Michtam of John

Adapted from Psalm 16
Taking the first three words from each line.

Preserve me, O God from the lifting of the waves.
O my soul, guide me Jehovah, all my days.

But to the lovers of darkness, who would my soul ensnare.
Their sorrows shall increase as they fall in their own lair.

The Lord is able to guide me through temptation,
The lines are set and I await your day of salvation.

I will bless thee Yahweh today and always!
I have set my feet to forever walk in your praise.

Therefore my heart in stillness awaits the quieting of waves.

For thou wilt raise this soul so broken and lame.
Thou will shew sinners the power of your Holy name!

Edge of Gloam

Edge of Gloam

by John Stokes

They tell of a water, unbroken by time
Still, dark swirling through the night
Beyond the last bridge above Roline
Near Tupelo blooms hidden from sight.

Brightly glows the dawning of the gloam.

When moon gleams full above the cypress,
The red eyes of Leviathan rise and pierce.
In limestone caves the ferns swaying caress,
As downward the spin of saurian fierce.

Brightly glows the dawning of the gloam.

From tannic waters rise sandbars steep,
The roil of deep rippling far below.
In the distant den coyote pups sleep,
Awaiting Luna's command to rise and go.

Brightly glows the dawning of the gloam.

On blood tinged bank the arrow rests,
Vultures soar above a still stench.
Gut shots slow death of final rest,
Fawn's thirst for Suwannee never quenched.

Brightly glows the dawning of the gloam.

On to shoals below flows the dark parade,
Secrets untold, mysteries hid from ages.
Mists eternal rise deep within the glade,
Calm the surface, under tow of rage.

Brightly glows the dawning of the gloam.
Barred owls call, echoing, This is home.

To the unbroken waters, we yearn to roam.
Brightly glows the dawning of the gloam.

Suwannee Firelight

Since Landon and Jordon were little boys, Melanie and I have taken them to this large sandbar on the upper Suwannee River. To get to this sandbar, you travel on US441 15 miles North from I-10. Cone bridge landing sign is on the left. This dirt road is about a mile to the river. From Cone Bridge, the sandbar is a mile of paddling upstream.
Knowing that the moon was going to be full, Jordon and I wanted to take the opportunity we have never done at the sandbar and camp out. Yesterday we loaded the vehicle with the tent, sleeping bags,beach chairs and a cooler with cokes and hotdogs. We were at the sandbar by 5pm, set up camp then went for a wade in the now shallow Suwannee. It has been awhile since the river has been as low as it was. It was quite a sight to see the many gnarled and twisting tupelo and cypress roots, which normally would be underwater.
We were even able to see the two bridge pylon's of Cone Bridge, which also are normally underwater. The limestone caverns with overhanging vegetation was spectacular to behold as well. We saw two small alligators, one ibis and one turtle. Creatures were not in abundance. We came upon a doe deer that had died from an arrow wound, the arrow laying next to the carcass where the vultures discarded it. And one preying mantis that crawled up to my head.
The evening was filled with fun as we hiked through the dry stream bed to the backside of the sandbar to photograph the rising full moon.
It was there we met the small alligator by seeing his red eyes in the dark water. We hiked back,gathering firewood along the way. Supper were hot dogs without any fixings and cokes. We then played around with werewolf poses before taking a moonlit canoe trip upstream.
After midnight, we decided to move the tent from under the trees out onto the open sandbar where we could look up at the moon. After a few hours of restlessness, adjusting to the lumps, we dozed off. The night sleep was constantly interrupted by a distant coyote, a nearby barred owl and other unidentified sounds. My dreams were prophetic, but as usual, forgotten by six o'clock rising.
We packed early, paddled upstream a ways, catching mornings first light, before heading back to the ramp. We again loaded the truck, tied the canoe as snug as possible, then
made our way back home. Our only loss, the cooler top and lots of blood from mosquito's and ants.
There were way too many photographs taken, as I was overcome by the thrill of being here and not having to be rushed to return home by nightfall.
I will post the efforts at Smug Mug, eventually. For now, I am simply savoring a good time spent with Jordon and the creatures of the nocturne.

Dreams of Katie

Years ago when living in Williston, each Sunday afternoon I would take my guitar and help Mrs Rutland and her daughters teach Sunday School to the 'retarded' folks at Garden Park. This was the only group of people I ever played a guitar in front of, strumming simple songs in about the only three cords I knew. No matter. They thought me a Segovia. One particular person who took a particular liking to me was a lady named Katie. Katie was extremely affectionate and had no qualms about letting you know her affections.
For the Christmas party we held for them, Katie presented me with a book of neatly handwritten simple poems she had composed.
As she shyly handed me the poems, like a little girl she blushed and said "I love you Mr.Stokes!" "Now pluck that guitar for me!"
That was the last time I ever saw Katie. I often wonder what became of her, if she is still living, if she continues to write poetry. It is my continual search for this little book of poems, I trust has not been lost.
When I think of the long winter, and the coming hope for the spring thawing, the warmth of the memory of Katie helps break another ice crystal from the heart, as it flows on this tear stained cheek.

Will it always be winter?

The Long Winter

Day fifteen of the journey came with abysmal failures in purpose and direction. Failure to the point of sitting upon the road side and weeping, as if overtaken by a highwayman thief, beaten, robbed and left for dead. Day Sixteen dawned into a fog, covering the land with the mists, simplifying the complex landscape into only the essentials. Robbed of all my treasure, that is where I begin again. No good man is seen upon this highway. All pass upon the other side. Alone I stumble onward, this prize they say awaits at the end, this crown of life. Can this dead man walk again and claim this elusive, mysterious reward so many have trod before in search of?

A book arrived today, Olney Hymns by John Newton and William Cowper. It is written in the old English, with f's for sés. I leave you with a poem by Cowper.

Winter

See, how rude winter's icy hand
Has ftripp'd the trees, and feal'd the ground!
But fpring fhall foon his rage withftand,
And fpread new beauties all around.

My foul a fharper winter mourns,
Barren and fruitlefs I remain;
When will the gentle fpring return,
And bid my graces grow again?

Jefus, my glorious Sun, arife!
'Tis thine the frozen heart to move;
Oh! hufh thefe ftorns, and clear my fkies;
And let me feel they vital love!

Dear Lord, regard my feeble cry,
I faint and droop till thou appear;
Wilt thou permit thy plant to die?
Muft it be winter all the year?

Be ftill, my foul, and wait his hour,
With humble pray'r, and patient faith;
Till he reveals his gracious pow'r,
Repofe on what his promife faith.

He, by whofe all-commanding word
Seafons their changing courfe maintain,
In ev'ry change a pledge affords,
That none fhall feek his face in vain.

The Kniforspoonpod

Necessity is the mother of invention. My poor little tabletop tripod lost a leg recently. Do not know what happened to it. I took all the legs off the tripod several months ago to rig up a bicycle pod. That was a failed experiment and the pod pieces were relegated to the junk bin.
In the process of getting together a camping kit for the kayak, I had this genius thought. Why not make the tabletop tripod double up as a way to keep my knife,fork and spoon from getting lost by making them into a tripod?
So I drilled a hole through the utensils, twisted the ends in a vise and attached them to the head of the pod. Now I can go about taking photographs and at a moment notice, when hunger strikes, all I have to do is stop and start eating. I am sure that soon REI and LLBean will be calling, so let me go so I can continue perfecting my kniforspoonpod.

Caleb and Shellie

Pearce and Lois Mills

Sixty to One

Two events took place at Grace Church this week-end. The 60th wedding anniversary of Pearce and Lois Mills and the wedding of Caleb Jones and Shellie Kepner. The ends of the spectrum of life. The photographs shown at the Mills anniversary mostly black and white with film camera. The photographs of Caleb and Shellie, digital.

A bonus was having Melanie present at the wedding, despite being in Binsfeld, Germany. Landon set the laptop up, called her Skype number and voila, there she was, able to interact with us. It was great for her and us, as she was able to see and hear the wedding live, and talk to many of her friends in attendance today.

Mr Mills, about to undergo chemotherapy and ozone treatment for colon cancer, had to leave today before the wedding got underway, feeling bad. We need to lift him and his wife Lois up in prayer.

Seraphim Skies

Hymn 112

Angels Ministering to Christ and Saints
Isaac Watts

Great God! to what a glorious height
Hast thou advanced the Lord thy Son!
Angels, in all their robes of light,
Are made the servants of his throne.

Before his feet thine armies wait,
And swift as flames of fire they move,
-To manage his affairs of state,
In works of vengeance-and of love.

[His orders run through all the hosts;
Legions descend at his command,
To shield and guard our native coasts,
When foreign rage invades our land.]

Now they are sent to guide our feet
Up to the gates of thine abode;
Through all the dangers that we meet,
In traveling the heavenly road.

Lord, when I leave this mortal ground,
And thou shalt bid me rise and come-
Send a beloved angel down,
Safe to conduct my spirit home.

Coming out from work, heading for home, I looked up as always. There above was my guardian angel, awaiting me.
I exclaimed to those about me, Ahhh, Angel Skies as I took the ever present Canon A540 out of the front pocket of the shirt and took this photograph.

We the rational, the pragmatic shun the realm of the spirit, the mystical. It is to our sorrow that we walk in a darker light, when all about the brilliant aurora of the uncreated light sparkles His glory. Grant us eyes of faith to see beyond the obvious, beyond the here and now, to the possible eternity.

The Lonesome Lane

Melanie had a good flight to Washington, DC. She sat next to a gentleman from India, living in Texas. They had a good conversation. In DC, she had a stop over for a few hours. There she had a smoothie and a bagel. From there, she boarded a very crowded plane for Frankfurt,Germany. Having a center aisle seat, she was unable to prop her head on anything, did have no familiar shoulder, and thus got little sleep. The ipod she thought was loaded with many songs, only had four.
At 3AM she made it to Germany where Heather met her in the auto. She got to see firsthand the high speeds of the autobahn. She said it seemed only Mercedes and Volvos traveled the roads over here.
She slept most of the next day and has mostly lounged around the house. The house is upscale from the average house in Germany. The lady they rent it from lives in the states as well. It has a goldfish pond with bridge, the woodwork throughout like a swiss chalet.
Already, Melanie is putting in to move. She is in love with the pastoral scenery of rolling hills, crops in the fields, cattle and sheep. There are no large cities. Only villages. In the village she is near, you can hear the church bell tolling. She says it is like going back into the sixties.
We are able to communicate daily via the computer, with Skype. Skype is a free software phone for the computer. You can talk and
see the person if you have a webcam. I can even talk to her via my little ipod touch, which I downloaded Skype into and use a cell phone set of headphones with the built in microphone.
That is the latest and most up to date. She was keeping Ryland and Ella last evening for Heather, who was out. The kids go to bed at 8PM.
This Saturday she is going with them to Rylands soccer match. Just doing simple things, enjoying the laid back way of life.
Wonder if Germany has a need for a nurse and a photographer?