural rock formation that spans an ancient river gorge. Bill has been most excited about showing me the world of Eastern Kentucky in which he grew up. On the phone he described the incredible views available to those who are willing to climb up a steep trail to the top of this old Appalachian river gorge. I was hopeful of seeing breath taking images much like those the great landscape painter Albert Bierstadt was able to capture on canvas in the 19th century.
Alas, the day we had available to visit Natural Bridge dawned dark, gray, and wet. This is the third day of dense cloud cover and it is telling on our mood. Yet, we did not let it impede any of our planned activities. About 11 AM we headed west for the Natural Bridge State Park, which is supposed to be the crown jewel of the Kentucky state park system. With the park shrouded in dense cloud and rain at 2 PM it was hard to tell if this is true. All I saw was milky white. I was reminded of the time I invited friends from England to climb Whiteside Mountain in North Carolina, only to see dense white cloud. I told them to imagine a valley floor thousands of feet below. So it was with Bill telling me to imagine what was below.
We did go ahead and hike up to the natural bridge in drizzle and dense cloud. It was very mystical and despite the conditions I was able to get some fine images. The grand fern and tree species that thrive in these mountains require long periods of being shrouded in dense cloud with drizzle. There is a price for everything. The geologic formations are impressive and the park trail maintenance is very good. It was very easy to climb the various trails. This park has many of the pleasant sensibilities I have always found in other state and national parks. It would be easy to shift focus from exotic foreign destinations to nearby state parks. They really do attract a very different unpretentious kind of person. To wit: we encountered a nice talkative fellow on the trail who was a pipe fitter for Ford for 38years.
With some reluctance we left the park about 4 PM, figuring to go to Lexington for the rest of the day and Saturday since the weather was not conducive to hiking about the mountains or capturing grand vistas with a camera.
We quickly changed our plans and decided on an urban outing to some of the Lexington spring festivals, despite the hideous cost of gasoline. Bill pulled up a faded memory of a restaurant down by the Kentucky River, sort of on the way to Lexington. Amazingly, we hunted it down fairly easily, despite an obscure location. We found a distinctive local color place cantilevered over the river, fairly remote from any immediate town. The setting was actually most pleasing, reminding me of many such places in the United Kingdom.
While eating there, the dense cloud cover of three-days duration suddenly dispersed and we found ourselves looking out into brilliant sun for the first time in three days. The late afternoon illuminations in a crisp clear cerulean sky suggested it might be worthwhile to quickly retrace our steps.
We decided to drive the hour back to the park to see if we could actually get to the top of the gorge in time to film the sunset. We actually got to the park at exactly the right time to hike up to the bridge to catch the sunset. It was helpful to do another hike. I really did need the exercise. I can tell the difference when I don’t get aerobic exercise. The hike to the natural bridge is only half a mile but very steep. I think the gain in elevation is about 1000 feet. The views from the top were crystalline clear and did afford views up and down the river gorge. The full moon presently itself at just the right time to illuminate the lavender sky one finds in the east at sunset.
We decided this park really is better experienced as a destination rather than as a mere stop on the way to someplace else. We were able to get a room cancellation and stayed in the resort lodge in the park. The view out the plate glass of our room was much like that from a well-done tree house. The room and its context were really fine.
I was up early enough for a quiet wandering around the lake, and various assorted facilities of the park lodge. Bill sleeps late on vacations so I have a lot of morning time by myself. I get a powerful sense of many people working in this resort and having a truly happy compact world to live in. A square dance facility on a small island was truly compelling. An island has been developed as a single purpose dance floor with bleachers and bandstand. I had powerful images of happy people dancing under the stars and living totally in the moment. The appeal of state parks was really strong while walking about the empty spaces in the early morning.
In the afternoon while walking about and seeing young happy families, my speculations of early morning about family life in state parks were reinforced. It was hard to not resent my childhood having been truncated by alcohol and drugs. I saw some incredible mothers creating magic for their children. A Caucasian couple and two adopted Korean boys were poking around, looking for insects with magnifying glasses. I could not wander what it would have done for my mental health if Mom had me foraging for bugs with a magnifier instead of fetching her pills and drinks.
The dining room in the resort lodge reminded me of a simpler more rustic time from 40 years ago. There is a natural earth tone stone motif of interior design that was common in the 40s and 50s that I find comforting and more enduring than the faddish motifs of the present day. The unassuming pleasant wait staff added to the overall sense of the resort. Bill was nearly in love with the woman who waited on us. It would have taken little to convince me to stay a few more days in this oasis of tranquility.
I now pay a lot more attention to those brown roadside signs. I get a big yield on my tax dollars when I partake of the offerings in these grand parks.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Rainy Day Options, Mt. Olive, Kentucky
Carter Caves State Park
What better activity in the world to do on a rainy day than to play like one is with Jules Verne and making a journey to the center of the earth? And so it was for Bill and I. We have been planning for months to enjoy day trips to some of the fine state parks in Eastern Kentucky, and we were not about to let rain ruin this plan for us today. Caving suddenly became a viable option for us.
After a fine leisurely time with three hospitable women in Central Park for a spontaneous rain-free picnic, we headed west about forty miles to Carter Caves State Park in a dense rain which started up just after we left Ashland. We arrived in the state park during a lull in the downpour, which allowed us to have a pleasant short hike through some really picturesque woods and rock formations while waiting for a tour of one of the twenty caves that have been mapped in the park. I found myself completely present and happy to the experience of being in this park, cloaked in the emerald green of new spring. The extensive rock formations were entrancing and gave me a happy anticipation of the world below ground being just as interesting. Happily, I scampered about taking pictures. With digital cameras one can be completely reckless, no longer confined by the budgetary realities of using film.
The rain gods were good to us once again. The rains held off and did not start up in earnest until just before we entered the caves with two other very pleasant couples. A very enthusiast park ranger led our little group below the surface. I have always been entranced with the happy positive people that work in state and national parks. The ranger was rather gracious and knowledgeable about the caverns in the park. His country good old boy ways made the imagery of rural Kentucky most satisfying. Those working in the visitor center and gift shop reinforced my very positive view of those that get to work in parks. I have always had a sense that those who work in parks know that they have privileged circumstances.
The caverns were well endowed with formations of various kinds -stalactites, stalagmites, soda straws, drapery, bacon, columns, and translucent sheets. The lighting that had been installed in the caverns was such that I was able to get a very nice set of photos without using flash. The lighting was understated and added just enough color to accent what naturally was to be found in the mineral formations. There were no red, blue, green, or yellow flood lamps. It actually may be that I now have enough images from my assorted journeys to put together a cave lecture. Perhaps one of the best things about travel is to think about how the experience can be shared with others. I have been told more than once, “I would rather see the world through your eyes than through my own.” While wandering through the chambers of the Cater Caverns I was thinking about how I would show these to others that don’t have the good fortune of crawling around underground in the cool dark chambers, millions of years in the making.
It also occurred to me that I could make several nice additions to my Appalachian Paradise lecture with the pictures I took above ground. My head has been in a very good space today, even though in the blackness of the subterranean world.
We came above ground and our little temporary community of seven dispersed to four different cars and we each headed back to our own lives. One of the great intrigues of travel is the intersection of lives that take place in the most unlikely of places.
What better activity in the world to do on a rainy day than to play like one is with Jules Verne and making a journey to the center of the earth? And so it was for Bill and I. We have been planning for months to enjoy day trips to some of the fine state parks in Eastern Kentucky, and we were not about to let rain ruin this plan for us today. Caving suddenly became a viable option for us.
After a fine leisurely time with three hospitable women in Central Park for a spontaneous rain-free picnic, we headed west about forty miles to Carter Caves State Park in a dense rain which started up just after we left Ashland. We arrived in the state park during a lull in the downpour, which allowed us to have a pleasant short hike through some really picturesque woods and rock formations while waiting for a tour of one of the twenty caves that have been mapped in the park. I found myself completely present and happy to the experience of being in this park, cloaked in the emerald green of new spring. The extensive rock formations were entrancing and gave me a happy anticipation of the world below ground being just as interesting. Happily, I scampered about taking pictures. With digital cameras one can be completely reckless, no longer confined by the budgetary realities of using film.
The rain gods were good to us once again. The rains held off and did not start up in earnest until just before we entered the caves with two other very pleasant couples. A very enthusiast park ranger led our little group below the surface. I have always been entranced with the happy positive people that work in state and national parks. The ranger was rather gracious and knowledgeable about the caverns in the park. His country good old boy ways made the imagery of rural Kentucky most satisfying. Those working in the visitor center and gift shop reinforced my very positive view of those that get to work in parks. I have always had a sense that those who work in parks know that they have privileged circumstances.
The caverns were well endowed with formations of various kinds -stalactites, stalagmites, soda straws, drapery, bacon, columns, and translucent sheets. The lighting that had been installed in the caverns was such that I was able to get a very nice set of photos without using flash. The lighting was understated and added just enough color to accent what naturally was to be found in the mineral formations. There were no red, blue, green, or yellow flood lamps. It actually may be that I now have enough images from my assorted journeys to put together a cave lecture. Perhaps one of the best things about travel is to think about how the experience can be shared with others. I have been told more than once, “I would rather see the world through your eyes than through my own.” While wandering through the chambers of the Cater Caverns I was thinking about how I would show these to others that don’t have the good fortune of crawling around underground in the cool dark chambers, millions of years in the making.
It also occurred to me that I could make several nice additions to my Appalachian Paradise lecture with the pictures I took above ground. My head has been in a very good space today, even though in the blackness of the subterranean world.
We came above ground and our little temporary community of seven dispersed to four different cars and we each headed back to our own lives. One of the great intrigues of travel is the intersection of lives that take place in the most unlikely of places.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Central Park, Ashland Kentucky
Central Park
One of the great joys of traveling to new places are the surprises that often appear before unsuspecting eyes. Such was the case when I found myself today in an old steel and coal town along the Ohio River. My first impressions of the city of Ashland, Kentucky were less than stellar – vast mountains of coal being loaded onto barges at the river front, noisy labyrinthine railroad switching yards, stinking refinery plants shrouded in clouds of toxic air pollutants. Yet, underneath the accretions of a declining smokestack industrial empire, one finds an emerald jewel. It is much like finding a pearl of great price in a battered oyster shell.
A mere six blocks from the rusting industrial architecture on the riverfront is a large city park of perhaps a hundred and fifty acres surrounded by dozens of spectacular restored houses from a by-gone century when the prosperity of coal and steel allowed tycoons to build their lavish dreams. The City of Ashland clearly is home to a number of visionary citizens who sought to save their architecture and build a jewel of a city park. Having been in many of the world’s great cities and having enjoyed their grand parks, it is very easy to see them as among the greatest assets in public life.
One of the greatest and most rewarding journeys one can make in life is the one which leads us to wholeness of mind and body. It is often an arduous journey but the mercies of God do allow us blessed seasons of rest, even if but for the brief span of a couple of hours. On distant journeys, I have often found my rest in churches at midday. At noon I was sitting in a fine old brick Episcopal church when a woman came up behind me, unseen, and kissed me on top of my head. I was quite astonished until the woman apologized profusely and explained that she mistook my balding pate for another one of similar appearance. I readily accepted her apology and told her she could kiss my bald head anytime. Alas, we parted ways with my wondering about this person that dispenses lavish kisses to strange heads.
The 23rd Psalm is often considered the most powerful imagery ever created with words. Most compelling in this endearing promise of hope is the assurance that God will lead us into green pastures for rest and beside still waters for refreshment of our thirsty souls. I was walking with a good friend in the nearby park after leaving the church and he pointed out someone nearby. Sitting at a picnic table by the bucolic lake and fountains that mark the center of Ashland’s crown jewel, was the very woman who had endowed me with her mistaken affections. Perhaps the world really is small, warm and friendly after all. We approached her table and were quickly invited to sit with her. She even offered paper towels to dry the benches, still wet from a morning rain.
I was to soon learn that her wisdom is of far greater value than her kisses. She too is on a long journey to wholeness of mind and body. Sitting at the picnic table by the lake, I felt as if I was in one of the great lecture halls of Oxford or Cambridge. I was offered sage counsel on facing the myriad challenges of life that I quickly discerned had been learned from experience, not from textbooks. I even felt compelled to get pen and paper and make notes, not wanting to risk her pearls of wisdoms to retention in my uncertain wisps of memory. I did, indeed, find great refreshment for a thirsty soul by the still waters of Central Park and rest in a very real field of emerald green grass beneath ancients trees planted by visionaries long gone onto their greater rewards.
I suspect my daily meditations on Psalm 23 will be forever more visual and experiential after my experience today. Central Park in Ashland is a powerful metaphor that brought this Psalm to life today for a weary traveler. I found refreshment and rest from one of God’s messengers and did so in a time of dryness and weariness. Certainly, my experience in Ashland’s Central Park was the equal or better than any of those I had in London’s Hyde Park or Paris’ Luxembourg Gardens. It even bested my luminous times in the Stadt Park of Vienna.
I am reminded of the promises of Isaiah. “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings as eagles, they shall run and not weary, they shall walk and not faint.”
God sent me my own messenger today to tell me it will get better if I wait on him.
One of the great joys of traveling to new places are the surprises that often appear before unsuspecting eyes. Such was the case when I found myself today in an old steel and coal town along the Ohio River. My first impressions of the city of Ashland, Kentucky were less than stellar – vast mountains of coal being loaded onto barges at the river front, noisy labyrinthine railroad switching yards, stinking refinery plants shrouded in clouds of toxic air pollutants. Yet, underneath the accretions of a declining smokestack industrial empire, one finds an emerald jewel. It is much like finding a pearl of great price in a battered oyster shell.
A mere six blocks from the rusting industrial architecture on the riverfront is a large city park of perhaps a hundred and fifty acres surrounded by dozens of spectacular restored houses from a by-gone century when the prosperity of coal and steel allowed tycoons to build their lavish dreams. The City of Ashland clearly is home to a number of visionary citizens who sought to save their architecture and build a jewel of a city park. Having been in many of the world’s great cities and having enjoyed their grand parks, it is very easy to see them as among the greatest assets in public life.
One of the greatest and most rewarding journeys one can make in life is the one which leads us to wholeness of mind and body. It is often an arduous journey but the mercies of God do allow us blessed seasons of rest, even if but for the brief span of a couple of hours. On distant journeys, I have often found my rest in churches at midday. At noon I was sitting in a fine old brick Episcopal church when a woman came up behind me, unseen, and kissed me on top of my head. I was quite astonished until the woman apologized profusely and explained that she mistook my balding pate for another one of similar appearance. I readily accepted her apology and told her she could kiss my bald head anytime. Alas, we parted ways with my wondering about this person that dispenses lavish kisses to strange heads.
The 23rd Psalm is often considered the most powerful imagery ever created with words. Most compelling in this endearing promise of hope is the assurance that God will lead us into green pastures for rest and beside still waters for refreshment of our thirsty souls. I was walking with a good friend in the nearby park after leaving the church and he pointed out someone nearby. Sitting at a picnic table by the bucolic lake and fountains that mark the center of Ashland’s crown jewel, was the very woman who had endowed me with her mistaken affections. Perhaps the world really is small, warm and friendly after all. We approached her table and were quickly invited to sit with her. She even offered paper towels to dry the benches, still wet from a morning rain.
I was to soon learn that her wisdom is of far greater value than her kisses. She too is on a long journey to wholeness of mind and body. Sitting at the picnic table by the lake, I felt as if I was in one of the great lecture halls of Oxford or Cambridge. I was offered sage counsel on facing the myriad challenges of life that I quickly discerned had been learned from experience, not from textbooks. I even felt compelled to get pen and paper and make notes, not wanting to risk her pearls of wisdoms to retention in my uncertain wisps of memory. I did, indeed, find great refreshment for a thirsty soul by the still waters of Central Park and rest in a very real field of emerald green grass beneath ancients trees planted by visionaries long gone onto their greater rewards.
I suspect my daily meditations on Psalm 23 will be forever more visual and experiential after my experience today. Central Park in Ashland is a powerful metaphor that brought this Psalm to life today for a weary traveler. I found refreshment and rest from one of God’s messengers and did so in a time of dryness and weariness. Certainly, my experience in Ashland’s Central Park was the equal or better than any of those I had in London’s Hyde Park or Paris’ Luxembourg Gardens. It even bested my luminous times in the Stadt Park of Vienna.
I am reminded of the promises of Isaiah. “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings as eagles, they shall run and not weary, they shall walk and not faint.”
God sent me my own messenger today to tell me it will get better if I wait on him.
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