Written on Friday, Sept 1, 2017
I'm thinking about "finding time." It is the beginning of Labor Day weekend in New Hampshire. Many hundreds, if not thousands of cars, will crowd the Interstate up the coast from Boston, through Portsmouth, and on up the Maine coast. Hundreds will peel off onto Route 16, the White Mountain Highway, passing within a mile of our little road to Ossipee Lake, to see, be in, the mountains. To get away, leaving cities behind, hoping to rest, paddle, swim, be with families, barbeque.
The air today is stunningly clear. The wind raises white caps across Ossipee - too much for me and my canoe to make it to the mouth of Pine River for my daily peaceful paddle "to the bridge," checking on the flowers that are passing and the new, autumn flowers still coming. The brilliant cardinal flowers are slowly disappearing. And, more and more, there are signs of late summer's dying beauty.
The days, and the river flowers, spell the time of seasons changing. With three weeks to go before we turn homeward to Minnesota, we scramble to try to see all the people we'd longed, through the year, to see. Will there be time?
And, what about the writing, that could still be done in this precious time away? Molly, with her book of stories from Africa. Me, with my "Notes on Life: Reflections on a World Changing, from an Old Pilgrim Returning Home"?
Even here, with no one to say us nay, it is hard to capture time, and just sit down and look at lake and hills, and just to write what God seems to be prompting me to say.
The chill comes on as I sit on this afternoon deck to write what I feel about seasons of the earth, and of the soul, and of life.
Sometimes the answer seems to be to just start writing. To take the time that's here today, and write even what may only be a few pages. Just say it, for whatever it means.
I marvel at what came to Jesus to say - actually to a very small cadre of friends. Not knowing they'd be read and re-read for 20 centuries.
His insights are so sudden, almost blurting out something He's known for a long time. "Blessed are the meek." Oh, really? The hang-back, humble, shadow people? Not the ones who instinctively seek the center of attention?
"You are the light of the world." You are meant to shine, and be seen, and be an example.
"You are Peter, and on this Rock I will build My Church."
I think most of us have more to say than we dare to say, and that those held-back words and ideas are important ones for the world to hear. I am going to try to say it. You say it, too.
Arthur A Rouner, Jr -
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