One Small Step, and a Trip Around the Moon

A few thoughts: One small Step, and a Trip Around the Moon.

I vaguely remember the first moon landing. I celebrated my seventh birthday that week. The grainy black, and white images still linger in my mind's eye as that first impression on a dusty surface gave a sudden sigh of relief that man had finally reached one step further than ever before into the cosmos. 

Last night, approaching another year older on this planet much wiser, and more experienced; faith gave me a gentle nudge to the ribs how far I have come on this journey of life. On certain warm summer nights I gaze up from a camp fire to see a sky filled with stars, and yes, when the time is right, a glowing pearl shaped moon. This sight gives me hope that no matter what, God gives us a bright night light to show the way through every plight, peril, and possibility. That each of us has the opportunity to step one foot further into relationship with another human being, and God himself. 

Each time I step into my bedroom at night, I am reminded of an earthly love, and celestial realm that reads "I love you to the moon and back." That promise alone tells me I make that same commitment every hour of every day to one person, and to a God who tells me to hold true to this promise to every person on earth; if only we all could. 

And so, on this bright Saturday morning, with a warm cup of coffee in hand, and a faithful friend at my feet, I find peace knowing  that each day comes with a choice: To love, or not to love, that is the ultimate question. If only we all could take that one small Step, and a Trip Around the moon! 

Amen, God Bless All!

D.A. Wittler 

 4/11/26

The Waning Hours

A few thoughts: On the waning hours of a traveled life.

We all begin with a sudden spark of life, like some great mystery of the beginnings of the universe.

We grow, we expand our knowledge of a world full of faces, beautiful spaces, people of all races, and cultures. We experience a range of situations, overcome obstacles, and address adversity in all its forms. We accumulate to varying degrees wealth, property, and faith in deeper realms of consciousness. In the process we either acknowledge or deny the presence or lack thereof a higher power. In the midst of our travels we witness what we believe to be miracles or incidence of mere coincidence. In there lies the root of our existence; are we children of a supreme entity, or are we simply alone, and struggling to find meaning in a cold ruthless world? The choice is every human beings purview; a direction if you will. And we must ask ourselves: "Am I the master of my destiny, or an island unto myself?" That my friends is what Shakespeare coined: "To be, or not to be." I take my leave of you to your own well worn travels, and  bid you adieu. Until we meet again...

Amen

Doors, Windows and Borders

A Few Thoughts: An unlocked door, or an open window? 

If I should leave my front door unlocked, is that an open invitation for anyone to walk in without knocking? If I find an open window of opportunity, do I have the  choice to enter or not? So, what's the difference?

An unlocked door requires a decision first whether to take action based on  unforeseen circumstances. An open window reveals what lies within. 

A border is first a door, but even if it is unlocked, one is expected to knock first, and wait to be invited in.  A window is not a border, it is the opportunity to experience what is on the other side. Sometimes all you have to do is put a leg up, and pull yourself through. It takes more effort than simply turning a knob, or pulling a handle, and walking in. With an open window the goal is in sight. With a closed door there is ambiguity. Barging in unannounced will get you through the doorway with surprised looks, and grimmacing faces. Peering in, and being seen first let's the other side know your intention of being let in or simply checking out the view from your side of the opening. Opportunities, like open windows don't happen every day, but they leave us with better chances of getting another view without harmful circumstances. Barging in limits our chances of ever coming back in again. Which would you choose?

Good Day Ya'll!

D. Witt 2/2426

A Rhapsody of Praise

A Few Thoughts: Sunday morning: A Rhapsody of Praise! (As always, a work in progress)

   A Rhapsody of Praise 

I may not be sitting 

Beneath the pulpit this morning 

But I got plenty of spirit 

Flowing through my veins

In a rhapsody of praise

Brings back memories

From out the gutter

Ghosts from my past

Sorrows and heartache

Once tamed the fire

Held captive my soul

But I found him again

My Savior my, King

From the deepest holler

To the highest mountain

I hear the screaming

My soul's desire

To be free of the pain

To be one with the Father

In the steps of his son

Bruised from battle

The world gives us pain

But we can rise again

Through his precious blood

Spilled not in vain

Song for the ages

I hear his angels proclaim

Sunday morning revival

Eases the strain 

Headed for Zion

On this glory train

Thus do I sing 

Come my Savior

Lend me your answers

To this unholy refrain

Cries from a sinner

To glorious revival

Come sit beside me

My fellow traveler

Out from darkness 

To life ever after.

Amen

D.A. Wittler 1/4/26

 

What I Leave You

What I Leave You

Here I am

Reminiscing 

More years behind 

Than there are ahead

What will I leave you

When I'm dead?

Footsteps swept away

Surf and sand

Or paths worn down 

Take you by the hand

Showing a way

To the promised land.

Northwest Ohio

Homegrown pain

Green grass growing

In a Spring rain

Bare feet stomping

Water

Down a storm drain.

What I Leave You

When I'm gone

Visions of happiness

Written in a song

If only the words

Could hold you 

Like a melody

All my own

Love will be my legacy

When you are all alone.

There you are

Manhood

My two sons

I remember

You growin’

In your mother's womb

Wonderin’

What life would be

With your eyes wide open

In a brand new world

That's what I Leave You

My sons

Memories and moments

In the sun.

Northwest Ohio

Homegrown pain

Green grass growing

In a Spring rain

Bare feet stomping

Water

Down a storm drain…

That's my dream

What I Leave You

When I'm gone.

D.A. Wittler

12/9/25

Box Full of Words

Box Full of Words

Cardboard cover

Signed with a sharpie

Box full of words

Nobody ever heard

Only in my head

The love

The loss

The memories 

 Lust for life

Captured there

In moments of clarity

My song

My story

Prayerfully crafted

Soulful melody

It comes around

So infrequently 

I wonder why

I can't see it

Only when I need it

Sits in a corner

Like that lonely child

I used to be

Innocent then

Innocence lost since

In a box full of words

My song

My story

Crafted recklessly 

Soulful melody

It comes around

So infrequently 

I wonder why

 I can't see it 

Only when I need it

Like a lonely child

Caught in a corner

Lost in a memory

Box full of words

To keep me company.

D.A. Wittler 

12/5/25

Poking Through The Past

Poking Through The Past

A Memoire 

By:

D.A. Wittler 

Chapter 1:

A Simpler Time

(From Camelot To The Moon)

I was born in 1962. A time barely considered part of the boomer generation and yet not quite full fledged generation X. I vaguely remember that little house on Otto street in Ottoville, Ohio where I was the newest little brother to a big sister Cindy, and two older brothers Steve and Keith. Images of sunlight through living room curtains, Lincoln logs on a carpeted floor, and fire crackers on the Fourth of July still echo in my mind. They seem like dreams today, but I know that shy little boy who loved to wear hats, and dress up in costume was destined to see man on the moon. 

         

The 1960's was a simpler time with Andy Griffith and I Love Lucy on a black and white television screen, and yet the Bay of Pigs, and Gulf of Tonkin ushered in a fire storm begun with a shot heard on a sunny November day in Dallas, Texas. And so the days of innocent prosperity born of blood spilled by a Greatest Generation gave way to war once again. Free love tainted by a silent misery delivered a new addiction defined by Timothy Leary as the “Tune in, turn on, and drop out” generation. It gave the reality of man on the moon a whole new meaning; getting high was no longer a trip taken by man and machine. 

As our growing family was about to bear the pangs of another little sister, we moved out of that little house on Otto street to the Bigelow house at 103 East Sixth. It was built on a dead end alley that served as a neighbor's driveway ending on a little hill along the once Miami and Erie canal. A one time waterway for German immigrants from cities like Cincinnati, and ports of call like New Orleans. Commerce flowed as well along the way into what was known to the natives as The Great Black Swamp. The only remaining evidence of the Shawnee and  Delaware are the hand hewn arrow heads, grinding stones and bones of those who inherited it from generations long passed into legend spoken around a campfire. Its ashes ground into a muddy clay used to fire bricks to build sanctuaries of Gothic design for Catholic priests to gather in the faithful.