My dad traveled nearly the whole time I was growing up. He was an electrician and lineman. He’s 87 and tired, but still smiles and likes to be outside, when the weather is pretty.

When he used to travel for work, he climbed those big steel towers and poles with creosote too. I remember his lineman’s boots. Mostly I remember Friday nights, when he always came home. We were living on National Avenue in Montgomery, Alabama. That particular Friday night, Dad sat in a chair to the left of the dining room table and we unlaced his lineman’s boots for him. I get a lump in my throat when I think of it right now.

Today I found a poem by Susan Rich, in David Espey’s book “Writing the Journey: Essays, Stories, and Poems on Travel.” Ms. Rich, the book says, is a former Peace Corps volunteer in West Africa.

The book also says Ms. Rich worked as a human rights educator in Palestine and was a program coordinator for Amnesty International. (The book’s copyright is 2005).

Here’s part of Ms. Rich’s poem. (Her dad traveled too, and sometimes took her along). Ms. Rich’s poem is called “The Scent of Gasoline.”

“As a child I’d inhale deeply the scent of gasoline, open the back seat window and lift my chin to the wind.”

Then she writes from Gaza and Senegal and Mali and says:”I miss the road maps, key chains…the belief blossoming behind the words fill ‘er up.”

Dads travel and I don’t think they ever really forget us, no matter what they don’t (or can’t) say.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eO7zNZrn38k

Stefano, smoking. Picture by Giovanni Dall’Orto, August 2, 2007. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I can’t believe I’m still here, now it’s just me and God again, like it started out. People’s love grows cold. Jesus warned us about that, about the limited capacity of human love.

Today I was thinking about mercy’s light, about what color it is and how it smells. I think it’s the color of pearls, like cigarette smoke, and mercy is soft, like cigarette smoke. Sometimes it burns and chokes. But mercy is always soft and gentle, like rings of smoke and the way smoke is remote, and curls and drifts and then disappears into the atmosphere.

But maybe mercy is also like pale yellow roses, which I saw on the way over here today. They were beautiful pale yellow roses, sitting quietly.

(Picture by Giovanni Dall’ Orto, August 2, 2007).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TghnrrThUU

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Peonies. 1959 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Dear Daughter,

I don’t know how this is going to turn out. I haven’t read the news today. News can wait (and sometimes must).

Have you ever had one of those days that’s a hard day, but a sweet day as well? That’s the kind of day it was here.

I’ve been thinking a lot about you today, because your birthday‘s so soon. It’s one of those birthdays some women worry about. (But don’t worry! I’ve got you covered!)

I think about you and your brother a lot, especially around your birthdays. Remember Key West? I’m so sorry your eyes got sunburned! I wasn’t thinking! (Also, I didn’t expect the sun to be so bright and burning, out there on the water. I should have thought).

Then I remembered when you and your brother played in the living room and we got a picture, there on Ohio Avenue. (There’s so much more:)

So there’s not room here, to write everything down, but remember how I told you to always try to accept (it takes time) all our flaws and scars too, because that’s where God writes things down? That’s still true, and you are  so beautiful.

Today, at Cleveland State Community College, I was walking to different parts of the campus and there were peonies! So I stepped up and over the rocks where they had planted the peonies. They were in full-bloom, in full fragrance.

When I was in Chattanooga, earlier today, I saw a Krispy Kreme place and needed to ask directions (of course!) They have a new doughnut flavor called “Key lime“. Can you imagine?

I bought the Key lime glazed doughnut (with filling) and one regular glazed, to take with me.

After I finally got done with all the computer things (at the college) I bought a cup of coffee and put two little containers of half & half cream in the coffee. Then I put my other things in the car and walked back to a picnic table in a real grove of real trees, where the cool breeze was blowing. So I sat there and enjoyed the coffee and doughnuts and thought about you and had already almost cried. The Key lime made me think of you, because of Key West, when we visited there.

Then I looked up and in the picnic area, which smelled like fresh earth and cedar, everything was so beautiful and clear and fresh and cool, like everything was celebrating. And those doughnuts tasted like sweet light and when I walked to see more flowers, I saw azaleas. Earlier I saw lavender irises. There were so many beautiful flowers and colors and kind people.

I love you daughter!!! Happy Early Birthday!

(I think that was one of the healthiest happiest lunches I ever ate! You rock!!! (Check mail soon:)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gfEWe8nr-r8

Bangladesh (Photo credit: aftab.)

My heart is heavy, thinking about those people who were buried, and who died, in the collapsed building in Bangladesh. I read in Sunday’s paper that rescuers are still finding some survivors, but the faint calls of survivors are turning fainter. I haven’t read the paper today.

For some reason, I thought those who died in this Bangladesh horror are mostly women, gone from here, now safe in heaven, safe from all harm. I thought of all the women sewing, making garments for other people. I thought of not buying garments for myself, at least for a while, out of respect.

Today my morning devotional, in “Streams in the Desert” is about “faith‘s tenacity,” which is that “determined” ability to see things through, according to a Princeton website dictionary.

The devotional said we have to “take hold” of faith, then “hold on” to faith, then “not let go” of faith. Sometimes it’s too difficult. Sometimes Jesus has to hold on to our faith, when we are too tired to hold on.

But Jesus cannot deny Himself. Jesus will keep our faith, through His inexhaustible strength and His amazing love, and His tender mercies. Jesus understands our sadness, when people die, or get hurt. He weeps too.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6_MIiTbS8k

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Boston (Photo credit: Bahman Farzad)

Last night, for part of my supper, I peeled and ate a navel orange, which was sweet and good and convenient. I didn’t think much about it until later.

Late last night, I was watching BBC news, about the Boston marathon bombing. I’d heard earlier, on other news, that one suspect had been killed by police and another suspect had been injured. I haven’t read the news today. Even talking to someone can be so distracting. Jesus said He will keep in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Him.

After I turned off BBC news last night, after I heard the bombing suspects were from Russia, I thought of a book called “Inside Russia Today” by John Gunther. The book’s first copyright is 1957. The map inside is labeled “The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.” The book belonged to my paternal grandmother, but I got permission from my parents to have the book, which I’m saving for my son, who likes old books, and history.

I saw on the cover of the book “Youth in Ferment” about some of the topics in the book. I started skimming through to a chapter called “Some Soviet Attitudes.”

The “Attitudes Toward the USA” sub-title, page 74 (hardback edition) explains that most Russians thought that only rich American males go to college, and that most of America is run by big business.

Here’s the last line of that paragraph, which stunned and saddened me: “I have heard a Russian boy ask quite seriously, ‘Are there mountains in America?’ and ‘Do you have oranges?’”

I put the book down. I couldn’t read anymore. I picked up another book called “The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency” by Alexander McCall Smith. I had marked the page with a gift bookmark (received in the mail) from the National Museum of African American History and Culture.

The detective story is set in Botswana, Africa. The lady detective is learning her father’s story, through his voice. Her father had to leave his country to work somewhere else. On page 26, paperback edition, it says this: “You could never tell; there are many sadnesses in the hearts of men who are far away from their countries.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJVesYKuIms

Today, at the Department of Human Services, I met a beautiful African American woman. We stood in line and talked. At one point, she said, “You never know what people go through.”

The beautiful lady’s name (and each woman is beautiful, as the book “Captivating” points out) is Amelia. She appeared to be in her early 30s. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying. She understood when I told her I used to cry every morning, and sometimes at night.

Amelia said she’d been in a bad car accident a few years ago. She still suffers. She said she was in a convertible with the top down when the accident happened. She wasn’t found for 12 hours and still doesn’t remember everything.

When it was my turn, the government employee who talked with me was very kind and very helpful.

We all waited quietly and peacefully for our turns, except for one frustrated man, who complained out loud. I wish he hadn’t complained, but then I thought of what Amelia said: We don’t know what he’s been through.

Mostly, everyone was peaceful, each waiting in line, with people of all colors and all ages, including children.

After I finished talking at the clerk’s window, about my case, and the appointment was scheduled, I turned to leave the government office. But something stopped me, something about the woman, Amelia, with her brave bold miraculous heart.

I walked back up to her and asked if I could hug her, because that’s what seemed good. She said yes and we hugged each other. We were close enough that I could feel and smell her soft fragrant hair. When I left, I knew this was the real America. The real America will empty out her pockets, full of love.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nc9gPylA-c8

Today, earlier, I felt resigned, about many things, and about what happened, in Boston.

Then later, walking into the library, I felt confused (and invalidated) when I mentioned my sadnesses to an acquaintance. (He had asked).

But the acquaintance gave bad answers, to all my sadnesses. He had an answer for everything. He said of the Boston massacre, “They’ll just party again soon.”  That was his Bible answer, from the book of Judges, he pointed out. So now I never want to read the book of Judges. I’m lucky never to have read any of the Bible all the way through. The Bible is a violent book.

This morning I was thinking, God put the life in the blood and There Will Be Blood. (But I don’t recommend the movie, which is hateful).

In this life, as long as there is life, there will be blood. In this life on Earth, along with the good, there will be murder and maiming and mayhem, as long as there’s any life left, because God put the life in the blood.

So this song, “Be Still My Soul” has been going through my mind. I first heard it at a Cumberland Presbyterian church. I hope the song helps, in some way.

“How long, O Lord, must I call for help, but You do not listen?

Or cry out to You, ‘Violence!’ but You do not save?

Why do You make me look at injustice?

Why do You tolerate wrong?

Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.” (Habakkuk 1: 2-3)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDkFL7yCGps

The Heart (Photo credit: petalouda62)

One grandmother made bread with her heart and the other made laughter with her heart, while her heart broke so many times, inside the pale pink bedroom, where the woman in a blue bonnet followed from the painting, at the little house on Jupiter Street.

My mother’s mother wore Coty face powder on her brave soft skin. She told me happy stories, which helped me sleep.

She sat with my mother on a porch swing in Gadsden, Alabama, so long ago, waiting. She told my mother it looked like they might spend their lives waiting.

And the writer Lee Smith knows about it, and wrote about it in “Fair and Tender Ladies.” She included poetry from Kathryn Stripling Byer, who knows about women too, and Byer sings to us in poems, from mountain poems like Weep-Willow from Wildwood Flower when she wrote “At night she watched the road and sang…one song led to one more song…She sang sad all night long.”

“Clear, clear back I hear her singing me to sleep…”

We wait with God and the television stories, hoping the night stays calm, our prayers and hymns like lullabies.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2xnPSRSSzU

Deep breath. I’m so out of breath. One thing after another.

I’m learning as I go. I put things up and take things down. I appreciate the “likes” about “Faith’s Danger.” But then I decided I put on the wrong song and the piece was too political too, and other things. For one thing, I pictured being in one of those churches I don’t like, that try to tell people how to vote. I don’t want to be political here. So I’m sorry for being political. Hopefully I will catch my breath again soon.

I found another beautiful book in the university library for 50 cents. It’s called “Japan: Selected Readings” by Hyman Kublin. Here’s something beautiful from the chapter called “Zen, Tea and Flowers.”

“Ikebana (flower arrangement) and cha-no-yu (tea ceremony) were studied by both men and women…for five hundred years.”

In the story, a young lady is learning the arts of flower arranging and tea ceremony. The Flower Master‘s name is “En-Ka-An.”

No matter how awkward the student’s early flower arrangements, the Master Teacher would say something like “What a beautiful arrangement!”

Toward the end of the story, there is a quote from Okakura, about our imperfect striving, our “tender attempts to accomplish something possible in this impossible thing we know as life.”

So here is another awkward arrangement, from my heart to yours, for one more day. Arigatou gozaimasu. And God bless you this Monday.

(Breathing’s softer now:) I hope you can hear and see this beautiful music video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hskCoPqt4yc

Before I forget, the name of the book about spiritual warfare is “Living in the Combat Zone” by Rick Renner.

Today I’ve been thinking about winning and losing. Sometimes in this life, we lose our beloved. Sometimes we lose the people, or the pets, or the things, that we love.

Sometimes, everything seems to fall apart.

But then (eventually today) one thought led to another thought, and all thoughts led to Jesus, by Whom and for Whom all things were created.

Jesus is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. (Colossians 1:17 New International Version).

I hope you have a good Thursday. I hope to see you again soon:)

God bless you, on this wonderful rainy day, here in Tennessee.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkASXisY9hQ