What Have I Been Doing?

Where have I been since my last posting? And what have I been doing?

Well, for one thing, I have been concentrating on a painting as time permitted. In fact, a total of 23 hours and 45 minutes of time, spread out over a number of days, with many intervening duties and pleasurable things occurring. I must say, however, it seems like many more hours went into this particular painting! But I do not usually spend more than an hour at a time in a painting session.

I have never before kept a record of the time spent doing a painting, and people are constantly asking how long did such and such a painting take to accomplish. So, I decided to "take the time" to keep a record. Perhaps a more appropriate question would be over what span of months or even a year has it taken to finish some I have done. The ones I have painted purely for my own pleasure usually take longer in this regard, because their execution usually gets interrupted several times for intervening works for someone else. This is true at this time as well. I had been working on a particular painting for about a year. This was one which was inspired by the death of a woman who gathered and ate some poison mushrooms by mistake. More about this at some future date.

As my landscapes go, the one I have just finished was one of the larger ones, being 24x36 inches. I don't mean to make it sound like it has been a drudgery, because it certainly has not. But toward the end of a painting, my enthusiasm has a tendency to flag a bit and I want to get it done, and start something fresh. For instance in this case, I am ready to begin another one already. It is also a commission, and is of a totally different subject and having an entirely different color scheme. This will be a seascape with a lighthouse. More about this later also.

Prayer Changes Things

Whoever said that prayer doesn't change things has never prayed and been aware of God's affirmative answer to their petition! God delights to answer the cries of our heart. When David cried out to the Lord in times of trouble and, as he says, "He heard me," the word in the Hebrew literally means "to shriek." And it carries the idea of calling out in danger or anguish!

This is just one example of the kinds of prayers to which God delights to respond when one of His children utters a supplication.

Moses says in Psalm 90 that He "saves our life from destruction." I dare say He has often done this even before I have had time to "cry out to Him". Praise His name, His eye is always upon us, and He cares for us in ways that we can never imagine. Nevertheless, He is thrilled when we call upon him in our desperation in troubling times. In such times, we are critically aware of our dependence upon Him.

Does Prayer Change Things?

The Scriptures never tell us, per se, that "prayer changes things".

However, there is the implication that one may deduce from the examples of holy biblical characters by the course of events and circumstances which certainly seemed to be affected by what they asked God to do. And therein lays the crux of the matter, does it not? It was not effected by the asking. Even the act of their asking Him was an action which was brought about at His own instigation. He had to tell His creatures to ask. And they did so by a conscious decision with the minds that He had given them and empowered them to use. And it was not in the power of their words, ever so artfully spoken, to their Lord God and Creator that affected the occurrence of the winning of a battle, or the stopping of time, or yet the raising of a dead child to life again, as examples. No, the power that effected and brought about these happenings was that of an all wise God and Creator of all things out of nothing.

God has never relinquished His Divine control or sustaining power over the universe which he brought into existence just because He introduced time into the realm of His eternal greatness and glory. No, it is not the prayers of men that change things, as the popular saying implies. It is the still all powerful God of the eternal ages Who is still in control Who changes things when it is His will to do so. It is true, however, that He delights to do so in answer to our prayers. And He encourages the redeemed to come boldly to His throne of grace.

And truly it is a constant act of grace on His part toward His ever undeserving creatures to act benevolently on their behalf, indeed, on our behalf!

Fall Again

Leaves incessantly are falling, slowly falling to the ground,
Falling quietly, softly landing, see them now as they abound.
Red and orange, yellow gold, and now and then a somber brown.
Verdant once the trees they parted now appear as nature's frown.

Such is Fall as we behold it at the seasons' changing guard

Wearing now its own bold colors laying mostly in the yard!

Who could stop it, who would dare take on a task so very hard?

Rather relish we the scene as though if Nature's fair reward.

Every year with expectation we await this grandest show,

Just like clockwork it will come, and just like clockwork it will go.

Breathless, we will drink it in, and all the while we surely know

Once magnificent the colors, soon may they be under snow.

October 2009

Valley of Death

"VALLEY OF DEATH"

On our way home from Tennessee recently we took a side trip off our "beaten path", so to speak,

and drove due north on US 52 from Rurual Retreat to the top of the range of mountains which were engulfed in a sea of multi-faceted fall colors. Every turn of the upward winding highway seemed to outdo the last vista and enthralled us with its beauty. Upon approaching the height of the top of the mountain, near where the road intersects with US 42, we observed a fire tower and as we drew closer we found a store at the base of the tower. There was an adjoining overlook which afforded a view over the whole valley below from which we had just ascended.

"Valley of Death," the historical marker proclaimed! How ironic, I thought, for such a beautiful place viewed from such a panoramic height. And if it were in the fall of the year, as when we were there, it is bound to have evoked at least a little dismay in the hearts of the Union soldiers who were sent here to destroy the salt mines and the railroad on which the southern armies, during the war between the states, so heavily relied. I suppose the lives of the eight men who were forfeited to the ravages of war in the ensuing battle was the reason this beautiful, and now serene, place has been designated "The Valley of Death," here in Wythe County, Virginia, all those many years ago.

From this distance in time, one gains a different perspective of a war which consisted of a people in a single nation between themselves. One can appreciate an evaluation of such a war as being anything but "civil." Ironically, there is no such thing as a "Civil War." And anyone who continues to harbor true and deep seated feelings of antipathy between a mass of people in one section of the same country against that of another mass of people of the same country, delineated by such terminology as "the North and the South," has their priorities crucially misplaced. It is one thing to joke about, but it is quite another to sincerely hold grudges over any number of years.

Mary Lee and the Large Tree at Sugarland in the Smokies

Pictures from Pigeon Forge, TN

What




Old Mill in Pigeon Forge

Old Mill Pottery Grill and Cafe'

Pigeon Forge and the Smokies

Our trip to Pidgeon Forge was highlighted by the good restaurants we tried. One of these, where we ate on two occasions, was the Old Mill Pottery Grill and Cafe'. which featured a beautifully designed outdoor garden. We ate there on the second occasion on a day warmed by a wonderful fall sun. We also enjoyed a trip into the outskirts of the Smoky Mountain National Park where we took a hike to a small water fall.

The Arduous Trail

Today, thanks to a generous anniversary gift from friends, Mary Lee and I drove to the Peaks of Otter in Bedford County in time to take advantage of a wonderful buffet lunch and overnight lodging. Our room afforded a view of the lake in the foreground and of Sharp Top mountain in the background. The leaves were just beginning to turn and in certain light the mountain glowed with an array of rather muted colors of oranges, reds, and yellows. Fall had arrived and the air was crisp with the freshness of the changing of the seasons. Today, the sun was shining brightly with very few clouds in the sky. The day was perfect for two lovers on a honeymoon-like occasion. We noted that the numbers of deer which we encountered were more bold that usual and we got some very goog pictures of them at close range. Their piercing brown eyes and unflinching gaze made us feel that we were the anomaly rather than the other way around.

After lunch and a change into more appropriate attire, we drove a short distance just north of the lodge where we were staying to the trail head leading to the Fallingwaters Cascades. This is a very beautiful and rather arduous trail that leads down the side of the mountain over many rocks and roots, ever descending for about 3/4 of a mile until one is alongside a rapidly falling creek that continues on down the mountainside. Finally we reached a point where the trail takes a sharp turn across a small foot bridge and over a glistening pool of water at the top of the falls. The trail becomes steeper at this point.

However, we did finally reached our destination at the foot of the largest cascade, which was somewhat smaller at this time of year because of the abating water supply from further up at the top of the mountain. This was quite a workout for the both of us, especially as we had to retrace our steps back up the trail to where we had begun our trek. However, the object of our hike was well worth the difficulties we encountered to obtain it.

God had richly blessed with another experience in the arena of the wonders of nature which His artful hand has created. And we wondered at his bountiful goodness to us.

"Oh that men would give thanks to the Lord for His goodness;

And for His wonderful works to the children of men."

PSALM 107:8

The Sounds of Things

To be a poet one has to be curious about many things. One of my greatest curiosities is about sounds. I have an innate fascination about an innumerable host of them which I make myself. What sound does a piece of wood, or a metal box, or a even a pumpkin, evoke when knocked upon with my middle knuckle. I perform this simple curious practice constantly. I love the sound of the ring produced when I flip the edge of a piece of crystal with my index fingernail. That is music to my ears!

Ever noticed the difference in the sounds store plate glass windows have when knocked upon? And then there are the sounds of nature, like the wind blowing through the leaves on trees, and the eternal roar of ocean waves crashing on the shore, or fog horns on a mist drenched night! And the eerie screeching of an owl unexpectedly penetrating the quietness of a summer evening. Not to mention the loud rumblings of thunder following the sizzling crackle of lightening.

I would love to have heard the sounds of a mighty rushing wind on the day of Pentecost. And how I

read with wonder in Ezekiel's prophecy about the voice of the God of Israel having the sound of many waters, and how His accompanying glory made the earth shine.(Ezekiel 43:2) The Psalmist says that "The Lord on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, than the mighty waves of the sea." (Ps. 94:4) When the Apostle John described the Lord Jesus Christ in Revelation 1:15, he said His voice was "as the sound of many waters." Wow, what must that have sounded like! John later heard a voice from Heaven, "like the voice of many waters, and like thunder. And I heard harpists playing their harps." (14:20) Finally, (19:6) he heard, "as it were, the voice of a great multitude, as the sound of many waters and as the sound of mighty thunderings, saying, 'Alleluia! For the Lord God Omnipotent reigns!' "

The poet's ear, the poet's eye, is always open to what ever there is to hear and see in God's creation, both "under the sun" and even perhaps in the spiritual realm. His heart is attuned to things that others never perceive. His is the task of making others aware of things they are not normally in the habit of observing.

The Poet's Heart

Does the poet dare to think

He is the only one

Who has ever seen the rising

Or the setting of the sun?

Thinks he that his eye's the only

One that's been set free

To behold and true decipher

Nature's imagery?

Yes, of course he is convinced,

And truly stands apart...

For many have the eyes to see

But few the poet's heart!

L'ENVOI

L'ENVOI
By Rudyard Kipling

When earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are twisted and dried,
When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died,
We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--lie down for an aeon or two,
Till the Master of All Good Workman shall set us to work anew!

And those that were good will be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair,
They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comet's hair,
They shall find real saints to draw from--Magdalene, Peter and Paul;
They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all!

And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame;
And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame;
But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
Shall draw the Thing as he sees it for the God of Things as They are!

Beautiful Day for a Walk in the Cemetery

This morning it was a gorgeous day! A perfect day to visit an antiquitous cemetery. And this was a planned affair as a precursor to the Hunt Family Reunion tomorrow. Anyone who wanted to get in on a little history of the family were invited to meet today at Dixie Caverns and follow the leader, Larry Hunt, sort of the self-appointed family historian. The group consisted mostly of cousins and their respective family members. And, as I said, it was a perfect day for it. Glorious sunshine, cool fall weather, and some beautiful orange and yellow leaves adorning many trees. The Hill Cemetery is located in a very secluded and out of the way location in Roanoke County. Unfortunately, not secluded enough to ward off visits from vandals, who have broken or chipped several of the old gravestones. My, my, what fun that must have been!

Larry rehearsed a lot of family history, interesting stories that most of us had never heard. He seems to have the proper propensity and tenacity to sniff out information in the most unusual and unsuspecting places. Now our minds are all in gear for the fun and food and fellowship of the family gathering tomorrow.

No, this is not what the sky looks like today! Today is overcast with a warning, by the weatherman, that there will be rain, sometime, maybe. Forecasting is not an exact science. Probably not a science at all. So it really boils down to the stark fact that it is not really forecasting at all. Webster describes it as "predicting; calculating of future conditions." Well, predicting becomes a tricky business, when left in the frail hands of mere humans. It is inherently an inprecise exercise, even if based upon the most dependable models of the past.

But I stray. I must be clear, I am not one of those who complains about the weather. I trust its precision to the wise hands and providence of the eternal God Who brought all things into existence and "upholds them by the word of His power." I love the glorious aspect that such a sky as is depicted above presents. But on the other hand, I accept the dull gray and unpredictable outcome as such a day as this, knowing that it is also a part of His care and provision for what this earth as well as its inhabitants need. Sunshine seems to enliven the spirit, while overcast skies appear to bring about the opposite result in most of us. The "preacher" wisely stated, "To everything there is a season, a time to every purpose under heaven." Ecclesiates 3:1

The best way, the most acceptable and , dare I say, pleasant way, to lose a friend is by death, rather than by coldness of heart. Who can bear the loss of a friend who just doesn't love you any more, and thus, can easily be satisfied with not seeing you and sharing your thoughts, or just enjoying the presence of your company. There is no sweet parting of true friends, that parting which terminates the relationship. "Friends come and friends go", we hear it said, but the coming is much more precious than the going. At least I have found it so, and I have many more friends who were than those who still are.
One of Solomon's proverbs states that "a friend loves at all times." In other words, true friendship is not seasonal, neither hot nor cold, and is not dependent upon certain circumstances. Even if circumstances do change, a real friendship may continue. Enough spatial distance may make even the most genuine friendship rather impractical, and even very difficult to maintain, but should not make it impossible. Of course, being friendly with any number of people is quite another thing from being a friend to ever so few. I would like to say finally, that I am writing this in memory of several dear friends whom I have lost by death.

"The only danger in Friendship is that it will end." --- Henry David Thoreau

New Adventures

I suppose I have always loved a good adventure, and have had an adventurous spirit by nature. It must be the newness or the freshness of it. And then there is the inherent challenge that lay at the heart of it. What lies ahead, around the bend. When I am off on a new trail which I have never trod, it's what is around that next turn in the path that spurs me on. And if someone started off with me, but whose interest waned before mine, it's when I can no longer hear their call behind me, bidding me to come back, that causes me to realize that there is something deeper in my breast, than in their's, that keeps urging me onward. It's this spirit that causes me to climb all the way to the top of an old lighthouse, no matter how many steps, or how arduous the task may be, or how many times I may have to pause to catch my breath.

And there is the burning desire to see the view from the top of a high hill, or a mountain. There is a sense that I might miss some grander gaze, some distant aspect from that elevated stance.

Well into the latter part of my life, I was challenged by a new adventure, one unlike many others which I had taken on. It was the learning to play a different musical instrument than I had become accustomed to playing, even if ever so inefficiently. This instrument and the playing of it, and the unusual intonations of it, had always fascinated me. My desire finally got the best of me, so I proceeded to borrow an old violin from a friend, just to see how it would feel, how it would sound, and just how challenging it would be in my hands. Having always played every other instrument I have tried to learn "by ear", I used this same metheod with this instrument. Lo and behold, a melody came out, and another, and then another. My goal from the beginning had been just to play for my own enjoyment. I have found that to become the reality of what occured. The richness of my enjoyment of playing this very complicated instrument has far surpassed the quality of my actual playing of it. And there are more bends in the path of this adventure which lay ahead for me to follow. I may not take those turns in the way or keep striving to reach greater heights, but I have truly and am still enjoying the musical scenery along the way.

JEFF'S PAINTING

When we moved into our new condo in November 1995, the man who lived across the hall came over to introduce himself. "Hi, I'm Jeff", he said in the friendliest tone one could imagine. He was a man who always had a twinkle of impishness in his eye. He had a genuine love for people and was always ready to praise those he knew and stood ready to lend a helping hand to everyone. We came to love him as a dearest friend and to enjoy spending time with him and his wife, Ann, even though he was fifteen years our senior. They were both such genuine Christians who loved the Lord. Jeff was what is commonly know as a lay person in a local church but he was a leader in service and evangelism and was very involved in the establishing and growth of many new church fellowships wherever he lived.

Jeff loved music, and had a rich baritone voice. We spent many hours in their condo across the hall talking about the Lord and everything else with much enthusiasm. Jeff bought an electric organ for Ann to play and for him to enjoy hearing her play. But when it came to Mary Lee and I, he most of all wanted to hear us play his organ, which was one of those that can produce many different sounds., organ, piano, jazz. etc. There were certain hymns which he would want me to play. Sometimes he would record on the organ so he could play them back later.

One day Jeff brought an antique picture of a country scene which his grandmother displayed in her home when he was a child which evoked many pleasant memories for him. But the picture was old and faded. He asked if he could commission me to do a painting of the picture for him. I agreed and subsequently showed it to him. He seemed overwhelmed and, to say the least, was quite pleased with the result. He hung the painting in his bedroom. Almost every time I would see him thereafter, Jeff would brag on the painting, saying it was the best one I had ever painted.

A couple years after I did the painting for Jeff, he contracted macular degeneration, and before long

he became legally blind and finally could not really see the painting with any real clarity. But this never deterred him from bragging about how beautiful the painting was. He continued to say it was the best one I had ever painted. Subsequently, Jeff and Ann moved out of our condominium, and then out of state to Maryland, and finally back to Salem . We visited them at every subsequent location where they resided. Jeff never failed to tell me how proud he was of his painting, assuring me that it was the best I had ever done.

In 2008, Jeff became very ill and was hospitalized. He requested to be taken home to die. The last time we visited Jeff, he was in and out of consciousness and more than likely did not know we were present with him. I held his hand and prayed with him and Ann and their two daughters. It was the last time we saw alive. The images I have of Jeff's painting will be a constant reminder of what a wonderful person he was and how great was our friendship with him and his dear wife. But even without the painting or images of it on my computer, we will never forget Jeff, his gentle ways, his humble spirit and his deep appreciation of the ones he knew and loved. As his obituary so aptly stated, he has gone "home to be with his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."

Jeff's Painting

Art is the visual expression of what the soul sees and feels. It is a personal response to what the artist experiences through the medium of his eyes, and does not necessarily represent the actual likeness of what is observed by them. It has been said with some degree of accuracy that if one wants to create a picture of the exact image of what one sees then he should simply use a camera. There is some truth in this statement. I formerly felt the thrust of this statement and grasped it with a sense of responsive agreement. However, one must be careful, when they are agreeing with the thought expressed in that statement, that they are not betraying the fact that they are unknowingly revealing a somewhat less than an artistic spirit. It may also reveal a remarkable lack of real appreciation of the originality which comes into play by the photographer, not to mention that of the artist who paints in the realistic style. No two photographers will see the subject of their shot at the same angle, nor take the picture in the same light, and so forth. And the artist, seeking to portray the same subject, even though very realistically, will not use the same color scheme as another, nor the exact amount of light, or place the same emphases on any aspect of his work as someone else would. Every person, be they photographer or artist, will express what and how they see an object in just such a way as they are governed by their own unique originality. In this inexplicable sense, every human being is an artist in some degree of meaning of the word.

A person can be enslaved by the reality of what his eye sees while not allowing his soul to feel the wonder and intricate beauty of what he is observing. "Beauty is only skin deep", and some people never see more of any thing than what is on the surface.

People are often heard to say, with absolute veracity, "I know what I like." And this is the prerogative of every indiviual. But the one who says this should be careful not to fall into the narrowness of thinking that expects others to like the same thing when it comes to an object of art. It is one thing to know what one likes, but it is quite another to expect everyone else to like the same things. How true this is in regard to life in general. We are prone to judge others simply on the basis of "surface" information about them, such as the way they dress, the color of their skin, or their nationality, or the beliefs they hold dear, or even by such things as the accent of their speech.

The true artist is an observer, by far above all else. He sees what most other people never see until it is, at least, pointed out to them by someone else. And this is another thing that a true artist is good at doing, causing others to look at something in a different way than they would normally see it, or by getting others to look at something which they have never "seen" before. In other words, things they have, indeed, seen, but which they have never, indeed, seen before. Of course this happens on a greater or less scale, depending upon the artist and what he was trying to accomplish and, on the other hand, by the one who is observing his work. Good art sets up a line of communication between the artist and the observer of his art work.

There seems to be a great deal of unwarranted concern these days that the inhabitants of the earth are going to run out of those things it needs to sustain themselves and that the changing boundaries of the deep seas are something to be feard like a plague! Wow, it seems to me that the alarmists we are constantly and increasingly hearing from are, if you will, the chicken littles of our day. They are so mistakenly alarmed that they are causing alarm in others to increase by leaps and bounds. Methinks the whole world is going mad, being dominated by fears which are overtaking their hearts, fears which we should be fearing themselves, rather than the supposed coming of the end of all things ahead of their time. True Christian believers, with a rock solid faith in their sovereign God and His clearly stated purposes, seem to be the only ones who have any stabililty and peace in their inner most being, most commonly referred to as our hearts. This sovereign One is He Who brought all things into existence out of nothing (Genesis1:1, in the Hebrew), and subsequently formed the earth out of a watery mass(Gen. 1:2) and then created the first man and woman and placed them over everything else with which He had furnished the earth(Gen, 1:28). He is the same One who set the boundaries of the seas, raised the mountains, and brought into existence the origins of the nations, and finally provided a way of redemption for His crowning creature, man, who had so terribly fallen short of His glory (Romans 3:23) Can He not be trusted, indeed, to control the whole universe, much less the speck of earth in it, or even less, the needs of His creatures upon the earth? After all, He has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power of love and of a sound mind" (2 Timothy 1:7)

"You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed of You, becasue he trusts in You." ISAIAH 26:3

Wow! what wonderful weather has descended upon us where I live. As the sun has come up each morning this week, the temperatures have been in the low fifties and ,with the absence of those miserable high humidity readings, it has been very, very cool for our early walks. So we have had to don long sleeves and, in Mary Lee's case, a hooded jacket. This is a blessing, especially when we head back up the long steep hill near the end of our walk, before the last stretch back to our condo. Along the way, I've noticed that some of the persimmons are beginning to fall to the ground as they have rippened to a soft pumpkin colored skin. However, I have refrained from eating any of them, though they are unusually sweet and delicious at this stage. If only I could find enough of them, I would like to try my hand at making a persimmon pie!

I even noticed this morning that some of the maple trees are already beginning to show a tinge of orange and yellow on the outer perimeter of the foliage. Squirrels continue to show up crossing the road in front of us with chestnuts in the clutches of their extremely sharp teeth, and there are evidences under the tree itself of cracked and discarded shells following snacks which they simply could not resist during their gathering and storing process. I have even seen the crows hopping around in the grass jumping mercilessly at unwary insects and worms. This seems rather strange for the bird which usually relishes the flesh of animals. Someone told us they had observed one crow trying to attack a baby rabbit. However, the rabbit's mother fearlessly launched a counter attack, and a very unusal battle ensued with fur and feathers flying everywhere.

These are just some of the evidences of what seem to be rather early signs of fall.

It is a great time to be alive and to be able to witness both what God is doing and what God allows.

"Why are you cast down, O my soul" And why are you disquieted within me? HOPE IN GOD; For I shall yet praise Him, the help of my countenance and my God."

Psalm 42: 11

Speaking of marriage and friendship, I just came across this church bulletin blooper which read, "Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days."

Sadly, this is all too true of many marriages. But not so with ours. Since early on in our courtship and continuing till the present day, Mary Lee and I have been the best of friends in the true sense of the word. We have always loved spending our time together and facing our problems together, and making our decisions together. We have a practice of never speaking an ill word about the other behind each other's backs to others. We have so much fun together and often laugh about how much we laugh together, not only about things that amuse us both, but also about silly mistakes that we make. We think so much alike thatwe often make the same remarks about things in tandum

We laugh at ourselves, and at each other, and find it to be one of the best of medicines. There is much healing found in a joyful spirit.

And we pray together, worship together, and serve the Lord and others together. Sure, we "get in each other's hair" sometimes. But we resolve our differences during the same day, and never go to bed angry at each other. We attempt to not take ourselves so seriously that we can learn from each others example and acquired wisdom.

Do I need to apologize for being so personal and talking so much about the friendship we enjoy. Then, I would have to apologize for the intense degree of our love for each other!

"There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother."

Proverbs 18:24

"I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine."

Song of Solomon 6:3

You

Ever so often God brings into existence a flower of exceptional beauty and fragrance. Everyone wants to be close enough to it to have their life enriched by its unique qualities.

But only one person is given the privilege of picking that flower and taking it to themselves as their very own precious possession; though that one, out of great appreciation for what they have been given, finds immense pleasure in sharing its loveliness with others.

You are just such a flower and I am the one to whom God allowed to take you as my very own, and my life has been so very deeply enhanced by the wonder of who you are!

(To Mary Lee on her 69th birthday)

As part of our celebration of our golden anniversary, Mary Lee and I set aside time for an overnight "honeymoon". This was just a time to get away by ourselves, and to creat more memories of this very special time in the adventure of our lives together. We drove north from Roanoke along old US route 11. We first stopped and had a simple lunch at the Riverside restaurant in Buchanan, a small quaint and old town situated on the James River in Botetourt County. Then we continued north to the juncture in the road which took us east through Buena Vista and up the winding road to the top of the mountain and onto the beautiful Blue Ridge Parkway. We traveled north for about twenty miles and then left the Parkway, descending down a very steep and winding road, passing through Raphine and Steeles Tavern and then back on to US 11. However, this time we drove south for several miles to just north of Lexington, VA, where we had made reservations for overnight lodging at Maple Hall. This is a bed and breakfast inn which was orginally a plantation house built in 1850 in which the livng area for the orginal family was on the two upper levels with the kitchen and servants quarters located on the ground level. We were assigned a room on the second floor which had a fireplace and was furnished with antique furniture. The bathroom was extremely small and was the only negative aspect of our stay. There were also several other beautiful old brick buildings on the property of two and three storied structure. The grounds themselves presented a very pleasant and gorgious setting.

After, refreshing ourselves and having a short nap, we drove into Lexington, just several miles away, for dinner at Cafe Michel. This is an upscale restaurant featuring French and American

cuisine. The restaurant was very tastefully furnished and the food and service were excellent, combining to make this a very enjoyable dining experience. "Michel", being the French spelling of a man's name, is the Chef and his wife is the hostess of this family owned business of many years. It was formerly located in Clifton Forge, VA, a town too small, and perhaps too remote to accomodate a restaurant of such obvious class. After dinner, we returned to Maple Hall where we were rather surprised to learned that we were the only guests for the evening. Imagine our further surprise to find out that the evening manager was departing at 9:00 PM, leaving us alone in the large old house of many rooms and secret places and passage ways. I jokingly asked her if there were any ghosts in the house to which she replied in a rather somber tone, "Not that I have encountered," adding, but then you have to believe in them to see them."

So we loocked ourselves in our room for the night, sleeping very well and comfortably. The next morning, three ladies came in to take care of the preparation of our breakfast, which consisted of a large extended continental breakfast as though a full house of guests were expected.

After we left Maple Hall in mid moring, we drove into Lexington to the historic district and browsed a few of the quaint little shops and a natural foods grocery, and had lunch at a cozy bistro. We enjoyed talking to the very friendly staff and telling them that we were still celebrating out Golden Wedding Anniversary.

Finally, we left Lexington and drove west on the most beautiful drive through the countryside and on to Goshen Pass. This road skirts the Maury River, which is one of the most rock filled riverbeds we had ever seen, not with pebbles but with very large rocks. And the river itself was practically dry at this time, in most places. This route also eventually led us into the little town of Goshen where we shopped at a Dollar Store, of all places, before heading home, thus concluding our travels of this little venture in celebration of our fiftieth anniversary.

I have been on a long journey, in fact, one of fifty years duration. This journey began on August 15, 1959, in Roanoke, VA, when I married my beloved companion and friend, Mary Lee. After a courtship of four years and nine days, as she loves to remind me and others, we were joined in holy matrimony at Cave Spring Baptist Church. God had led us together after she set her goals and I committed my life to the Lord for the mate of His choosing. She had written down upon a piece of paper what it was that she wanted in a husband. He must be "tall, dark, handsome, and a preacher," she had written. For my part, by the time I was a senior in high school, in what must have seemed like a rather ridiculous desperation of failing to find a permanent relationship on my own, I asked the Lord to take over. Therefore, through His providential leading, by that summer, we came face to face at a Youth for Christ Bible study. We had our first official date, soon thereafter, at the insistance of a friend of mine who was dating Mary Lee's best friend. On that "double-date" with the two of them, we attended a Youth for Christ ralley on a Saturday night. Since that time, we have been constant companions and the subjects of a beautiful love story. The quality of our God blessed relationship has continually deepened and strengthened over the past fifty-four years plus a number of added days at the time of this writing. Thus we celebrated our fiftieth Golden Wedding Anniversary on August 16, 2009, at the Mountain View Recreation Center in Roanoke. This was arranged and put together by our two daughters, Alethea Adkins and Chara Tolbert, who did a wonderful job of beautifying the place and bringing together a large number of our good friends and relatives. What a blessed and emotional time this whole experience has been with the stirring up a long string of wonderful and precious memories which have accumulated over many years, a lot which had become rather latent due to the ordinary busyness of our lives!

With much of my life on earth behind me, I am still on a pilgrimage toward the shining sea, the celestial city, the heavenly mansions, where my Lord is preparing a place for me, that place where I will eternally dwell in His wonderful presence. He wants Me to be where He is! As a stranger and a pilgrim on this earth, my affections are set on things above, where Christ is sitting at the right hand of the Father. I am dead, says He, and my life is hidden with Christ in God. Even in this world through which I am passing, the eternal God is my refuge. He Himself, as in all generations of believers, is my dwelling place and, He is my stronghold and my high tower. As the psalmist said, like a deer, my heart longs after Him. He is my Shepherd and thus I do not lack anything that I need, nothing that He wants me to have. Indeed, He has given me all things to enjoy. Freely He has given and freely have I received every good and perfect gift which is from above. Great is His faithfulness, and bountiful are His blessings to me. In fact, His mercies are new every morning. So,

as I travel on this adventurous journey through this world, enjoying this wonderful life in Him, seeking ever to be a good testimony to His saving grace and His sustaining power, I will endeavor herein to record my musings on the sites and my meditaions on the occurrences I observe and experience along the way. If others will come along with me, I hope they too will get caught up in the excitement and the wonder of what a life in Christ means and can be when lived to the fullest. To God be the glory, great things He is doing!