touching the hand and face of God

Many painters from Michaelangelo and others during the Renaissance have tried to represent the hands and face of God. I would love to be part of that reality now touching and being present with God in the every day. Just as Michaelangelo was laying below the ceiling of the Sistene Chapel or really a cathedral as I think about it.


What he expressed was a representation of what he saw in God. What are your thoughts on what God is like. I'd love to know.

For I do know that God has been experienced through the hearts of the writers in the Bible.

Joseph and Mary's commute

The christmas story has a very long commute in it with Mary and Joseph and Jesus having to travel through the desert.

For in my long commute, I have certain deadlines to meet; a 6:30 bus, a 6:50 bus and an 8:08 bus. Yet, with the family of Jesus they took a little longer to move around and not at a scheduled pace dictated by the department of mass transit.

For I learned that wisemen traveled two years. At first my worship pastor said two hours, and that is like my commute. But two years takes a little longer. And to look up and head towards a star and by faith even before that star arise. To head in a direction that God led them to.

And the three wisemen brought the right gifts along, not ones at deep discount or from standing in long lines, but ones that met Jesus's needs perfectly.

So merry Christmas to everyone and a good night of peace as well.

The ARK

I watched parts of the movie, Evan Almighty. It gave me a cheer to see how a modern day senator becomes Noah as he listens to God even as he gets mocked in front of the assembly. at the end, the angel of the Lord or the Lord himself writes in the earth, ARK for acts of random kindness. In this movie, it showed how we need to stick together in the toughest of times to become a family. The angel even said that you have to learn how to do the dance of life.

I also shared in response to a friend saying life is humbug as I said " you need a bah in front of humbug. Yet, bah is what King David tended, that is sheep. And Jesus is the Great Shepherd, a descendant of King David. So, I saw Bah to whovever wants to respond that way to Him. And I am glad that I did not really mean bah since you brought me around to the real meaning of the Holiday of Jesus even if you are building some new constraints and parameters for me to walk in this faith journey.

Thank you Lord for giving me something to laugh at and to be in your household of faith.

And thanks for reconnecting me to a classmate through a simple response to someone's post. Lord, i only wish I could friend you and have you instant message me back. NOw that would be cool!!!!!!

But you left your messages already in the Word of God and in my Spirit. I just need to poke and prod through them more closely!!!

The Mixing Bowl

Under the counters in my kitchen there are many mixing bowls that I rarely use. I have them stacked with the biggest one on the bottom and I nestle the others within it. Almost like nested dolls.

I was at the holiday concert of the Bridgeport Symphony and I heard the spiritual, He has got the whole world in His hands. As I offered up a small humble prayer for an individual I barely know, I realized that God mixes them up on our behalf. Through the use of the Holy Spirit collectively and separately as well. For He makes something beautiful out of them.
And when I look at our experiences on our earth, our earth looks like a mixing bowl. Just as I have watched dishes being prepared with mixing bowls and on rare occasions have used them myself, the heat of the oven shapes the raw material into something tasty.

Our experiences can be raw but in the heat of His love, He will shape it into something wonderful for people many years from now.
For He does have the earth as the mixing bowl in His hands
shaping and redirecting the world for our betterment.

peace.

scott

Integrity

Humility

generosity

three very unique words with a connection. to be explored later.

from Rick Warren and a friend starting up a local church at the Seaside in
Bridgeport next year.

The ADVENTure

this is the season of advent. Or another way to put it...advent ur ous living. A time to begin anew the walk in faith and also to belong to it in community. When I reflect on the way that God brought about the holiday of Advent, He bore Jesus through Mary at the time of Easter, a time of springing forth and renewal of the earth. A time when seeds must die in order to be brought to life and then on Christmas, Jesus was born to the Blessed Mary to renew the cycle of life and death.

For this Christmas, it is a tough time being down to just mom and not dad. For dad has become part of the very basis of how he started- as dust returns to dust. Or as some movies put it, star dust, the stuff of wonders. That is what I would rather call it.

so I will get on my sled and take the adventure. Avoiding the trees and pushing from behind the sled with snow soaked gloves as I propel the sled forward. Getting some of the white wet snow clinging to my hands, already slightly numb from the deepening cold. Seeing the breath hang upon the winter air. Oh to be a kid again. But now I have the maturity to bless others and understand Him much more deeply. Or times to barely grasp the essence of God at all.

Peace and blessings to the reader. As you live out the advent season. Heading toward Lent as well. To this lent life from Him above.

scott

for a good laugh

For the most challenging of tasks I had to tackle tonight, it was the opening of the cough syrup bottle. What normally takes 20 seconds took almost 30 minutes. I had to pry the bottle with the scissors some, placed it in the dishpan , in a glass of warm water and even used one of the rubber jar grips. I even as I was trying to unscrew the cap, took the skin from my hand and even the prescription label came off. Definitely child proof and even adult proof. so much for trying this at 11;30 at night.

Awaiting for the next sunrise to appear

When my mom, and brother and I gathered in the hospice room for the final few days of my dad's life, she recalled how dad once estimated my dad's knack of knowing one of his nurse's age. She leaned over to her as she was learning how to smash pills in ice cream and said, "you must be 42 years old.: Mom recalled of how everyone on the geriatrics floor laughed. As mom says, "once a numbers man, always a numbers man.: And another instance was when dad had a final dream of being surrounded by a group of 18 men in long white robes.

Dad, you did your math well with the games of gin and with the plopping in of the balls in the game of pool.

And you did a real good job in helping me map my way through the federal tax maze. I remember when you went away from the phone to research issues that I brought up before you.

When I look back at the final couple days at the hospice, I recall looking at the picture on the wall and seeing the aqua and the burnt yellow of the walls-nice earth tones. Just like the earth tones that we had in our kitchen that we ate our oatmeal breakfasts.
After the first day of visiting with dad, mom turned on the light inside of dad's room 305 to light it up. As we left the parking light, we saw the light from his room glowing. It was comforting to us to see that.

On the final time of our visit, we ate at Tim Hortons which was one of my fathers favorite places to grab a meal for under $20,00 for three people. Mom recalled how Dad loved the chicken salad sandwich, the chicken noodle soup and the old fashioned sugar donut and a hot apple cider. I really enjoyed eating and sipping on the soup which had bow tie pastas in it and broth had a gentle seasoning in it. The chicken was dressed with just the right amount of dressing that had a piquant taste to it. And the old fashioned sugared donut had just the right amount of coating of sweetness to it and the hot cider was soothing as i swallowed it.

when we spent the last afternoon in dad's room, I sat by his bedside and shared how I had his favorite meal as I spoke to him. Mom and Randy thought that was cute how I spoke to my dad and how he probably wondered why I was talking about food especially with my dad not eating for the last couple of weeks. My dad was a strong man and hung in there for the arrival of his family.
When I looked at my father's hand, it impressed me that his wedding ring was still on his hand and mom said that has never come off in their 61 years of marriage and that he would be cremated with the ring on his finger. That is a commitment marked to the tee.

After sharing of this lunch, I spent some moments alone with dad saying how i would miss him and I would be fine without him. Randy had shared earlier. I told him it was okay for him to take his trip and send an email back to me from his new destination.I told dad,"of course mom will give you her final okay to go on." As the nurse came in a few minutes later to take a look at dad, one of the final signs that was in the hospice book was apparent when he released some output. When i shared that with mom , she knew that it was probably a matter of a day or so. When I was sitting having lunch, we got a call about 12:10 from the hospice in which they said, "dad died at 11:55 a.m. on November 5th. I threaded the visit just in the knick of time.

At least this bedroom will not change forever and he won't need a guard outside!!!

I still miss you papa but I am plugging along as you told me in a previous conversation as I stood in my lobby at work to share my life with you. Thanks for the final words-not realizing then that they were.

Now no resemblances of my face to share when I was next to you. But you are still 50 Percent of my makeup and complexion and personality.

I am glad that there was a little delay in your taking of your journey. Thi

Taking a turn for the worse.

Looks like the hand to this game is not turning out as I hoped it would. Lots of high cards in the deck of gin. The curtain is about to close on my father's stage and the memories will have to live on.

Getting his bags packed.

This evening when I spoke to my mom on the phone, she provided another spark of humor that my dad distributed to the nurse at the hospice. Dad told her clearly that he was getting his bags packed for a trip and then became silent again. I wonder what dad must be packing for this trip when he leaves earth. For one would need an awful lot of stuff for such a long time.

Dad has lived a simple life and would not want a lot of fluff and flavor paid to him.
When I chatted with mom tonight, she recalled of the joys of the lobster party being crowded in the tent and how dad ate 10 shrimp appetizers, ate the lobsters and sucked out the meat from the claws and even ate his corn and my mom's corn on the cob. He had an appetite at his last big party and he always did when we ate at the table.

So no more big meals with dad at the table but have done so for many years. Only wish that I treasured them more. I should cherish times spent with friends more and I pray these words will help others establish a close bond to their loved ones as well.


At least no weight restriction on baggage. Probably wants to make sure he has enough underwear in case the laundry facilities get very busy in heaven.

Dad makes a mean bowl of oatmeal which is what I had most mornings before heading off to school. I remember him stirring the pot with the wooden spoon and tapping it on the side of the pan. And placing the spoon on the white side plate.

Gods signs

I awoke this morning and asked God to provide me with a sign of His Presence. I sat at my desk and saw a red lady bug at the edge of my desk. I put it in a coffee cup and saw it crawl around in it. Let it crawl on my hand for a few moments.
Then I placed it in the cup and put Kleenex over it. when I removed the cover, I did not see her in the cup.


I left work this evening and saw a rainbow across the sky faintly.

I was reminded by a friend, Kelly, to hang in there. Then I thought of life being a jungle gym. I sure have to hang in there. Sometimes higher up and sometimes low to the ground. There are many colored bars to this jungle gym that I am part of in this playground of life!!!

It is not an easy day for me as I found out my dad is terminal and is at Hospice Care. But I am glad that he will live out the last few months in dignity even though he won't be able to see the ocean directly.

lIfe is difficult for sure. Others have it worse.

Ode to passing by the Fog

Life takes its turns and passageways.
Hard to guide through one's paths
unless under the steady hand of a father and a son.
Lord, you are my father and always be.
As my dad is imperfect and has nooks and crannies of pain.

Lord, remove and clear out those nooks and crannies

Replace them with your grace and love.

Lord, give a chance to whisper into my papas ear before he says goodbye.

Let me tell him that I love him and always will.

Thanks for letting him guide me through the seas of life and to drive on the open seas.

Lord, bless our remaining time together and apart.

Mystery and intrigue

This is the month of the intrigue and this is the 400th post to this blog. Our memoir group along with the rest of Bridgeport and Shelton are reading The Maltese Falcon. Honestly, I am not into the detective story or crime shows on television. I always have trouble finding the plot and figuring out who did it. My mom loves to watch those detective series and movies and have watched many of them during My Maine vacations somewhat intrigued by the dialogue and the adventures of the detectives.

When I was growing up, every few months, I discovered that one of my black socks did not have a mate in my white dresser drawer. Did he or she run off and sneak through one of the holes in the washing machine or dryer. I never quite could figure that one out. Currently I have about a dozen mismatched socks and often run out of the house in the morning wearing some of them together.

When I walk through my life, I am amazed at how my body operates in such a regular rhythymn in my getting up automatically at night and am able to move from point A to point B almost by instinct. The intricacies that are built into our human bodies with all of the systems working in sync with each other. It is amazing to be alive and am taken back occasionally in my being aware of the complexity of it and to be present in an universe that has been created in the same way by our designer. Yet only being slightly aware of how it all works behind the scenes.

In the last few years, I have seen the frailty of life as my dad has traveled through the health care system in Maine using all of the health care components at Piper Shores from the independent apartment to assisted living and now onto the skilled nursing floor and several visits to the hospital.

I wish that I understood exactly what the key is to this puzzle of life in the brain. I myself did not start out with a full deck of neurons . Yet through the patience of my mom and specialists, we discovered ways that I could make sense of the world. It took patience and perseverance to match the different pieces of the jigsaw puzzle. We separated the edges of the puzzle and matched them up and then found patterns, grouped them together and linked the pieces together. Forming a completed image from the top of the puzzle box.

I wonder why some like my dad have neurons that get tangled and reality and daily existence don't have the same rhythm that they used to. That is the nature of dementia. I have witnessed and seen the decline that happens as the natural way of living gets replaced with a dependency and a reliance of others. Roles get reversed and spouses turn into caregivers and life revolves around the solving of problems and issues and less time for the cultivating of the heart. The glimpses of humor and life that used to flow are now replaced by a trickle, a small current of water to be savored in this dry and arid land.

I sure wish that I could bring a fellow like Sam Spade along with me to Piper Shores on Happy Monday and have him travel along our path and point out clues to us to solve our medical problems and mysteries. They are ongoing and constantly changing. Not like Sam's mysteries that involve dead bodies and misplaced love.

Yet amidst this backdrop of understanding the brain, I am grateful to know that God has orchestrated the world in such a way to give me a sense of awe and wonder. I look out at the vastness of space and also at the vastness of the oceans in Maine. I don't see an end to either of them. It would take eons to travel them to the very heights and to their very depths. And discoveries are made every year as to how infinite they are. Being reached with precision by rockets and by submersible boats.

I am thankful to have part of some mysteries such as the northern lights over our Maine cottage. Dad called to mom and I and said," come out and look at the sky." I sat on the stairs with mom and dad and we looked to the sky. We saw thirty minutes of flashing and pulsating yellows and reds and oranges and blues circulating through the sky. We were amazed and full of awe as we witnessed this. Mom and Dad and I did not talk much during this display but listened as the heavens declared glory and beauty to this rare invitation of life along with the sound of the dancing crickets.

The way that life unfolds as a mystery is a lot like a deck of cards that gets played in a hand of gin. I can not see the faces of my dad's cards as he can't see mine. All I see at best are the cards that get discarded, only passing fragments that get shown briefly and then get lost in my memory as the game gets played. Life takes chance and risk to choose the right card and discard the wrong one. Yet the paths that get taken from the same 52 cards are different in each and every game. That is the most fascinating aspect of the game of gin and that journey for me started at the edge of my hospital bed 33 years ago.

I appreciate the quiet aspect of that game along with the few words of wisdom that get handed to me during it. I like the fact that I only have to hold 10 cards and not all 52. I like the fact that I can share the deck with dad and travel through several hands towards the score of 100. The last time I played, dad abridged Hoyle's rules to have a game consist of one hand. Easier to endure and enjoy. Yet, don't tell Hoyle that. At the end of the game, the cards get placed back into the box and put in a drawer. Having tallied up our wins in the ongoing scoreboard of life.

Mysteries are there for us to enjoy and ponder. Life would not be too much fun if they were easy. Wrestling and struggling for the answers can be downright agonizing for me. Yet, I experience joy every time as I look back at my filled squares to a double crostic or cryptogram and see that I solved the puzzle. Yet there are those times that I walk away from some unable to make heads or tails out of the puzzle clues given being frustrated but I knew that I took a stab at them.

So off I go on the adventure of this life. Not knowing what I will face. But willing to take a risk and knock with 6 as ten minutes have passed in the game of gin. Awaiting for my dad's matched cards to be laid down alongside mine and for him to smile as he matches his remaining cards to mine. And for him to lay down the two of clubs. Underknocking me resulting in a score of 29. So it's added up to another win. And for the next game to commence in this lifelong tournament of love and gin.

God Needed to Rest!!!!

It is a calm and restless in this abyss. God walks around and sees that there is no flashlight in his hand. "Oops, I left it at my workshop bench."

How empty is this is pre-existent universe that we can not even see. For I am not God;I have no way of seeing an instant replay of what it was like before. I do have some idea if I wander around in a dark place, holding onto whatever I can find so I don't fall or ask for the help of a friend's hand.

Yet, here is God in the vastness of pre-space. He calls out, "Hey, let there be light!!!! Sorry, Edison, but God beat you to it!!!!!!


To be Continued.... for I need rest!!!!
feel free to comment on this thread.

Record tied!!!

Tonight I watched live on t.v. as Derek Jeter got his 2,721st hit of the career tying Lou Gehrig. Those two men in the same sentence. What historic accomplishments. And on a day with all 9's ;09-09-09
I remember when it was 07-07-07 and i was in Maine and went to the Boothbay Harbor YMCA for a swim. That was quite a long time ago.

Listening to the cicadas

I am here listening to the cicadas and I know it is half-past one. They are one verbal and vocal reminder of God's urban spokesmen for the evening shift. It is good to listen to and hear their sounds. Of the orchestral quality of these stringed instruments.
Can't you imagine them lining up on the stage before a classical music concert and the first cicada gets up and clears his throat and spreads his wings and then sits down. To continue to play beautiful music.

Surrounded by the presence of God in my being contacted by a christian man reminding me of a breakfast that was happening and offering a ride to it, And by a christian woman just checking in to see how family was doing and to see what was new.

Being encouraged to go to www.saddleback.com to listen to an online service. Being blessed on hearing of the authority of Jesus.

And of being encouraged by a high school alumna who was impressed of how I handled it all with courage and wanted to know what was up. Had the chance to share with her a bit. And that gave me a chance to see how far I have come in my life as well.

So I thank you Lord for how I can listen to your orchestra and to see how you orchestrate the little events in my life as well.
Especially when I sometimes think that you are one thousand miles away when you are only 10 feet in front of my bedroom window.

Now I lay my head back on the pillow to hear the rest of God's opus no 92.
Thank you Lord!!!!!!

Teardrops resting against my eyes

I am experiencing a flood of emotions as I face the distance of family not just in nautical and land miles but in emotional miles as well. I crave closeness and connection but am substituting that with excuses and delays in visits lately. At times I am blaming God for not having things work out but I have to cling onto and remember the good times that we have had as a family. I will just have to used to a new terrain as I will be spending some more time in another wing at Piper Shores upon my quarterly visit to Maine. I will have to treasure this time that I have and realize that there may be some golden moment to discover about my parents that I never knew before.


Lord, help the teardrops that rest and lay across my eyes to be a portal to show true emotion to my dad and mom. To be the devoted son that they need and to fill in the gaps of love that may be missing.


And to celebrate the ones that are there already.

The Mysterious Landscape

Being around the Atlantic Ocean Of Maine, I have been surrounded by beauty. I have always loved the seashore from when I was thirteen years old to now as a forty-six year old. Three decades have passed since I first was introduced to her as a teenager by mom and dad.

Now, when I think of the sea coast, I do appreciate its splendid beauty but I tend to hold her hand less than I used to. Not that I don't love her any less than I did.

When I first went to the seashore during my summer holiday, I looked intently into her eyes and saw the ravishing beauty under her makeup. I saw her flowing eyebrows as her surf and exploding spume as the garland around her neck. Jewels cast from within my soul to hers.

Now as I visit, I sometimes place my back to her view and treat her nonchalantly. Yet, I do enjoy making my visit. But now it can be tinged with a sense of sadness as I eventually see my time within another decade of this quarterly ritual coming to an end.

Now my dad has entered another stage in his ongoing illness of parkinsons and alzheimer-type dementia. The staff at the Piper Shore's home and my mom felt it was time to provide my dad with more daily supervision and give mom a break in the daily caregiving as well. Right now, I don't know exactly what I will face when I make my pilgrimage back to Maine in another few weeks.

Now that Dad has his own assisted living apartment of his own, he commented to us recently, let us count up the number of bedrooms that we have as a family. First, the main apartment of Mom and I in Piper Shores, mine, Scott's, Randy's in minnesota and Erica's and Abby's. That brings a little levity to the situation since I thought of the same thing a few days earlier. A common link with a sense of humor in a difficult moment that we all face.

A plus of Dad's that would be real cool for me to have is the daily provision of a three meal plan and three snack times. Almost like being back in college and showing up at the cafeteria with my tray to enjoy unlimited entrees of salad and main meal and desserts.

Yet, this will mean that we won't all be eating as a family at our meal times when I visit since dad will be sharing some of his meals in his assisted living wing. It has been a family tradition of ours to share our meals together. I always made it a point to be up in time to do this and if I awoke a little later, dad would be already eating or sitting down after his meal to read some of the daily paper.

Another change for me is that I will no longer have a roommate to share my time with when I sleep. I will have dad's bedroom in the apartment all to myself. A pretty spacious place with some of the furniture out. My own bed and bathroom wing and no snoring or carousing while trying to go to sleep. When we first started the Piper shore journey, I slept on an inflatable mattress with a coverlet over it and a blanket on top. I sometimes would squirm around trying to find the exact balance so I would stay on top of it without the blanket or sheet falling off of it. Then I graduated to the twin bed when mom and dad bought two twins to replace the Queen bed that my dad had. And now to a room by myself.

Mom commented recently that when they went to the cafe for lunch, Dad commented, "I have never seen this room before, WHat is it"?" Mom commented to him," don't you remember, this is the cafe where we have had lunch many times before."

That is the nature of dementia that I am going to have to face head on. I never will know what will come upon me. Almost like as I sat next to the side of the porch in Maine listening to the surf pound its way through the chug hole on the edge of the coast. A chug sound came in random intervals making a rich and melodic sound.

I hope that dad remembers me when I visit and the joys that we used to have going on the Rascal W power boat going fishing and for long excursions along the coast of the Sheepscot Bay to our time rendevousing with the Victory Chimes as she set sail for the Windjammer days to the time that Dad, Randy and I journeyed on the Victory Chimes for an August weekend in Maine.

I am glad that on my March journey of this year that I had the opportunity to dive into Lisa Genova's book called, Still Alice, which is a fictional account of someone with alzheimers disease written from the perspective of the woman going through it. When I read it in the recliner which faced the ocean, I saw nuances of dad's behavior in how Lisa portrayed her character, Alice. It gave a better understanding of this illness as I also witnessed mom dealing with it with her own mom as well.
I find it reassuring at each of my journeys to the coast, i am prepared a little more for the struggles that our family faces and it provides a sense of comfort for me to know that just as Maine is a solid coast that has been etched at for centuries is still there, so it is with Mom and Dad. That they are still there.
A far way from when Dad and mom wore their hard hats inspecting the progress of their complex being built from the ground up.

Yet the stages that our family has gone through can be termed a sense of mourning what has been lost. Of lost memory, lost opportunities and lost hope at times. Yet, it provides for me a sense of preparation for being together and of drawing us close again.

Yet, I am thankful that Maine provides me a place to go and be with my parents. I often have commented of how I love being with them to see the view and spend time with them when I am visiting.

Yet, I need to put on some pearls and look intently into her face and hug her intently. Seeing the very essence of my family heritage in her spume that has been passed down onto me.

The Mysterious Landscape

Dorsal Fins of Memory

Dorsal Fins of Memory.
What do I remember
of how you effortlessly swam through life.
Connecting from one moment to the next
from one school to the next
Now Struggling as you go from point A to point B.

Making splashes and ripples through the seas of time
Creating an undercurrent of emotion and compassion

Lift up your fog so I can see clearly beyond the mist of time

Let my emotions become part of your fog
Remember the journey as we passed by Hendricks Head Light,
fully becoming one with you.

Innocently trusting your instincts
believing in your strengths and resourcefulness

Let me hug you more , Papa, and appreciate all the little stuff that you have done for me.
For those days of time that remain between us.

God is the only functional family~~~

As I look around at the world, I long for being within a functional family unit. Yet, I have not found that. This world is that of dysfunction. For even when God created Adam and Eve, he gave them instructions on not eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. He told them not to eat of that fruit or they surely would die.

For they did out of their own choice, being lured by deceit and craftiness of the enemy.

But God's family of the Trinity is surely a functional family unit-of God being willing to create a world and lose some control over what happens at any given time. Yet part of this mystery is that God is already in control of our planet. I don't really understand how He can do both=except to say that God is all-knowing and He knows what is best. For He needs to provide man some freedom for man so we are not automomous robots as my pastor Dave has mentioned on several occasions during church.

For God was willing to humble himself and become a man and be obedient even to die as this man, Jesus. And God was able to see His son go through this and be alone for a period of three days until His son was resurrected. For everyone knows the roles of the others in this Trinitarian family.

For I long to be like the Trinity=even in one small facet of its existence. And long for insight from readers such as you as to how to make it work so well and encourage the reader to pass this along as we all journey in this walk of Faith this side of Heaven's call.

leftovers

It sure would be nice to email leftovers to others. and then to e-wave them to the dinner table.
Maybe in 2050 we will have a way to invent a procedure to send over the net the great tasty dishes that the Marthas of the world create!!!!

graduation day~~~

No caps and gowns this time around. Yet, my dad graduates to a new phase in his life as he moves across the bridge and over into the Holbrrook community of Piper Shores.



My dad's stuff has been moved to the assisted living community of Piper Shores. As my mom mentioned earlier in the week, my dad told her in a lucid moment, " let us count the number of living rooms our family members are going to have." I was even thinking the same thought. We will have 5 for our family members, one for each one of us.
And my dad is getting a whole big closet again and when I stay, I will be able to be in his old room and will have the whole room to myself. You see, I graduated from sleeping on an inflatable bed in the room to being in my own twin luxury bed next to my dad and now the whole room to myself.

My dad and i look alike and at birth, people knew whose son I was. It will seem different when i go up to visit next month not having my roommate whom I have spent time in many states from Arizona to Minnesota to Maine. But there comes a time in life when those transitions need to be made. We talked about it frequently in a "if things don't improve, you' ll go over the bridge to Holbrook assisted living. Not that I am positively thrilled with the outcome but I am relieved that Dad will be watched and if he tries to take a 3 am shower, he will have staff monitoring his activities and he will have activities to participate in.

To get ready for the move, my mom had to label the linens and clothing with laundry marker -almost reminding her of getting her kids ready for camp. That is the benefit of having built in respite for caregiving. Maybe this change will refresh everyone involved and be a full blessing for our family as well.

That is the trouble with dementia and not being fully aware of one's surroundings. I read in the winter a great book, Still Alice, by Lisa Genova who illustrated alzheimers from the perspective of the patient and the downward spiral. It was funny and yet poignant in parts. I have witnessed similar things in my dad since he has an alzheimer's type dementia.

And I know God was in this whole adventure when one of the cleaning staff who helped clean my folk's unit showed my dad what one of the assisted living rooms, C309 , looked like and then when mom shared with the nursing staff of his activity at night, they took action and approved him for the room.

So life has its changes yet Dad will have activities with peers his own age and condition. Something that has been really needed yet not present when he was on the independent side.

So no more snoring or risings up to witness. Let's hope that is not me in 35 years from now. But that is the beauty of life care, thanks to be introduced to it by my dad's sister, Marion, who was a nurse in Florida and lived in that very kind of community.

And thanks to my mom's keen eye in seeing Piper Shores in Down East one summer advertised even before shovels went in the ground. For they even went on site during construction with their hard hats to witness its going up.

So don't forget to turn your tassel to the side, Dad,when you walk into C309 and enjoy the new chapter in life as well.

Transitions and moves

It is hard for me to accept transitions in life. I learned that my dad is going to transition over to assisted living in the Piper Shores complex. Hard to take that kind of news sometimes. Yet, when aging accentuates quickly with dementia and parkinsons, that is inevitable. And God's grace was present since a room opened up this past week and my folks saw it beforehand.

Lord, in life, there are all kinds of transitions. I think of when you created the universe. That was a big transition going from a big black void of darkness and then going into this beautiful dazzling world of light, even with the mars on it with the disorders and diseases that prevent my dad from living a productive elderly era like I see others in their 80's doing.
But God, you give my mom strength and the resources within Piper Shores and you opened up the slot at just the right time so that your hand is present. Lord, help me not throw my fist in the air in madness but help me realize your hand is upon our family.

Help me Lord to realize transitions happen. Even this morning at church, I heard a friend say that someone moved to heaven and the person's body expired. A different way of looking at it.

God, you have made other transitions in life. There is the one where once you created the universe and the planets and everything that lives on the planet earth, you then made Jesus as an infant over two-thousand years ago. And you helped him through his terrible twos and his adolescence and his early adulthood. You gave Him wisdom and perseverance. You also gave Him the ability to stay away from the devil's schemes and yet, you had Him die on a tree and go to a grave and descend to Hell for our sins, BUT you raised Him from the dead. So thanks for your example, that you are in the moving business. Help me accept the moves within my own parent's lives and help me Lord not to angry but to look to you for the comfort and encouragement as I reach out to others as well.

The music of our lives

Ever consider yourself at the center of a big concert stage and our audience are the folks who influence our very lives.

Music is an integral part of my life. For me the enjoyment of it goes back to when I was in elementary school and our class put on a concert for the town. One of the songs, In the Çorner of the world we sang many times. My mom and dad came to the concert and at the end, I was thoroughly exhausted from having sung it that I could not speak too clearly, but enjoyed the moments sitting at the kitchen table slowly sipping some hot chocolate.

Singing music has been a passion of mine as I have sung as part of my congregation and youth led fellowships and bible studies. We spent time in the dorm room singing praise songs to 'God and each other while Amanda played her guitar and I enjoyed repeating the refrains over and over with my friends. Hearing the melody of the words wash over each other. Imagining what the lyricist must have felt when he created the full-bodied tunes.

At my sunday morning class, I get to hear the choir and vocal teams rehearse their pieces before the service starts. It has a magical quality being below where the music is sung and hearing it in the distance creates a special sense that does not get duplicated when I am in the midst of the congregation singing those same words. They are the same exact words and melody but being immersed in it, it is hard to capture that same essence.

Many times when i am getting ready for work in the morning, I will sing tunes that come to me at random to me-making me like a juke box where I randomly put in a quarter and out comes one of the songs listed on the roster of tunes.
Yet, I tried that during a retreat as I was getting showered at 6 in the morning and Paul sternly told me, "please Scott, no singing in the shower at this time of morning, even with your love of the Lord. Hey, we men are trying to sleep!!:" Yet, that never deterred me at home as I will spontaneously burst out in song with part of a popular lyric, and it does not matter if I get lost midway through the first verse. Singing it is like reciting poetry, hearing the words rhythmically dance across the air.

Music has a special effect on my friend, Gary, from the Kennedy Center. I brought him and his housemates to our christmas holiday program at church and he made a special connection with the choir even before he became part of our congregation.
He refers to it periodically of how special the choir members are to him. Mike in the choir has been very helpful in providing him and myself with rides and spending time at dinners and baseball games. Judy is special to Gary's heart in the way she speaks to him and stands sturdily besides him and can encourage him if he has had a rough week. They became part of his extended family.
Even though Gary can not sing the words eloquently, what comes from his inner being and soul is genuine.

Classical music is another one of my passions. I attend the local Bridgeport Symphony at the Klein auditorium and have been a faithful subscriber for the last few seasons. It is great to be able to hear the various composer's works performed before the able-bodied hands of Gustav Meier. Meier travels a great distance from Switzerland to conduct these concerts but he makes a good connection with his audience.

I go with several from my building,, and we sit together in a row of the red upholstered chairs. My neighbor Polly, across the hall from me, humbly performs some solo pieces from memory since she is legally blind and no one would know that she has this handicap;. Often when I am passing by the hall and hear her playing I will stop for a moment and enjoy her few brief strokes at the piano , Janet my neighbor who drives several of us to and from the symphony observes often of how before Meier came the symphony was not as great as it is now with his international fame. Intertwined in the concerts are stories that Meier tells of the composers lives and what the pieces of the music reflect in life at the time. He likes to tell of colorful dances and movements reflecting the moods of love found and love lost. At times after he puts down the microphone after making his few comments, he bows curtly to the audience and his white head of hair shows and his love for the music flows smoothly out of him as he conducts his pieces with poise and grace.
When I listen to the pieces, I find it hard to interpret them the same way that he shares, but it offers me a moment to appreciate the piece a little differently than if I were to hear it walking through the mall or hearing it over the radio at work.
When I walk through the concert hall, I will meet up with several friends that I have not seen in a while to catch up on her their lives are.


One summer when in our rental cottage in Maine , mom took a Sarah Brightman CD out of its case and played it during our lunchtime. I never before heard such a crystal clear voice and we enjoyed listening to her. Later that fall when i was home in Bridgeport, i noticed the local Arena at Harbor Yard was presenting, Sarah Brightman's Harem tour in concert. I immediately booked the ticket and sat in Section 106 directly across from where the stage was set up. I was seated midway up from the arena floor and it provided me with a birds-eye view as she moved amongst her dancers and was lifted high on her trapeze as she sang the songs while she wore her flowing white gown and had her hair adorned with a bright crystal crown. A lot of the songs had a middle eastern component but the words and tones were rich and fertile with meaning.. Reflecting of how in that part of the world during early civilization's new birth.
I just sat there dazzled and amazed at the beauty of her music having just discovered her a few months prior through a borrowed CD collection that we randomly opened up and listened to her.
After the concert, I purchased several of her CDs and have most of her music at home and my mom has done the same thing. Occasionally when we are together in Maine, mom will put on one of her CDS and listen to it also amazed at the clarity of her voice.


One saturday when I was getting together with friends at the local Andros diner, George Paci commented maybe there will be door prizes that day. When my friend Mark was at the diner, he commented that he recently updated his ipod and was looking to sell his used one. I often saw this ipod in his car as he played it while giving me a ride home from an event. He showed it and I took it and tried on the headphones and spun the dial back and forth getting a handle on how it operates. I subsequently have added several thousand songs and podcasts from collections from the itunes music store and from my own personal collection of cds. Yet, I rarely take the time to dust it off and turn it on to be inspired by all kinds of excellent genres of music that are out there. Yet, there is a world out there that I should myself of so I can someday during a retreat perform a different routine in the shower and maybe win an audience of Paul and the others of my singing in the shower. Yet, I have gotten no encores for my 6 am performance. Definitely would be not be sung to sold-out concert halls and definitely without Michael's swagger and without a white glove.

I have found that music is to be lived and loved. And I am thankful for the composers and songwriters who have magically put together notes and words in such a way that they are celebrated world wide in the presence of our friends and family.

the Lord's pain

Being the Lord's disciple is never easy. Especially when having to make decisions that I hope will work out to the best.
I can imagine Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane telling his best friends of his future without them. Of how He does not want to burden them with much of the pain and sorrow that will follow throughout their life in the walk through Bethlehem. Of just wanting to tell them of what they can handle. And not burdening them further.
For even Peter, one of Jesus' closest disciples had trouble with His master's instructions to keep awake and not fall asleep.

This week I was asked to arrange a ride for a good friend of mine who does not drive and does not have a full understanding of the nuances of life. In my arrangement for his ride, I knew that it might not work perfectly but I provided all the details needed re phone numbers, address and the like. When the plans failed to happen in my friend, Gary, not making it to the game, I felt bad deep down inside in not having gone to some other key players in his life. I was trying to extend those who he could know and interact with. Yet, it back fired badly.

Lord, I can understand a little more of how you in your life had a few back fires in your life. but I am very thankful that you have the power to create great things such as the universe just from your speaking.

And how you gave us imagination to create things out of nothing that was there before.

And being caregivers for others who are dependent on them is not easy. For I see it in my life. With my father dependent on my mother for his care and well being. Of my mom being responsible for my grandmother and with my being dependent on others and mass transit to get me to where I need to go.

Yet, Lord, you are marvelous. For you care for the sparrows among us and have left us the Holy Spirit. Yet, Lord, I am having trouble accessing the Holy spirit lately. As if I have forgotten the password to open it up. I know your Bible is there but I have failed to open and diligently study it!!!
Lord help to realize that you are at my side!!!!!

praise be to your never ending grace!!!!

For He does this eloquently in the upper room discourse. And He tells them in John 14 to not be afraid. Just as Joshua tells others, to not be afraid.

A time of Sorrow.

Mortal sadness
turns to immortal gladness.

Times of sand
captured in a bottle
gently cascading upward in time.
leaving behind a murmur of a footprint on the soul's memory
the faint heartbeat
and then silence.

Deeply recessed and hidden from view.
No public memorial of sadness to share
Only an inner grief and turmoil

May the gentle wake of the waves caress along the shores of ones life.
Evening out the hurt in time.

Weaving in and out of time
hard to patch up the scars with needle and thread.
No need to ...yet.

Just to be silent and reflect on life. Life lost and life gained.

The soul-a bitter collection of herbs- of hopes dashed against the rocks of time.

yet Look to the sky above and see that God is good.
see the Heavens speak of His glory.

Hear and smell the spume of the seashore.

The waves washing along the coast in riplets, mourning the passing of life.

tears lacrimating
Life's flows- a product of life.

May days ahead reflect the emerald green of immortal gladness upon the shores of time.
washing amidst our deepest sorrows. of those mortal griefs we do indeed share.

May God's special angels be present
as candles get lit.
announcing and sharing in the little one's brief appearance on earth within the womb
touching our lives in ways not yet seen--
As guardians at the gates of time.

Marching to God's drumbeat!!!

Isaah 40:31 is a favorite passage of mine. The verse starts out with "but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength."
In that portion of the verse is a promise that even in despair or uncertainty, hope is a constant.

The verse goes on by saying, "they will soar on wings like eagles. It brings to mind a picture of rising above one's circumstances on earth. For no matter how low one goes, God will lift the person up and bring them to the right location-to be a little closer to God.

The verse continues by saying, "They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not be faint." This brings to mind the image of a marathon. This requires endurance.

And of stamina. For when we go through God's maze of life, we will end up on the winning side of life!!!

May the reader be blessed in the reading of this.

the wading room

I know of several pregnant ladies and when I thought of the phrase, waiting room for the womb and then came up with an even greater one=that of a wading room. For that is what the infant to be is in for his or her 9 months. A room that is padded with smooth walls and plenty of room to do laps around the pool many times. And time to sleep and rest and get ready for the upcoming busy days of life.

Time to have all of his or her organs neatly knit together and to be wired with all the connections by the master electrician. For indeed the human body is an amazing gift that has been given by God.

And an author from the Jesus community blog suggested that the mind and body and spirit of man is a counterpart to the trinitarian nature of God which was enlightening.

His site is www.communityofjesus.blogspot.com

blessings to those who read this!!!

The seeds planted.

Looking at the 65th anniversary of D-day, the young men and women who sacrificed their lives contributed to the freedom that we now experience. It is upon their blood that our lives rest upon. Having a country that is one and not divided by competing outside rulers.

It is hard to look at the country at times to see how divisive it is at times. But that is the beauty of this thing called democracy. We can have many people coming out at many different directions. Yet, it is the unifying thread of the blood and sacrifice of others. In my hometown of Bridgeport CT, they had the unveiling of the World War II memorial. It was surrounded with almost the same hype and excitement as that of the Extreme makeover team which has the audience scream in advance, "move that bus."

While there was no bus to move, the unveiling happened by one who designed the granite memorial who has seen 2 battles in Iraq and another gentleman in the armed forces. As the white canvas came off, the black granite, simple yet magnificent, came into view.

And this brings me into view the cross of Christ which represents the ultimate in the blood spilled for us. Of how Christ had to spill his blood for us to live. To give us a transfusion of life for which we are to breathe.

Those transfusions continue to flow inward as the church and the faith is built on the blood of the martyrs as a DVD stated. For the first seeds of the church indeed stand on the blood of the martyrs. Marked by the bravery of soul, whether defending the land of freedom or the bulwarks of faith for generations to come.

So thanks be to the foot soldiers who allowed these things to happen.

Happy D-Day to all!!!!!

setting sail

At church yesterday, there was a drama of a mother and daughter. The mom was frightened to leave the dock and set out to sea while the daughter was eager to begin her adventure out to sea.

The shoreline that I am comfortable with has many landscape features. I like being surrounded by my facebook account, my emails and my blogs that I read.

yet, sometimes I am afraid to get my apartment ready so I can have friends over to share a simple meal and myself and my God.

Help me God to untie my boat and get out in the world more and bring the world into mine so I can better embrace the lives of my dear friends and shed some of my heart onto them.

To make us all better people.

Giving and receiving

It is not Christmas or a birthday. Yet the idea of presents can be on my mind at times. I have a hard time sometimes as I relate to others. To shed my shell easily.
The idea of giving of myself in conversation is difficult as I am overwhelmed by the washing of the spume over the beach. I am that pebble that gets assaulted on the beach over and over again. I wish that I could just receive that wave torrent gradually and understand nuances of relationships.
At times, it can be a little overwhelming. I don't know if it is from my neurological difficulties or just stubbornness. I do want to give and receive in a relationship, Lord. Just show me how I can do that better.
And I am sensitive, Lord, for I tickle easily.

You sum it up best as you prepared the brunch in John 21 as you prepared a meal for your disciples after Peter handed you the fish from the net!!!

I am ready to sit down to a meal with you, Lord.

Back to the shore

Jesus is back at the shore, calling the disciples back to remembrance to where they came from.
So here are Peter and his other disciples, of whom Jesus calls them as friends.

They set out on a fishing journey that was fruitless to begin with but when Jesus directs them to cast the net on the other side of the boat, the fish fill their nets to the full without breaking any of the net. It was sturdy to hold the whole shebang together.

In the final acts of the Gospel of John, Jesus is portrayed as a servant again , acting as a hostess for the disciples. Helping them not to fear as they did prior in the open room when he appeared the second time after his resurrection. What his appearing did was allow them to see who He really was.

This may be the secret of why I am afraid to learn and be comfortable around others sometimes. I need to trust God to set out my nets. Or to try to put them on the right side of the boat. I do desire Godly friendships with women but it is with God's direction that I will reel in the biggest catch that will serve me well in my life.

Which is why Jesus placed this parable at the very end -of how the act of fishing, serving and sharing a meal under His Lordship will bring the most satisfaction in one's life. As one can travel back in time through the Gospel of John, we see Jesus as the guest at the wedding acting as a servant and Jesus at the upper room before His death washing his disciple's feet. And healing those who were around Him also.

What a fascinating and multi=faceted God we serve!!!!
And what we see and hear in scripture is the tip of the iceberg for St. John said there would not be room for everything written about Jesus. All within a three year period of productive ministry=having learned which side to throw down His nets.

The Universe declares your majesty!!!!

Looking out from the video shots from the space shuttle Atlantis, I see the shots of our blue planet orbiting in space. This brings to mind the lyrics of the the song, "The universe declares your majesty.
For the universe can not recite scripture but God has given it a special language through which it can communicate God's goodness through the turning of a leaf in the wind. For it is this special language by which we are invited into the heart of God.

This is the first text that nature had back with God. For God can communicate with His creation in a variety of ways. yes, the cosmos can argue back at God with the floods and earthquakes, tornados and other disasters. But it can also respond back with glorious growth after these as well.

For whether I see a discarded snake skin on the side of the road or a budding leaf, all of it is a wonder that God created the world and included me in His plan as well. And He will return me back to dust to be part of His future creations as well!!!!

I can relate to that song , "God of Wonders" well by Chris Tomlin. For I understand and feel how he writes of how we need to celebrate the light and how we stumble in the darkness. It is easy when one starts out the day celebrating what God has done in our lives but often we stumble in the dark. Yet, we need the light to be shone on our lives. Just as the astronauts shone the light on the Hubble space telescope so its repairs could be done.

And they did so in conditions that they were not used to on a daily basis with the exception of the simulators. For we as christians face the same spots. We are called to live counter culturally as well. Yet I can celebrate with God with the way He clashes with culture as well.

Moving Day

I have learned over the past four months the value of scripture memory. I have learned how to move scripture around in my head and on paper and from the pages of scripture itself. Lord, I hope to learn even more how I am to move it around in my heart so that I may become more like Christ and more like the apostles and disciples that lived around the time of Jesus. May everyone be encouraged to remember the Scriptures and be filled with the joy of living well with Jesus.

An Opus of work

I was listening to a commencement address of President Obama at ASU. He stressed the idea of the opus of one's work. And the fact that it is never finished. The opus of any idea or work comes with the commencement of it. the word commencement stresses a beginning and also a completion too. It is a process for moving forward in a straight line- to meet some sort of objective.

I also reflect on how NASA is developing programs that will take travelers from the earth to the moon to Mars. And the lengthy journeys it will require and the stamina to develop the programs for these.

And today, the Hubble telescope is in the waiting room of the opthomologist. It is getting his drops now and will have its lenses dilated for the exam. Plenty of tight corners to peer through. And a hefty price tag. For spectacles that large cost A LOT. But the benefits for this exam will be great!!!

Flight To Paradise Island

Boarding for flight number 303 to the paradise down by the sea. Looking down from the picture window
seeing the lawn's sloping towards the patch of autumn swail and the sea beyond.

Mom is at the cockpit smoothly gliding this stately ship along its path. With her son, Scott, as a frequent attender and with Randy, my brother along with our dad at her side. We have not always had the time to be fully together in Maine at one time. But it was good to be. And to give my dad something to look forward to. Something that he really wants.
That has not always been this way with many delays and frustrations. Yet, this time it felt good to be together to slowly heal some of the mysteries of the distance and depth of our family.

Challenges crop on the instrument panel next to Mom's stick shift of life. The winds bellow forth making the plane hit some turbulence. We as a family never really know what the flight plan of the day will be.

As my mom is in charge of the dispensing of the daily medicines from 8 in the morning until 8 at night. As mom recalls to me often, "I never thought life would turn out this way, with me being caregiver for Walt." She cuts dad's happy pill in the blue pill cutter and closes its lid to remind her to give it to my dad. Mom also has to dispense the daily parkinsons, dementia and sleep disorder pills as well. My dad is a living walking pharmacy. It keeps him well and the illnesses at a controlled pace.

Mom reacted to me once when I told family ," Dad is fine." She said, " you know dad is ill." I do find it hard to admit that sometimes. I do say to others, "Mom does a good job taking care of my dad," I like to think of him as the fellow I went fishing with, took rides to the store and post offices, and had a few good times on the links and swimming at the Fairfield YMCA.

Yet, the reality of pill bottles and glasses of water surround our table. And the reminders to take the pills as well. Mom opens up the bottle or plastic baggies and places the multicolored pills in dad's hands and Dad gracefully swallows them with his water.
I find it hard seeing Dad this way , but I have the good memories and the times we continually share on the phone each week and the times that I have been his faithful roommate on vacations from Arizona to Maine to Minnesota. Something that not many sons can say that they have had.

Even the silence through sleep can be blessing. Or observing the occasional nocturnal dance of shadows that I have observed. Knowing that I am present with Dad for the time while I am on vacation with mom and dad.
A kind of blessing. A continuity. Just as the waves that have crashed the shore of Maine for many centuries, etching the rocks ever slowly- washing and shining them clean.

Our view out of the window of this spreading estate housing the Jocelyn and Kirkwood wings of Piper shores is of the Higgins beach to our left and the gingerbread house in front of us. And we see Sprague point ahead in the Harbor and a look at several islands in the distance. These islands look like distant cousins to some of the others that we have faced elsewhere Down East.
Whenever our guests arrive for a visit, they always comment, " this is the best view of the whole of Piper Shores.: Mom has commented that their jaws have dropped at times. There are only 6 of these units with such a sweeping view in each of the wings. How blessed that we have been able to pack a picture perfect view to each of our Maine outposts.

Which also makes it a perfect place for Dad to be guided through the last years of his life with my mom at his side. Mom has commented often to me how she talks to the health staff frequently in the frustration of her roles sometimes. Mom sometimes says, " I don't feel like a wife at times and am not a widow." One of the nurses said to her," what you are in, Lois, is in transition." Mom said, "that assured me."

Standing at the door keeping it open, letting in the fresh air and nutrients and keeping the illness in check. Blocking its full assault. Letting it gradually enter, but not to overwhelm us.
I look at my parents as full of grace and love. It is hard to face the gradual loss of who my dad is. And it is hard for me to sometimes let a wave of emotion to spread over me. For a tear to run down my cheek.

When I look at a tide chart or look out through the picture window, the changes in the tide are evident. The water ebbs and the water flows. The water hugs the sky's complexion, going from a bright blue sometimes to that of a somber grey. Yet, it looks to the sky to wear its coming outfit of the day with grace. And it gradually approaches and hugs the shore, something it has done for many centuries. Making its gentle marks on the earth. Just as mom makes gentle marks on her loved ones as well.

That is my mom. She tackles the rigors of the day. She gives to the community at Piper shores whether on the library which has been noted as one of the premier North East retirement community libraries. The library has a good collection of biographies, to poetry, science, fiction and mystery and local maine authors featured to name a few categories. I enjoy time browsing through the shelves as mom puts away the recently returned books or pulls the cards for books that no longer circulate. It is on the second floor of the Checkley Wing of the Piper Shores complex, the same wing as the fitness center and the guest rooms which I sometimes have used. Mom also spends some time at the store selling the basics such as cereal, milk, orange juice and toilet paper. Mom says, "this is my time of respite-to be able to volunteer and help others."

From my own life, I am thankful for the role moms play in life and especially my mother. Even early on as I have shared previously, she employed her same gentle touch as she guided my life. From her first initial touch of me as an infant to the time she got into action in the huddle on her knees to jump start my life. As she reached out her arms out to raise this son, Scott, to life. To switch on the ignition switch to my engine of life.

We have been faced many hardships with my moms mom struggling in her last ten years with dementia and with my neurological difficulties and with my father's neurological issues as well. Yet, I find that constancy on the shore and the woods and in nature to be reassuring. To look out and see the shore present always.

The Pilot comes on and says, "Buckle your seat belts for the descent down through some turbulence."
When the plane lands and the view fades off into the distance, my memory takes hold of the scenes. Awaiting for another announcement for the return to paradise at the seashore. To hear that announcement of the universal gull calling me back for summer's commencement.

A break from the media.

The tides of the ocean come in and wash over the land.
When I grew up on the summer journey to the Maine cottage, we looked at the tidal charts which hung on the dampened paneled wall and monitored much of what we did that day on how the tides behaved. That was our major source of media for our natural cove at the time.

Often we would look outside and see when the lobstermen were coming in close to shore to pull their traps. During times of low tide, we could see large expanses of the mud flats. When the tide waters crested and headed towards shore, the land became submerged as the lobstermen maneuvered their skiffs and lobster boats to their pot buoys.

While the men were pulling their traps, we had the chance to watch their world through our binoculars. The exhaust from the boats puffed from behind them and we could hear the voices echoing from the shore. We saw them leaning into each other as their boats swayed with the Shepscot's river's current and saw them pulling on the winch to bring the traps to the side of their boats. The men were dressed in their red flannel shirts covered over by the yellow rain slickers and on they wore boots.

We did not watch the evening news since our cottage did not have a television. And I was not as knowledgeable about the outside world of politics and life since I lived most of the prior years in a sheltered and protective bubble of The School, a magnet school for the handicapped in Long Island, New York. During this time, I faced daily challenges of getting going in life. I sometimes hid under desks when loud noises happened and sometimes withdrew so I would not face things I did not want to.
And my mind had not become challenged and turned on to interpret my outer world. The world that I knew at the time was developing an academic routine and a set of life skills of speaking, walking and eating in order to thrive. When my mom and dad and I get together for our retreats in Maine, mom recalls to me of how she had to tickle my feet to wake me as an infant to get me to take some milk. Mom often says, "look at him now, he eats everything from our house and home. Now I am pleased to see how our son is doing so well."

You see, my dad has been a slight mystery to me. He has been a gentle giant of few words and limited by his own handicaps of 3/4 loss of his hearing and his gradual loss of his memory. Yet, we are woven together in our appearance and temperaments by our shared handicapped worlds.

What I have often wished is how the media could have portrayed for me a more close-up view of how youngsters with disabilities can deal more effectively with their worlds.
Just as the tide crests over onto land-preparing the rocks for their shiny appearance. Smoothing down their rough-hewed appearance to be held in one's hand by that gentle touch.

Instead during the evening hours, we would spend time on our front porch on the rockers as we watched the evening gulls pass overhead towards home at Gull Rock. This summer world in Maine when I grew up was simple. Yet seeing the routine of these simple things brought my inner being back into an equilibrium for me. A good pendulum for patience and restoring of a seethed soul.

I often asked my mom and dad why did the children treat me so badly. For I was the same person who left the private world of the School and entered the subsequent world of public school of which I never experienced before.
Times spent in being misunderstood by others and a lack of how people can be fairly treated. In a way, I wish that people could be treated more fairly and less critically. It hurt when I was not always treated well. I realize now that Media can play a crucial role in this as they portray in inspirational stories of how others survive and thrive in their hardships.

These times in Maine as I have written before have been moments when I have been encouraged to look at the natural beauty of a sunset or the scene of workers on their yachts or skiffs or lobsterboats.

And as a time to see how the thread of my Master Weaver has built a tapestry for me. To realize what I once thought was lost has now been found. To treasure moments with my parents. And seeing the importance of building foundations in my life. Just as looking at the simple tide chart on the wall. Being the only media that I needed at the time to understand the heart of Maine, my beloved.

An Easter Poem

Trees grow. Trees are cut down. Trees serve their purpose.

Just think, Jesus.

Born in a feeding trough by the lowing animals.
As a man being apprenticed by his step-father Joseph at the carpenters bench.
Yet Jesus is the carpenter of the world and the human soul.

Jesus facing the cross at Good Friday.
The table which we all face as we remember your death Jesus on that tree.

Yet, I am glad that I can cling to that old rugged cross. And be cleansed of my sin at each and every
moment when I often fail to see the big picture as I live life.

Your story is retold countless times Jesus as we gather around the pews of our churches and the sands on the beaches.
Listening to the birds on the shore and feeling the coolness go past our ears.

Lord,, let us open our hearts to you
just as you opened up that tomb of darkness.
You let that light in.
Let us enter in as well.
Experiencing the joy of your salvation.

For even the trees of the fields clap their hands with Joy.
Yes, even those trees from which you were born and the trees upon which your breath left the earth,
leaving us speechless and yes
thankful as well.

A wild Ride down an aisle

this weekend was a wild one- for the Lord Jesus.
I went to a men's conference with three thousand other men at Bloomfield, CT for an iron sharpens iron conference. One of the focuses was the rivalry between the Red Sox and the Yankees. Two pairs of tickets were being given away that afternoon.
Åt the end of the first session, I handed my ticket into the bucket for a drawing.
I went about the next few hours in a normal mode.

Then at 1:08 pm , the big buckets of entries were combined into one bucket and the name was drawn. The speaker announced into his microphone, "Scott Davis". I stood there amazed for a second and waved my hands and then had sixty seconds to make it to the front of the church.

Yet, I was in the upper balcony and when frozen, I did not quite have a get away plan made in case I won. I felt like one of the oscar winners shocked and out of breath for the moment. This was indeed one of those moments in time that get sung about.
Friends later said, some said, give it up and draw again when I did not make a quick appearance. But I am thankful for the grace allowed in the sixty=first second. I didn't deserve the extension, but it was granted.

I found one of the red-shirted ushers who helped guide me through this maze to the front of the church. I made my rocky-like approach down the aisle and ran past friends who were clapping and shouting my name in unison.

I grabbed the tickets. Thankful for this chance. When I got back to my seat, a little out of breath, i was glad.
My friend , Gary Davis, said, "I knew it would be you. Can I go too." I explained, "I only have two tickets. would love to but I can't take you. We both can't drive." Gary said to me, "You were suprised!!"

I told Gary, "Yes, I was, to say the least"
Mark took my picture of me holding the tickets in my hands smiling.

The next morning at church I was announced as the winner for the tickets after the slide show of the event.
I had plenty of friends high-fiving me for the win. It felt good.

But what will ultimately feel even better is when I walk through the pearly gates of heavens and find Jesus. And hear His welcoming and reassuring words , "Well Done good and faithful servant! Welcome home and enjoy your reward. For eternity . From the alpha to the omega.

Thanks Jesus for the lesson learned of knowing that the job is well done. Yet, I have a little more work to do. As is stated in Philipians 1:6, "He who began a good work in you will complete it until the day of Christ Jesus."
Remember even if not all is pearly in life, God is there in those small moments to surprise us with his grace, an undeserved favor at Christ's expense for our very benefit.

Keep in the game and run that race. And find the ushers in life to get you through the maze so you can run down the aisle to get that prize that Jesus is calling for you-that pair of box seats in heaven. To be seated next to Jesus for all of eternity with all of His saints through the years!!!!!!

trains breathing down the tracks

ON the way Home,
I heard the breath of the train,
its long legs churning back and forth.

Making huffs and puffs down the track.
Screeching out of the station.
Not seeing

but hearing its life leave the station.

Longing to reach out and be completely human
Overcoming the obstacles faced each and every day.
vetting through our conscience our beloved.
Enthusiastically reaching out to mankind and to God
Yearning to be made whole,
understood.
ringing one's words on our fingers
nursing our wounds in prayer.
intensely crying out to God
getting answers slowly from above.
hearing whispers of forgiveness from our lover.
believing it is the truth that we hear.
acting as if it is going to be all right.
Serving God and one another
Forgiving our friends as Jesus has forgiven us!!

Sacred partnering
something that I have done for quite a while
off and on.
Tim Daiey walked by the woods with Nona, his loyal white guide dog.
Her stiff white hairs gentle to the touch.
moving her head swiftly side to side.
being graceful as she guided Tim through the world
being his eyes and feet for the world.
Having known them for only a brief three years at Fairfield U.

Having explored worlds of history, sociology and religion together.
with his fingers finding the tape recorder buttons,
gently finding each one.
Listening to him sing songs to God while on campus for others to hear.
to hear him cheer and root for his St. Louis Cardinals.
To then have Tim be escorted to the side of Jesus in Heaven,
hearing it while waiting for a winter retreat.
being taken in his prime
yet an example of a sacred partner to teach and learn from.
Being one of two special blind men that I met and learned from at University.

The sacred partner of gaining a christian brother, Gary
watching him grow through two full decades and now onto a third.
to see Gary grow in the knowledge and grace of Jesus.
Lacking the keen intellect of a scholar but having the child=like heart of a follower of Christ.

Travel man having a thirst for travel through the world= to Hawaii, Nashville, Italy and Cancun.

Gary who hugs and calls and cares for his friends.
who reaches out and pats me on the arm and says, "I love you , brother."
being crowned through God's sense of humor,
coming from two distinct paths, yet united by the same last name.
Prompted from the loving benediction from Pastor Dave
being called into family and being affirmed by God's love brought up close.

My life is like that of the ocean.
It is beautiful,
deep
calm
peaceful
adventuresome
yet dangerous
yet full of mystery
who can fathom where its drops of froth will
travel
intersecting it on the water's edge through the motor boat.

Viewing it from atop a rock cliff
seeing it from the porch window
Hearing it from the water's edge.
Watching birds interact with it- coming close and being married to it.

Myself being married to it for thirty-two years.
Being the groom to this bride of beauty.
being loyal to it through the seasons.
keeping a keen eye to its beauty and ever changing faces.
yet the constancy of the view she provides
providing an affection for the soul for years to come-
of her having the perfect gown tailored well for her.
And for my tux- of having family be near as I
have been on my adventure with her through the years
constantly falling in love with her.
Forever walking the aisle with her.

My life is like an Ocean

My life is like the ocean of Maine. I go with the flow whenever a challenge is faced. i take on the challenges of the day and look forward to how they are going to make me a better person.

Waves of the ocean splash through the jagged rocks. Salt-laden spume flying everywhere. Sometimes I am unstable as the waves crash with great force but then at times am fairly stable after all.

Storing up prayers in Heaven.

Lord, Help me to store up some prayers to be forwarded to heaven. I read once of a man who went to heaven and was given a tour of his portion of the warehouse. On the tour, Jesus showed him of how he did not have stuff stored in heaven. I need to realize that I need to send prayers each day to God and they may be stored in His warehouse up there. It would be great to open up : time capsules" with some of the days of my life and see how my prayers and God and His angels and people have affected the history of mankind. Of me, this humble speck on earth, whom God intends to do great things through can impact others.

I look forward to the day when one of God's angels moves hi-lo truck to the warehouse bin and pulls down from a pallet the crate of scott's prayers and how they have changed the world when down on earth. I hope that bin is not empty or is not filled with regrets for not spending time with Jesus or His people.

These prayers remind me of the time I have been in Maine gift shops that sell the Maine Air in a bottle. Never bought that product, but once it gets opened the air is gone. That $2 value is lost once the cap gets opened. Yet when our prayer time capsules are opened they will bless others in heaven and ourselves as saints when we get there.

Lord, let me have the time and opportunity to share with others how new life in you is going and to have a full aisle showing off how great you are in my life. Since the theme of our church this year is God's people bring God Joy!!!!

Smile for Jesus. And a happy valentines day to you, Lord and to those who are reading this also!!!!

What were ya thinking God???

Hello God. What were you thinking when you made man. He has messed up a little since you made him. How did you actually make Jesus. That is what I want to know. I have a pretty good idea of how you made me me. A few details are a bit of a mystery though.
But how you crafted Jesus, that has been a mystery I have been pondering on my own and tossing around with my friends. If you have the answer, pop on into the facebook conversations.
Yet, you'd have to request a friend confirmation to do that. So, I will trust you to speak to me somehow to illuminate my mind. But I thank you God for the mystery. As facebook and apples must be a mystery to you.

Ever use a computer God?????

The joy of life

Life begins at the marathon
on an unroped course
releasing a flood of swimming sperm
zooming towards the throne room of the egg.
From the union of the exhausted sperm and egg, a new cell forms.
As a result of this special communion.


Bringing within it a combination of cells-each with blood circulating from within.
Being built from an architect
of which some say is a million miles away and some say as I do is
only as close as one's fingerprint.
At the heart of this new creation is a bundle of love. Being built through the generations.

In this architecture is the DNA, the jungle gym for our genes.

At the furnace of this new creation is the weaving together of the heart , full of red blood cells, that course through the arteries.

The heart bringing life and love to the hands and the feet. Feet that will dance and hands that will clap for joy. Feet and hands that will carry wounded men full of blood and those that will hold and cherish the newborn babe that will change the world.

All the while this gift is being weaved through the womb and the secret garden of the mother.
The umbilical cord tied to the mom. Swaying through the lush forest. Of sounds swooshing past the fetus's ears.

Just as the surf slurps through the scrumptious seaweed,
splashing up over the rocks.
Creating a magnificent spray of spume to the sky,
nature's form of worship to God. In its creation of the rainbow of blue and green over striated rocks.

That communion of the dad gathered at the foot of mother. Family and friends gathered next door.
Waiting for Word of the silent and joyous gathering of birth,
nine months in the making.

Oh how life is sacred and how partnering of souls brings forth life-
to start anew and to renew and celebrate the course of life throughout the generations.

Getting ready to jump for joy in the jungle gym of life.

This heart beats its drum
gently sending ripples of oxygen to a network of capillaries reaching the farthest points from the heart.

Going to the Curb

For it is Christ that is within us, the Hope of Glory.
For God is that Hope and for within you are these treasures in jars of Clay. Some for noble and some for ignoble purposes. Remember in life that we serve challenging people and challenging circumstances.
We offer the world the Word of Life!!!
In our lives, we need to focus on the new creation that we are becoming!!!!

AT times in our struggles to live life to its fullest, we may feel that we are not offering all of the world what it needs. Or sometimes, we may feel that we are not fully becoming what we need to become. A lot of times, we get limited in our lives with our past sins and hurts. Plenty of stuff that we want to get rid of collection day.

For we all have garbage that we want to dump at the curb and bring new garbage cans home. For that is what confession is.
When we empty our heavy hearts to God, Jesus takes our cans and empties them. Yet, He does not leave us empty ones. But He shines them up on the inside and fills them up with His grace and goodness and gifts on the inside as well. To exchange the useless parts of ourselves with what is more useful.

So remember when you are at the curb of confession to let the beeping garbage truck pull to your curb and let The Collector of the Can remove the junk in our lives and refill our can, our holy Temple, with life-sustaining goodness.

Peace be to God.

Superbowl a calling!!!

It is that time of year with the superbowl on sunday. A past time for many of our friends and family. This time however, I was reminded by a friend's u-tube post of players singing of tomorrow. It showed how a second after the super bowl all the records are brought back to a tie of everyone at 0-0.

Soon the losing teams will invest in a new stock of players and teams will become poorer on their balance sheets. Yet, they will be rich with hope that they may have a winning record and a chance to carry a Vince Lombardi Trophy high over their heads.

When I reflect back to the cross and Good Friday, the disciples and Mary were frightened for they believed that Jesus left them. But as Scriptures writers have written, "Do not be afraid", it is important to remember what followed on the heels of Good Friday. God experienced the time when He visited Hell and took on our punishment that we deserved.

What followed a few days later was a broken tomb and empty grave clothes. With a risen Saviour. To savor that moment in time. To be a witness at that moment of time in human history!!!

The apostle John was , and he wrote about his chronicles in the Gospel of John and his three letters as well.

Yet, we will also carry a trophy in the form of crowns that we will all lay down at Jesus' feet when we approach Him in heaven after our resurrection and receipt of our new bodies.

Thank you Lord for your Vince Lombardi Crowns you have given to us in your son.

So thanks again Jesus for that new season of Hope that you offer. And a productive off=season that will produce some winning teams after a few hard practices, scrimmages, and games.

The video is on youtube and is listed under "Players sing Tomorrow"

Off to Never Never land.

Finally, I gained a little real estate today!!! Some of that precious commodity that has been hard to acquire. I finally tossed some old papers of which my clues to the treasure hunt were very vague. I now have white space in front of me. I don't have to sit on a pile or rest my arms on one.

Still have a little ways to go in front of me. But I tackled one small area and felt good at that.

Also, I took on a little leadership this week in bringing to my manager's attention if we would be having a superbowl party so I could bring some chips. In a quick order of an hour, we had the party confirmed and email and posters were created. It felt good to be able to pick up the Target Chips and bring them in and have them opened up first while others were left unopened.

Small steps but still valuable ones in the areas of communication and organization that are sorely lacking on my reviews. And I look forward to future attempts to improve in these areas so I am moved out of the basement in those spots and different phrases and concepts can be introduced to review in Mid november or earlier , God willing.

Peace to the world as President Obama tackles the messes that lay around the world that others have left behind. If only, they just followed what I discovered this week. Tackle it one piece at a time, especially with new management running the ship.

And change is never easy especially after learning that my small gravy of the half=hour I enjoyed in overtime is being removed along with the overtime in our office, but if it helps make us more productive , I can live with that change as well.

And we will be getting phone system hooked up online in a week or so. More modern phones and a step further along in the 21st century!!!

I see myself as Pharoah

Many times I have read through Exodus 9 and never saw myself as the protagonist, Pharoah, as I have today. For God shows many miracles to Pharoah yet he never changed his mind of God and he hardened his heart. Ten plagues affected Egypt and the surrounding cities; yet, Pharoah did not budge an inch towards God.

It has been that way quite a bit for me lately. I am not as bad as he is portrayed to be in the scriptures. I go to church several events a week, I sing a few songs, say a few snippet prayers throughout the day and find ways to encourage others. Yet, I often feel like the timid heart that is warned in 1 Thes 5;12-15.

Lord, help me not to be like Pharoah. Soften my heart so that I may be moist and willing to receive your word so I can have blossoms of beauty and not twigs of lust, bitterness, anger, or self-pity. Let my vine be so attractive that people ask, "Why is the grove so beautiful?"

May the Peace of Jesus rest upon you and me.

Slates to walk on and windows to walk through

Today is an historic day with our new President. I am glad that this day has come. A thought came to my mind of when I was a young boy and I walked along the curved front slates that went from the top of the driveway onto our front porch. Those slate tiles danced as I walked along them as they hugged the ground lightly. The edges of the blue and grey slates had a discoloration to them.
Our red front door had a window at the top of it. Not much of a window to walk through though.
But with today's world, we do have a yellow brick type road that Obama's family has traveled along with the help of many people along the way. There is no magical wizard that is going to save our nation. Only the Lord can as my friend Jenn pointed out in her blog today.

But it is good to see the progress that our country is trying to make. Even if our slate paths are a little faded and a little bouncy. For we know that there are windows that have been smashed and entered through by this election of our first negro president in a house built by slaves. but it has been nurtured and protected through the many prayers of previous presidents and the protection by the soldiers on Flight 93 on 9-11-01 that preserved our cultural landscape for almost 2 million to enjoy in person and for billions around the globe.

So Godspeed to your duties Barack Obama!!!!

The intellectual lingerie

Walking with Jesus is not an easy task. When looking at the documentary, Pope John Paul II who thirsted to overcome an abyss of evil with an abyss of love, Back then as in the times of the Jesus, everyone was on the front lines. Fighting for their lives.



And some wanted to desperately hold onto their tradition. As was the case with the Pharisees who did not want to lose control over what they would give up when Jesus's power was being transmitted to His newly formed disciples.

Being disciples is a form of marriage. It is the union of God and the Church. We as believers are the bride of Christ. He is the Groom who is awaiting our arrival home to Him.
In this long journey of life, we share our souls and are united with Him in our hearts and minds as well. When we put on the full armor of God and put on the qualities of compassion and love, we are being intimate and united with Him and with each other. Through the intellectual lingerie so to speak.
Something that may never have been thought of before, but worth considering.

We are all going to face the day of God's judgement. And when I was chatting with a missionary friend of mine, he said he was somewhat glad to be home. As we quipped back and forth, our mutual humor came up with this saying,
"We enter into a 4H club of sorts. That is when we are happy and hoarse, coming home through a horse-drawn hearse.
In the book of Revelation, there are references to winged creatures, and I can imagine being driven up to heaven in one of them and being resurrected before Jesus.

When we will appear in heaven, we may have the vestige of our memories and the dorsal fins of our past. Yet, what we will have taken on is that immortality that swallowed up death in its victory. It will be the removal of our earthly glasses and putting on the eternal glasses that God had prescribed for us in the beginning, but we were robbed of our sight from the slithering enemy.

Yet, I thank you God for surrounding us with beauty every day so that we know you are alive in the world for us.

So I thank you in advance for inducting me into that 4H club that Jay and I bantered over the net. And may God bless the reader in his or her walk. That it will be stimulating to the souls-both in the here and the now.

The road.

Growing up as a teenager, I met you and fell in love with you.
You were hard to travel along as your mounds of grey were not always as attractive to walk along compared to the paved road along the shore.
yet, this road had a special quality to it. With its sharp-edged curves and its delicate plants growing out from its earth.
Tires traveled over this road as they meandered over it, crushing the pebbles underneath. And dust was seen flying from below as the dry air spew out its remnants.

This country road announced Pratt's Island and my feet trounced its paths whenever I traveled on one of its forks to the four main destinations that led me into travels of paradise.

One of the forks led me to the South Beach where we first spent our summers. It was along this road that I got the introduction to Maine as a teenager. It was a long road on Pratt's Island totalling about 1/2 mile. I spent time down in the car not knowing if it would be a place we would stay at. My parents were with the realtor checking out a cottage for rent. I remember sitting by the ocean with the big piece of driftwood in front of our Chevy Impala or Citation. And looking out at the shore listening to the roar of the water. Not knowing the adventure at the time or what the Maine adventure would be all about.

When we got there and spent the first summer at the Weber Cottage, mom and I took several walks along the road and I spent time at the South Beach walking along it and seeing the treasures that the tide left behind.

The Island had another fork that took me down to the town dock where we left for many a boat trip and brings back memories of when I went rowing alone and times when we as a family took boat trips along the shore. And at this dock, we had the Pratt's Island General Store with its bowling alley on the side. Out front there were some red gas tanks and the door to the store squeaked whenever it was opened. It was there that my mom and I walked to get some ice cream to eat outside or in the general store. The local yacht club was there also . We saw many a journey of kids learning to sail from our front porch who came from that Southport Yacht Club.

One of the forks was precious in that it led to the location where we spent the following six summers at the Cottage. This road was filled with pine needles on it. And the road was dark with the tall evergreen trees towering over it. Yet, these needles died off of the tree.

A final fork is the fork that led to the road along Cozy Harbor which passed by several artist houses and lobster shacks.
I miss these roads that I walked along. A time when life was much simpler.

But now, the golden silence of that time is gone. And with it came progress of bigger McMansion houses and more people. The calm invitation to Maine is gone for us now that life is more settled now. But pausing in front of a road or just thinking about the forks I traveled brings back good memories of appetites shared and whetted for more adventures back to the state I call my second home.

Rowing with one oarlock

As a teenager, I took several adventures while on Pratt's Island. One stands out.

On a sunny afternoon after lunch, I went down to the dock and walked down the ramp to the floating dock. I climbed into the swaying rented rowboat and set out from shore. I began to row around Cozy Harbor and as I moved the oars which were heavy as they plied the deep blue waters, I saw the houses from the shore pass by and the seagulls flying overhead me. I leaned back on the bench in the rowboat and pushed with all of my might. It was difficult using the two oars as the boat made little bits of progress.

I weaved in between some big white glistening sailboats that were moored off the docks of several of the cottages. As I approached underneath one of these boats with a big flying bridge, I heard the metal oarlock begin to wince in pain and creak slowly and then heard a giant, SNAP, as it fell onto the boat floor.

I was only twenty feet from shore in the middle of Cozy Harbor. Surrounded by the tall boats in all directions. I looked up at the bright sun of the afternoon with the blue skies and lightly puffed clouds. I moved around in circles as I put my oars in and out of the waters. Hearing the oars make their swishing sound and hearing the water drip off the end of the oars. I did not hear the sound of anyone that afternoon. I was out in the middle of "nowhere"

I knew I had to make it in by dark so my parents would not be worried about me. As I circled around the shore going in endless circles trying to make my destination secure , I felt insecure and yet took this as an adventure.
In my life, when I have faced pickles, I move about taking steps, even though they seem insignificant at the time. Knowing that eventually I am going to get home.

I did not know when that afternoon, I would approach the dock. I kept rowing for what seemed like hours, trying to make my destination. I did eventually.

What came out of it was a story that I can tell my friends and family of when I was a teenager on an island in Maine and how I always have an extra set of oars to lend to those setting out from shore.

Lesson learned is you never know when an extra set of oars or an oarlock may be needed in our journeys of life!!!

Stone Crossings: 2 Christmas Coal • shame

Stone Crossings: 2 Christmas Coal • shame

This is the site of a very gifted writer who knows how to parse the english language and paint it with emotion.