Get Off the River

I am on the river

Moving downstream

I quickly pass the shores

Unaware of what is there

It’s hard to get off the river

But when I find a good spot

I paddle over and step off

I sit quietly and watch

The river goes on without me

And I am left with my thoughts

I pick up a pen and draw

That which I missed before

I feel the life around me

I listen to the river

And the wind in the trees

I am content and at peace

Written on 7/21/2017

A New Campground

We escaped the heat of Boise yesterday.  Right now I am sitting on the bank of the Salmon River.  Our favorite campground is closed so we found a campsite at the Casino Creek campground.  We were lucky to get this spot.  We were delayed on the highway coming up because of a head-on collision.  All of the campgrounds we checked out were already full—they are very popular.  We chose campsite #1 at Casino Creek.  Our nearest neighbor is not very close so the only noise is the sound of the river and, unfortunately, a steady stream of traffic on Highway 75 across the river from us.

There are so many things to appreciate.  Last night I gazed up at the myriad of stars twinkling in the clear dark sky.  It never ceases to amaze me.  This morning an osprey dived into the river and came out with a fish in its beak.  Sometime later we spotted a beautiful western tanager, bright orange and yellow, fluttering around our campsite.  At this moment I am enjoying the numerous bright yellow flowers on the potentilla bushes.  Closer to the river I spot one lone pink flower in a sea of yellow.  The river is so peaceful, I find I can tune out the noise of the cars.

What’s next today?  Time to find out!

Written on 7/20/2017

We Must Learn to Walk in the Dark

A few days ago I finished reading Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor.  I can see why it was on the New York Times Bestseller list.  Taylor did a lot of research for her book—from sitting in a cave in absolute darkness to rereading scriptures to see how often God shows up at night.  She writes about both literal darkness and metaphysical darkness.  “. . . I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so that there is really only one logical conclusion.  I need darkness as much as I need light.”

This book made me think.  How do I feel about darkness?  What do I fear?  I know that I had some fear as a child; there were always night lights for us.  I’m sure I was afraid of the monster that might jump out of the closet but my parents always made us feel safe and protected.  And now?  When I am out in the dark alone my biggest fear is people with bad intentions.  At home we have nightlights because we don’t want to bump into something.  At times I enjoy being outside at night.  When I’m camping I love to look at the stars and walk in the moonlight.  During the hot days we’ve been having I love to walk out into my yard in the cooler temperatures; my garden looks so different in the dark.  What darkness do I fear in my life?  That’s simple.  I fear losing someone I love.  I do not have much experience with death.

Of course, I cannot ignore the darkness most of us see in our country right now.  Nearly everything we cherish is now threatened.  Our fears are real.  Could I end up without healthcare?  Will someone I love be deported?  I fear the hate and violence that occur on a daily basis.  Will we end up in a nuclear war?  We feel helpless.  What can we do to stop this train wreck?  We have lost control.  Taylor says that we “do not easily relinquish our control over how dark or bright it is, either in our houses or in our souls.”

This seemed like the perfect time to pick up this book that I had sitting on my shelf.  I believe we need to learn to “walk in the dark” both individually and collectively.  How do we do this?

It is natural to be afraid of the dark.  However we should remember that God is always with us—it was God’s promise to his children.  It will do no good to stay home with our doors locked and our lights on.  We must venture out the front door of our homes, our churches, synagogues, mosques, and temples—out into the dark.  We can hold each other’s hands.

Yes, it can be dangerous out there.  We could get hurt.  However, we have each other for support.  As we spend more time in the dark, our eyes adjust.  We do not stumble as much.  We will learn to manage our fear of darkness, developing courage.

In her book, Taylor told an interesting story about a blind French resistance fighter who wrote “I had completely lost the sight of my eyes; I could not see the light of the world anymore.  Yet the light was still there.”  He went on to say “The source of light is not in the outer world.  We believe that it is only because of a common delusion.  The light dwells where life also dwells: within ourselves.”

For me this light he describes is the little spark of God we all carry within.  We may not be aware of it, but it is always there.  When it is dark, we need this light more than ever.  We can reflect this light, the love that is God, to all around us.  Let’s step out into the darkness together and change our world.  Let’s make our country a better place for everyone to live.