Creation’s Whispers


Of all the places I’ve been blessed to meander throughout this untamed, rugged, awesome Last Frontier corner of creation, Hatcher Pass remains among my most special.

You can’t see the forest for the trees.” . . . in today’s chaotic word, life’s ‘forest’ beauty is woefully shrouded by it’s tumultuous ‘trees’ of power, greed, bigotry, hatred, and lust.

Paradoxically, whenever my wanders find me above treeline, the calamity of life’s forests below fade, and I catch a glimpse of heaven’s serenity that awaits. Gratefully gazing in mystical wonder, such were where my thoughts drifted yesterday.

As high clouds accentuated the silence of creation’s calming whispers, here’s the ethereal Hatcher Pass scene I wish your eyes could have beheld it with me.

I M Blessed . . . May U B 2!

Yours, Lord, is the greatness and the power and the glory and majesty and the splendor, for everything in heaven and earth is Yours.

1 Chronicles 29:11

Keep Looking Up . . . His Best is Yet to Come!

Hatcher Pass, Alaska

Peace on the Edge


The sign belies the peaceful stability of silent solitude that was mine watching eagles soar high above the Matanuska River Valley . . . a treasured “Be still and know I am God” moment.

But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

Isaiah 40:31

I M Blessed… May U B 2

Keep Looking Up . . . His Best is Yet to Come!

Rusted and Restored


My rusted old watering can has sprung a leak. Over the years we’ve nurtured and raised many summers of vibrant flowerbeds together.

Having attained an advanced state of maturity???😊, and a tad rusted out myself, I’m not a big throw-away fan. I can remember my grandfather having me straighten out used nails . . . frugality on steroids! Sooooo, replacing my old watering with a new, rust-proof, sleek plastic model isn’t an option  . . . Flex-seal to the rescue! Successfully patched, we’re back watering flowerbeds again.

My restoration project reminded me of a story I reflect on for encouragement during times when past regrets threaten to crowd out present joys, pondering if my life’s purpose is to merely serve as a good bad example😊

During those less than a ‘10’, discouraging detours along life’s journey, here it is for encouragement, believing that He who brings “…beauty for ashes…” created you on purpose for a purpose.

  The Cracked Pot

A water-bearer had two pots, each hung on opposite ends of a pole he carried across his neck.  One of the pots had a crack in it. The other was perfect, always delivering a full portion of water at the end of a long walk from the stream to the Master’s house. The cracked pot always arrived half-full. Each day for two years, at the end of the long journey from the stream to the master’s house, the water-bearer delivered only one and a half pots of water.

The perfect pot was proud of its accomplishment to fulfill the purpose for which it had been made. The poor cracked pot was ashamed of its imperfection, miserable that it had only been able to accomplish half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what was perceived as a bitter failure, the unhappy, broken pot spoke to the water-bearer at the stream.

I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.”, the pot said.

Why?”, asked the water-bearer. “What are you ashamed of?

For the past two years I have been able to deliver only half my load because the crack in my side causes the water to leak out all the way back to your Master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all this work and don’t get full value from your efforts,” the broken pot said.

The water-bearer felt sorry for the old, cracked pot, and in his compassion said, “As we return to the Master’s house today, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.

As they went back up the path, the broken pot cheered up a bit observing the lovely flowers blooming in the sunlight along the path’s side. However, upon reaching the Master’s house, realizing it had leaked out half its load once again, the broken pot’s despondency returned, and so it apologized again to the water-bearer for its failure.

The water-bearer said to pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I have taken advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day, as we have walked back from the stream to the Master’s house, you have watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my Master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, He would not have this beauty to grace His house with.

Keep Looking Up . . . His Best is Yet to Come!

My Kinda’ Politician


Politics are not my thing. However, the combative tenure of the elections occurring in Alaska and Wyoming today is discouraging. Radical contention has replaced reasonable compromise. The “One Nation Under God” our founding fathers envisioned is sadly becoming two nations under political division.

As an octogenarian I’ve been privileged to witness times when “reaching across the aisle” was often the political norm, not the exception, and I grieve for the political tenure our children are inheriting. I continue to pray for our Nation’s leaders in both parties to contemplate their agendas with a “We” not “Me” focused perspective.

That said, I came across the story below about a former politician whose “We” political perspective was refreshingly encouraging, and pass it along optimistic that our Nation can come together and heal  . . .

If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”

2 Chronicles 7:14

Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia

During the worst days of Great Depression and all of World War II, five-foot 4-inch Fiorello LaGuardia was the mayor of New York City. A colorful character, dubbed the “Little Flower” by his adoring constituents for the carnation he always wore in his lapel, he was known to ride New York City fire engines; accompany the police on speakeasy raids; take entire orphanages to baseball games; and read the Sunday funnies to children on the radio whenever the New the New newspapers were on strike.

One bitterly cold, January night in 1935 mayor LaGuardia showed up at a night court in the city’s poorest ward. Dismissing the judge for the evening he took over the bench. A raggedy old woman, charged with stealing a loaf of bread was brought before him. Pleading her case, she told the mayor her sick daughter and two children had been abandoned by her husband, and her grandchildren were starving.

The shopkeeper from whom she had stolen the bread refused to drop the charges. “It’s a bad neighborhood your Honor. She needs to be punished to teach people around here a lesson!

LaGuardia sighed and addressed the woman. “I’ve got to punish you. The law makes no exceptions. Ten dollars or ten days in jail.” As he pronounced the sentence he reached into his pocket and tossed a 10 dollar bill into his famous sombrero.

Here’s the ten dollar fine, which I now remit; furthermore, I am going to fine everyone in this courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a person has to steal bread so that her grandchildren can eat. Mr. Bailiff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant.”


The next day New York City newspapers reported $47.50 was collected and given to the gratefully bewildered old lady who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed her starving grandchildren, 50 cents of which was contributed to the embarrassed, red-faced shopkeeper. The seventy some petty criminals, people with traffic violations, and New York City policemen present in the courtroom that evening, each who had paid 50 cents the mayor ordered, gave him a standing ovation.

Keep Looking Up . . . His Best is Yet to Come!

Soul Therapy


Gentle rain wanderings offer ethereal “Be still and know that I am God” soul therapy. Here’s a couple “Just walking in the rain” therapy scenes that soothed my soul today. I M Blessed . . . May U B 2 

Keep Looking Up . . . His Best is Yet to Come! 

Chugach Range – Chickaloon, AK

Fish Lake – Chickaloon, AK

Day’s End


Peace cloaked my soul witnessing creation whisper “Good Night” in celestial hues.

Be still and know that I am God.” –  Psalm 46:10

Great Smoky Mountain Sunset

Keep Looking Up . . . His Best is Yet to Come!

Red Dawn


Great Smoky Mountains Sunrise

The 1984 movie Red Dawn portrays a group of teenagers banding together to defend their town and country from an invasion feared as the dawn of World War III. Entertaining, far-fetched cinema back then, still serves as an ominous warning in today’s contentious world.

Today’s sunrise was a Red Dawn of a more peaceful genre, a glowing splendor awareness of my insignificant, infinitesimal smallness, and His magnificent, unfathomable love. Were that our world would acknowledge our controversial smallness and pursue His healing greatness.

One generation commends your works to another; they tell of Your mighty acts. They speak of the glorious splendor of Your majesty”.

Psalm 145:4-5

Keep Looking Up . . . His Best is Yet to Come!

Sunset Promise


Life’s storms are inevitable. Watching our Creator brush His sunset masterpiece across the heavens nurtured the thought . . . magnificent sunsets are cast on cloudy skies.

Ralph Waldo Emerson’s poetic words sealed my peace . . . “Every sunset brings the promise of a new dawn.”

The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth His handywork. – Psalm 19:1

Dancing Waters


Waterfalls are Nature’s poetry in motion. Their roar of their turbulent flow embraces a quixotic, soothing serenity. Fueled by last night’s thunderstorms, I sat stream-side in eye candy wonder, listening to Creation’s rushing water symphony.  I M blessed . . . May U B 2.

Keep Looking Up . . . His best is yet to come!

WORRY


Worry is no joke! Its stress causes serious problems. Worry’s stress hormones in the brain have been linked to shrinking brain mass; lowering IQ; heart disease; cancer; premature aging; predicting martial problems; family dysfunction; clinical depression; and making seniors more prone to dementia and Alzheimer’s.

Some 500 hundred years ago, Michel de Montaigne said: “My life has been filled with terrible misfortune; most of which never happened. In 2015, long before Covid added to this world’s worried stress overload, an article published in the now-closed Huff Post reported on a study that confirms Montaigne’s humorous, but sadly spot-on quip.

In this study, subjects were asked to write down their worries over an extended period of time and then identify how their perceived misfortunes actually materialized. The results were as follows:

  • 85 % of what subjects worried about never happened.
  • With the 15 % that did happen, 79 % of subjects discovered either they could handle the difficulty better than expected, or the difficulty taught them a lesson worth learning.
  • This means that 97 % of worries consists of self-inflicted, mind punishing, fearful exaggerations and misconceptions.

That leaves just 3 % of legitimate worries that most likely will happen just as imagined, regardless of whatever mitigating interventions may be implemented.

Perhaps there’s a tad of subtle credibility in Mad Magazine’s smiling, half-wit icon, Alfred E. Neuman’s motto. . . What, Me Worry? However, Alfred’s humorous motto is unrealistic, wishful thinking.

Truth is, some 2,000 years ago, One who carries the worries of each of us stated worry’s ultimate, one-day-at-a-time, remedy:

Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” – Matthew 6:31