What is that we love about old barns? Is it the rusty old tin on the roof? Is the texture of weathered wood? Is it the skeletonized framework? I don’t really know why but I love old barns.
I have taken several pictures of this one and processed several versions but it just feels right in black and white.
Image was taken on Muddlety Creek Road in Nicholas County West Virginia
Okay, so I have written this and started over.
Then I didn’t like the way it sounded so I erased it and started over.
But, my writing wasn’t perfect so I deleted and started over.
And once again it wasn’t making sense so I started over.
Eventually I realized what God was trying to point out to me. Sunday is about a chance to start over. To delete the mistakes and have a fresh start. Christianity is about having the opportunity to allow Jesus Christ to erase all our sin and let us start over. It’s not just on Sundays, it’s every hour of every day for as long as it takes to be restored. That is the hope we celebrate on Sundays. That’s the hope we live with every day.
Image was taken in Deepwater West Virginia which is in Fayette County.
I watched this bumblebee working on the thistle and became enamored with the simplicity of its life. She isn’t in a rush to complete a quota. She isn’t distracted by all the activity of the other insects. She’s just being a bee and doing what she was born to do. She seemed to take pleasure in her small uncomplicated life.
“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” ~Lao Tzu
I sometimes wonder if the reason why everyone is always in such a rush is that we have left our natural purposes.
Somewhere, deep down inside we all know who we were born to be. It has nothing to do with jobs, social status or the expectations of others. It’s the thing that you do that causes you to lose track of time. When you look up and you’re amazed at how much got done without effort.
When you are just being what you were truly meant to be. That’s what happiness is.
I’m all out of deep thoughts today. Sometimes you just need to sit down and calmly recharge. It’s okay. Even Kal-El ( aka Superman) needed a day off to just go be Clark Kent. However, I’ll take a quiet spot on the lake over a frozen fortress any day.
This fishing peer on Summerville Lake in West Virginia is one of my many fortresses of solitude. It’s not that I’m really alone there, it’s actually a popular place. But it’s also a place where I feel free enough to put away the person who the world sees. I can tuck my cape into my shirt, slide on my glasses and pretend to be normal for a little while.
There is a place in my dreams where a lone tree stands bridging heaven and earth.
As nighttime falls and the land sleeps the clouds come dancing by.
Stars sing in chorus to the nightbird’s lonely cry.
A maiden enters my dreams. Her green eyes pierce the night and she takes my hand.
Rise up you sleeper she whispers softly.
This dream is short and our time has come.
Our thoughts and hearts are one.
But all too soon will come the dawn.
And our dreamworld will too soon be gone.
For sunbeams shatter dreams and the life that will be.
We loved and laughed with warm embrace beneath that single tree.
Til golden light erased the night and stole my dreams from me.
Beneath the sun I toil, the dream still in my head.
With hopes that my dream returns to me, when tonight I go to bed.
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