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Where was God when disaster struck?

God was with the baby who survived
because her window
was the only one in the house
that did not implode.

God was there to comfort
the woman who lost everything
she owned, and most
of her family.

God was with the family
who stuck together
during the tragedy
and survived – together.

God was with the family members
who were separated
before the disaster,
but found each other safe.

God was with the people
who – despite injury and loss –
helped others who could not
assist themselves.

God was there with the families
of the victims
helping them to deal with
the question of why?

God was there with the family
of those who may have caused
the disaster and who are
struggling to understand.

God was there with grace
to pour upon those affected
and help them to carry on
despite unexpected change.

God was there.

Chocolate Chips
Ritz Crackers
Girl Scout cookies
ice cream sundaes
pizza, pretzels,
caramel squares.

Things that we liked
when we were growing up
that we still like now,
but – somehow –
they just aren’t exactly
the same.

Questions Asked – Poem

Questions asked
may not be answered
when the purpose of the question
is misunderstood.

Questions asked
may not be answered
when the speaker speaks
without thinking.

Questions asked
may not be answered
when the question is not
really a question at all.

Questions asked
may not be answered.

Questions asked.

Athletes are told
that when they play
they should “stay within themselves.”

May I ask,
because I’d like to know
how do you “stay without yourself”?

When someone becomes known
after doing something for years,
they have been “under the radar.”

Now that they
are shown on the news
are they “over the radar”?

Just asking.

In Flight – Poem

Wings in flight,
imminent darkness
if the sandman
does not fail.

Troubles left on ground
will return upon landing
but are temporarily
in cloud limbo
(no, not that cloud).

Turbulence temporarily tosses me
around the bathroom
while the sign flashes
“Return to cabin.”
(I’m trying, I’m trying!)

Constant turbulence
makes the kidneys
and the nerves jumpy,
but the landing is uneventful.

Love thy neighbor as thyself
is not only one
of the Ten Commandments,
it is actually a good idea
-generally-
I am glad God thought of it,
Because I am afraid
we would not have
-on our own-
Thanks be to God.

Poem

Spending the day
in a son’s apartment
waiting for repairmen.
Bringing questions
with no answers;
does it really matter?
Probably not – ultimately,
but somehow it doesn’t feel right.
Good night.

Clouds 1When I was growing up, my grandmother on my mother’s side – Grandma Kelley – lived in the other side of a duplex from my aunt, uncle, and cousins in Adele, Iowa. The large screen porch led to separate entrances for each side. But when you went up the stairs in one side, you could walk all the way down the hall and then down the stairs to the other side of the duplex. I don’t remember if there was a bedroom on the first floor of either side, but if there was, there was only one and it belonged to my grandmother, and my aunt and uncle, respectively.

My brother and I slept upstairs. On one occasion, I was sleeping by myself. I don’t know why. We usually slept together at relatives’ houses. I think I was ill, but I wouldn’t swear to it. I was sleeping on one of the old, raised beds, the kind you had to climb into – particularly if you were under the age of twelve.

There were vents in the floor upstairs – or the ceiling downstairs, whichever way you look at it. I assume it was a way to keep the house warm in the winter – letting heat rise to the rooms upstairs. You could see down into the lower floor through the vents. You could also hear everything that was said over a whisper. Which could be embarrassing, but it also kept me from making several unwanted entrances into family rooms.

I remember having a hard time going to sleep with the voices coming up through the floor vent. It was hard trying to go to sleep and still trying to hear what the voices were saying. They sounded as if those talking were in the bottom of a shallow cavern. A head cold or flu would have increased the effect (I don’t remember having anything worse than that away from home).

I have no idea exactly what I was dreaming about. But I do remember the voices guiding the dream on some level. At some point I imagined stepping off of the bed and dropping through the floor. I kept falling, with clouds below me and no earth in sight. I remember actually having a falling sensation.

While I was falling I was frightened, but it never occurred to me that I would hit anything – much less hit it hard enough to die. I was sure that God would save me. As young as I was, I had faith in a loving and just God. I didn’t have all the baggage I have now. Baggage that makes me question something when I should just take it on faith.

I finally woke up, of course. But what one would consider the innocent dream of a naive child was actually an implicit assumption based on unquestioning faith. We all have had a similar type of experience when we were younger. A time when (real or in a dream) we mentally and physically had no control and had to depend on God.

I’ve had numerous experiences since that night – both in life and in dreams – in which I felt out of control. Unfortunately, I wasn’t always as successful as that night in trusting God to help. And I know I am not alone. We need to get some of that naivete back. True, we cannot undo experience and knowledge. But we can return to a childlike wonderment of God. Trusting him to protect us, even in our dreams. He does keep amazing us if we’re paying attention.

What was one of your most memorable faith experiences or “God moments?”

Peace be with you.

Zion UMC 1When I take trips – or even when I am just driving around – I like to take pictures of churches. All kinds and types of churches, but small churches in particular. Churches that have been around for many years. Some are worn and broken down, but show signs of tender loving care and have the appearance of an active church – albeit with a tiny congregation. Other churches have not held services for several years, but still show signs of upkeep by faithful congregants or their descendants. The church buildings resemble souls on the side of the road.

Churches with a past – not the negative sort of past that the phrase ordinarily implies – but a glorious past of vibrant congregations, spiritual worship services, and dinners on the grounds. The church buildings, along with the surrounding property, echo the vocal strains of gospel music, prayers, and praise. I often wonder if the Holy Spirit doesn’t return occasionally to the former churches to bless them one more time for their meritorious service to the glory of the Lord. Roadside reminders of years of faith and praise.                   Preston Road Church

I am rarely traveling on Sunday in order to attend our church. I take pictures and write articles for the newspaper, website, and archives. But one of these weekends when I’m on the road, I’d like to stay over and revisit the churches I’ve seen. Mainly to see if they still have services. I would like to get pictures of the small congregations that have served throughout the years and still faithfully attend.

I’m afraid, however, I would find that they would be closed for good. My next question would be if someone was still tending to the building. Or if it had been left to nature and future real estate developers. Which is why I take pictures of those churches. In some small way, I want to preserve the memory of the congregations and churches that helped develop the society in which we currently live.

But I will not only post pictures of churches with a past and possibly no future. I will also post – in order to celebrate – pictures of ministries that represent the church in the world. Or simply unique churches.

Peace be with you.

[Note: Follow the links for part one and part two.]

“Everyone be quiet and stay calm and no one will get hurt,” the gunman commanded. “The shot was an accident. No sudden noises.”

Antonio knew that if the police were not outside by now, they would be soon. He also knew the gunman was becoming more nervous by the minute and he did not want to get caught in the middle, which was now an increasingly likely situation.

“The police are going to be here soon, if they aren’t here now. I’d like to help you if I can,” Antonio said in the most calming voice he could muster with his nerves on overdrive.

“Why would you do that?

“Because I’m a preacher and it’s my job to help people with their problems.”

“So how can you help?”

“I have a cell phone with the number of the sheriff and he will listen to me.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I helped his family out. Like I said, it’s what I do.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m a preacher, for God’s sake! I don’t have an ulterior motive.”

“A what?”

“A reason for lying to you. Just let me call him. If you don’t like what I say you can shoot me. And I wouldn’t give you a reason to do that. But I need to know why you’re doing this. Are you here to rob them?”

“I’m not here to rob the place. I’m not sure how things got this far. Make the call.”

Antonio could sense desperation in the man’s voice. He hadn’t always been a preacher and he knew the difference between an evil man and a desperate one. He pulled out his phone and called Sheriff Martinez.

“Hello, Antonio. I’m a little occupied at the moment.”

“No more than I, Oscar. I’m in the restaurant with the gunman’s arm around my chest.” He felt the gunman relax his hold a bit.

“Was anyone hurt by the shot?”

“No, someone dropped something in the kitchen which surprised him and he reacted. The bullet went into the counter after going through a chair.”

“What does he want?”

“That’s what we’re trying to ascertain. If you’ll let us get to the chapel, we’ll try to resolve the situation without involving the people in here. We’ll be coming out the main door.”

“You got a line on this nimrod?”

“So far anyway. But remember, he’s one of God’s people.”

“But not one of the chosen, Antonio. Call me when you’re in the chapel.”

“First chance I get.” Antonio hung up the phone and returned it to his pocket.

“What’s the chapel?” the gunman said in his ear, tightening the grip on his chest.

“The semitrailer in the parking lot. I’m surprised you missed it.”

“I wasn’t looking for a chapel.” He pushed Antonio toward the door between the two rooms.

“Point taken,” Antonio said as he reached out with his hand and unlocked the door.

The gunman put the pistol in his pocket and stayed behind Antonio. Antonio nodded slightly to Fred as they passed the cash register. The two men walked out the front door of the truck stop and headed for the trailer. Police cars were parked in front of the restaurant. A group of officers gathered behind the cars watching the two walk toward the chapel. .

As the two men walked up the steps of the trailer, Antonio glanced toward the restaurant. A couple of deputies were coming out of the door looking toward the chapel. The gunman,  followed Antonio into the chapel and locked the door behind him. Antonio walked over to his desk, swiveled the chair around, and sat down facing the gunman.

“So now that we’re here alone, what do I call you?” Antonio asked him.

The gunman held the gun on Antonio and looked confused. He was trying to get straight in his head the significant turn his original, albeit on-the-fly, plan had taken.

“I’m Jason,” he said finally.

“Well, Jason, I’m Antonio. Brother Antonio. Sheriff Martinez is expecting me to call him shortly and have the answers to some questions. Why don’t you tell me your story and let’s figure out how to wrap this thing up, whatever it is. What brought you to the truck stop with a gun?”

“A flat tire, an escapee from jail, a woman, two barbeque sandwiches, and a few bad choices.”