Love Goes On

A Few Thoughts: A Garden Grows, and Life Goes On.

We have worked hard for our small slice of heaven. It may only be a backyard, but the peace, serenity, and view of the setting sun at dusk is stunning. We have little friends who play in the grass, and keep us company. They bring a smile to our faces, and warm our hearts on any given day. Gene Stratton Porter mat have had her million dollar window, but our deck with a view is priceless! Though we have seemingly walled ourselves off from the rest of the world, it is our happy place to share; to escape for a while. And while we wait for the rain to fill our barrels, we store up love in our hearts, and wonder what tomorrow brings. But all that really matters is today!

Watching green things grow, we prune, water, and tend to the anticipation of a harvest of healthy living; we catch a glimpse of a garden many centuries ago where man, and woman wondered in the glory of creation. And life goes on....

Amen

Witt

Tempus Fugit

 Tempus Fugit

A Few Thoughts: On the passage of time,  healing of old wounds, strengths of family, faith, and community.  

This young lady turned forty this past Christmas, and she still runs as smoothly as ever! "Granny" as she is considered a Grandmother clock says: "Tempus Fugit" (time flies) above the clock face. My Grandma Beatrice Stepleton purchased this clock in 1982, and inscribed it: "With Love to my family" below the face. 

I often reminisce of the days stopping by to visit grandma Bea. She took such delight in seeing her grandchildren, and having family over to celebrate holidays, birthdays etc.. I can still smell the aroma of fresh baked pies wafting in from the kitchen, and the apron tied neatly around her waist.

Time they say heals all wounds, and it does if we are willing to let bygones be bygones. The sheer power of forgiveness flows from the origins of our Christian faith, and it teaches us about compassion, mercy, and the unyielding power of love. But forgiveness is a choice like any other human endeavor. It takes time to rise like bread in the oven, and it is to be savored like that first slice slathered in butter. With Easter not long passed, it paves the way for life eternal with our Lord, and Savior Jesus Christ.  And so, let us be humbled enough to accept our failures, and to seek peace within ourselves, and amongst our neighbors. Let not time fly by without love leading the way!

Amen

God bless!

Witt

Reflections of A Life Lived

A Few Thoughts: A Present Reflection of a Life Lived; The Promises of Faith, and the Power of Patience. 

(A journaling experience)

Dear Journal,

Here I am again recording thoughts. I am rested; though my body aches, my heart is full, and faith is strong.

I contemplate mystery, honesty, forgiveness,....   and what it means to be present. The Chinese recognize 2022 as The Year of the Tiger, of which I am privy to. The stars consider me a lion. Whether it means anything or not I do not know, but I do not put my faith in stars, but in a God who put them there to light the heavens. They remind me not only of the vastness of space, but also of the limitless possibilities of faith.

I struggle with our relationship; God in heaven, as man, and true friend sitting beside me as I travel down this road of life. My childhood image of Him detracts from the infinite being reflected in all things, and places simultaneously. I see His son as man talking the talk, and walking the walk; inspiring apostles, intriguing learned men of his day, and being the ultimate sacrifice for all sinful souls. For this I am grateful, resilient, and determined to live as a whole person. I love more now than I ever thought possible. I am a creation in His own image, a son, brother, father, friend, and husband to a true, and soulful partner.

I have lived many lives it seems. Coming from humble beginnings, small town values, and a Boy Scout's code of honor. I was a soldier once, not like the heroes revered from history, present day, or the Veterans I have listened to over a cold bottle of brew. Sure, I had visions once of heroism in my head, but being a part of the team was always my broader vision of service. Victory is achieved when everyone contributes to the end game of a successful campaign. 

I was a reluctant leader once; afraid of not having the answers when others depended on me, or that I would fail to set the right example when others needed my expertise to get the job done. What I have found is that leadership us much like the Serenity Prayer, especially in its opening words:

 "God grant me Serenity do accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference."

And so I would add one more thing: Patience to allow others to see the potential in themselves. 

Amen, and God Bless!

D.A. Wittler 2/26/22

Sand or Solid Ground?

 A Few Thoughts: Sand or Solid Ground?

I must first apologize for being so quiet for so long. Funny that when life is going good, and you are about as happy as can be, how complacent your convictions become, or how lackadaisical the daily disciplines of life recede into neglect. My nature from those earliest days of youth has always been to blend in with the crowd, and stay hidden behind others. But what I learned over the years is that life will always throw you a few curves to see how much it takes to bring out the warrior in you; the fighter that emerges to claim a place out front where battles rage, and beliefs are challenged.

 The choice becomes evident when finally you've been shaken enough to step forward, and claim a place to be an example to follow rather than an empty promise to do better. And you ask yourself, "Is it sand or solid ground I choose? "Will my faith dissolve into the surf, or will I look out from solid ground like a beacon from a lighthouse?" "Will I serve, or will I settle to be served by the sympathy of others?" Well, you never know until you decide that a sword, and shield are far better than a leaking lifeboat. You can allow life to slowly drown you with sorrows, and excuses, or you can stand, and fight to make the world a better place. But as we know it is a daily challenge to choose between complacency and fortitude. What will you choose?

Amen, and God Bless All!

Stealing from Steven King

A Few Thoughts: Stealing from Steven King.

I have heard that writers are not bound by any set of rules saying they cannot steal from other writers. I think that is true as long as inspiration causes one to expound or enhance a story line in order to make it seem more real. I have not read the original story, but I have a pretty good sense of what the main character in this case was experiencing. This all came to light as I watched a film inspired by a short story written by Steven King titled:

 "Mr. Harrigan's Phone."

He had a seriousness, and a sadness drawn on his face like some bizaar graffiti. I did not know at the time that this would be the last time we would speak, but somehow deep inside I knew something was wrong. We all have that sense about the things we would rather not think or speak about. Perhaps the portable oxygen tank sitting beside his chair was the clue that I simply put out of my mind until I found him there clutching his cell phone like some last drastic ploy to hold on for a few more precious moments of life. In any case the old man was gone, and I had lost not only a friend, but an ally who kept me protected, and made me feel powerful in that dank dim space in which we shared a portion of ourselves hidden from the world. Our darkest secrets merged in that moment when they closed the casket containing his earthly remains, and a link only vengeance could explain. Yes, he had been a ruthless businessman in life, and now an avenging angel in death. God help me for making it so.

D.A. Wittler 

10/13/22

And They Lived Happily Ever after

A few thoughts: "And they lived happily ever after."

Many of us adults grew up with someone reading us a story; whether at bed time by a parent, grand parent, or in school. I remember Mrs. Kortokrax reading to our class Charlotte's Web in second grade I believe, and listening to Disney classics like Pinocchio on vynil LP records. My younger sisters, and I would follow along with the enclosed story book. Ah, what memories, especially at happy endings.

Well, some years later I remember hearing Paul Harvey on the radio telling us "the rest of the story." Usually about the humble beginnings of a well known person or celebrity. On Saturday mornings Casey Kasem would play Amercas Top Forty songs. He would always share a long distance dedication at some point during his broadcast. It was normally a true story about everday people; long lost, and found romance, overcoming adversity, or some other human interest story with a song associated with it. And yes, usually with a happy ending.

Today, as my years of experience have taught me is that there are always two sides to every story. We take the good, and bad as either a positive, negative or learning experience. We see the good guy, the bad guy, or the circumstances that lead to a happy, sad or moral teaching. Sometimes the moral part gets left out, and we are left wondering what the whole point was. Anyhow, the important thing to remember is that stories either teach us something; or give us a certain perspective on life. One thing leads to another, yet we must realize that any story can be viewed from different points by those who are a part of the story itself. One side may get the gold while the other is left impoverished. One may get the love of their life while the other is left alone. 

Either way, in life it is important to consider both sides of a story to truly appreciate the whole picture, and how every story allows for revisions. "Happily ever after" is not always the  point, sometimes there is a lesson, sometimes not, and sometimes we just have to wonder. 

Good day, and God bless!

Sounds of Mourning

Sounds of Mourning

Call it prayer

Or a longing

Beginning again

Saturday morning

Clocks tick

A pendulum sways

In rhythm 

Like my long lost granny's heart

Birds sing

A flag wrestles with a gentle breeze

Lavender blossoms

On newly awakened branches

My soul senses losses 

Of loved ones, friends, and strangers

Posted on Facebook pages

An empty chair rocks

Back, and forth 

Upon my front porch

Sleeping dogs breath silent

Upon a warm bed

Dreaming

My mind grasps for meaning

Amid chaos of man's doing

Of thundering cannons

Blaring

Cries on shattered streets

Of death, and a reckoning

While she sleeps

From a night of drinking

I see a mourning dove take flight

Through a window

I hear rumblings

Of a new day beginning

Out on a highway

Not far from my home

I long for moments like these

Sweet inspiration

While I mourn her passing

Oh these sounds of mourning

Haunt me like a storm.

D.A. Wittler 5/7/22