October 16th

It was a day of uneasy scenes that didn't quite fit in the frame. We got up early and rode the bike to Daytona Beach to see exactly what we thought we'd see but less of it. The sky was cloudy gray with swaths of blue exposing themselves more boldly as the morning progressed. The trees along the way showed signs of change, but only slightly. The fields displayed fading, golden weeds and green edged with brown. Traffic was not particularly heavy.

We were about ten miles out from the Daytona Beach exit when I noticed no traffic was coming west toward us on I-4. The long stretch of rode was empty like the sky after 9-11. It felt odd. Then I saw flashing lights and a smashed truck on one side of the rode and emergency vehicles and a car in a ditch and the bodies of two bikers laying out in the middle of the rode with brilliant colored tarps over them. The bikes were already gone. I learned they were bikers on the six o'clock news later in the day. It was an uncomfortable sight. I thought about the families and sent up prayers for them and for our continued safety on our journey. Then I asked myself, what would we do without tarps? Thoughts are strange like that sometimes. My gyroscope uprights me during even the darkest of hours often with a twist of humor. I felt a sense of compatibiltiy with the author of Ecclesiastes today when he said, "...but time and chance happen to them all. For no one can anticipate the time of disaster. Like fish taken in a cruel net and like birds caught in a snare, so mortals are snared at a time of calamity, when it suddenly falls upon them."

When I was younger and read Ecclesiastes, it baffled me, but not so much any more. It's a clear view of life. Life is what it is; it's not what it's not, and it's all what we make of it. Even on a day of uneasy scenes, I'm comfortable with that.

Peace. Love, Linda

Who Controls the Rain

The rain blows in the night, and I hear it splat against the bedroom window. There's evidence of its strength marked on the kitchen ceiling where water has blown into the chimney pipe and rolled down the rafters and left damp prints in the drywall. It will quit soon, but I don't know exactly when. I don't control the rain.

The water is building in the dip in the back yard to levels I've not seen before. It started out creeping closer to the house but now it appears to be picking up the pace. I wonder what kind of creatures are out there moving to new territory because of the quick and drastic change in their ecosystem. I wonder how far the water will flow before it begins receding, and I wonder who is drenched with sorrow because everything they own is now flooded, and I wonder when it will stop because I don't control the rain.

The traffic newsmakers are busy this weekend because the roads are slick with water and oil and visibiltiy is limited. Cars are smashing into cars and trucks are smashing into trucks and many of them are ramming into poles and running into ditches. The rain still falls, and I'm sure the State Troopers and traffic cops are weary,
but all of this will pass as rainy events do. I just don't know exactly when. I don't control the rain.

I watch the clouds roll and the water swirl and visualize the trees and grass and flowers pulling in the fresh moisture and sending prayers of thanks while loving every minute of it. I picture the clean, crisp, blue of sky after storm and the slant of fall light that falls on the lake with immense beauty, and I say thank you, God, for the rain. In your world, "all things work together for good for those who love God, according to His purpose." All means everything, even what appears to be a ceaseless, annoying rain.

Peace. Love, Linda