Have you ever met someone that you can not forget? Someone who left an impression on you so significant that they changed your thinking…a divine moment. Often our daily activities involve the wearing of our professional/social masks. We have been schooled from birth on what to say and what not to say. We do not want to interfere or be thought pushy or presumptuous. We care for our friends and colleagues and family…however we do not want to be considered…Out There…or extreme. Safe is our operative operational conduct. We have a good and encouraging word for others…but we do not want to be misunderstood.

Masks are removed from time to time. The reaction from our peers is amazement and joy and peace be unto you.

I have heard it said that a person who loses a loved one wishes that they had told them how much that they meant to them…before they passed away. At times life can be a bit artificial in our daily routine. We are fascinated by robots and we study the discipline of emulating them. Hurt comes with letting others see your soul…at times…but it is well worth the ride.

Secrets we keep…and we are quite good at keeping. A life well lived is a life of honesty and joy and suffering…and sharing the experience of our soul.

Seventy-two degrees and a steady rain…my kind of day. I have not experienced such a cool day since last spring. Jonathon tells me that if he wants to know anything about the weather forecast he simply asks me. I told him that we old folks enjoy watching the weather. It appears that we may be in store for a bit of the September Rains.

Yesterday at Giant City State Park I enjoyed the sound of silence. The woods are a wonderful place to commune with nature. The sandstone boulders and stone walls are accustomed to visitors. They simply ‘are’ and want you to be the same. I wonder if I have always realized the truth of simply ‘being’ and enjoying a sense of place. I am one of those old people that believe we all have a purpose…a calling…a mission… It is important to have times of silence…where we can hear the still small voice…and not the whirlwind…speak to our souls.

Leaders forget that many honest-hearted people feel marginalized and not seen by them. It is easy and comfortable to hang with your supporters and with those that you work closely with and those who see eye to eye with you…when you are a leader. It is more difficult to offer your outstretched hand to someone who perhaps will not return their hand… It is nice to fellowship with the outgoing and the extrovert and with those who seem to get things done…it takes a dedicated effort to include the introvert and the quiet and those who feel as if they have a lifetime membership in the second tier of the church…or the workplace…

A popular myth is that there are leaders and there are followers. There are those who are blessed with golden speech abilities and herculean planning skills. There are those who have the education and the life skills for the job… While the rest of us are the sheep…who require a diligent Sheepdog.

Many sit silently and watch deterioration and decay and diminishment…and know in their heart that they have some productive thoughts and life skills that could aid and perhaps turn around the dying of a magnificent institution…but no one has taken the time or exerted themselves enough to ask them to join at the table.

Pigeonhole is what we do with fellow congregants and our work colleagues. We develop a definition of a person and in our mind, they never break out of the parameters of that steel structure and form…

Change or Die…is my motto of life. We must recognize when something is not working and make the proper adjustments to facilitate continued growth and success. I had the opportunity to tell both chancellors and presidents of Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale that they had a plethora of talent under their noses and for the mistake of pigeonholing them and failing to ask this talented group for their help…our University was losing students by the thousands.

Credentials and certificates we love. Persistent bragging and telling lies for the truth…when done on a continuing basis…convinces a lot of people of the talents of someone who is no more than a good storyteller. Our attention spans are short and our problems are long. We research only the surface of the human talent we are surrounded with…when the needs are deep and require immersive study.

Change is life.

‘It was a great idea to stay overnight at the Gray Plaza Hotel in Marion so that we can explore Giant City, State Park,’ Chet remarked. ‘Yes I thought that it would be fun after our all-day visit to the DuQuoin State Fair for us to spend an additional day and camp overnight at Giant City before we return to Eldorado, Neva J. responded. Is it true that the glaciers caused all of the rock formations in the Park,’ Jane asked. ‘Giant City’ terrain is much different than most of Illinois and looks much more like it belongs in the Ozarks ‘Yes, the boulders are similar to those we saw at the Garden Of The Gods, humongous sandstone, Billy B. answered Jane with a wink and a grin. ‘The boulders are part of the Chesterian Formation and come from the Mississippian Period around 359 million years ago,’ Chet answered with a sly smile. ‘Thank you…Mr. Peabody,’ Jane laughed.

‘Simply a beautiful night to be camping under the stars,’ Neva J. said as if to herself. ‘September is some of the best camping because it is not so hot,’ Darryl agreed. ‘Goodness…did we forget the wine,’ Neva J. asked with a start. ‘No, NJ…it is in the other picnic basket,’ Jane chuckled. ‘I wonder what these rocks would say to us if they could speak,’ Billy B. mused. ‘Give me a blanket…I am chilly,’ Chet responded. ‘Rocks do not get cold,’ Billy B. answered. ‘Not the rocks…me…I am cold,’ Chet said through chattering teeth. ‘Maybe I should place another log on the campfire,’ Darryl said. ‘Yes…but first you will have to find another log…I looked high and low and could not find any more than the wood scraps that I gathered,’ Chet complained. ‘Hand me your flashlight Billy B. and I will make a wood run,’ Darryl said. ‘I will come along and help carry the wood…if we find any,’ Jane commented as she rose from around the dying embers of the campfire.

‘May I help you…’ said a Voice. ‘Pardon me…who is speaking,’ Jane asked with quavering speech. ‘May I help you,’ the Voice repeated. ‘Well yes…we need more wood for the campfire…and could you come out into the light of my torch so that I may see you clearly,’ Jane requested. A young man in brown clothing walked out of the lengthening shadows followed by two other men at his left and his right. ‘Who are you guys,’ Darryl asked. ‘We are members of the Civilian Conservation Corps and we are working on the Giant City Lodge,’ the man in front said. ‘How long have you been in the woods,’ Jane asked. ‘Well it seems like only a few days…FDR is still the President isn’t he,’ the young man asked. ‘No…we had chicken dinner at the Lodge and I saw a photo with all of you guys who worked on the lodge just outside the entrance to the dining room…I saw you three in it,’ Darryl responded.

‘Berl…I told you we took a wrong turn in the thicket, Merle said with a wicked grin.

I traveled to Giant City State Park today. It is only September 2nd…but that is good enough for me. Autumn had begun as far as I am concerned. I marvel at the broken boulders in a little creek that I enjoy taking photos of. I relish looking at the stone wall that was built as a retaining wall for the creek. I think of my father-in-law Berl and his twin brother Merle who worked for the Civilian Conservation Corp and aided in building the Giant City Lodge.

As I rested beneath the old trees and stone walls of Giant City I considered that my surroundings were telling me that they had seen my generation and many generations before me.

Yes…the woods speak to me. As I sit silently listening to the birds and watching the water flow through the ancient creeks…I hear the admonishment of the meaning of life. We live in a bit of an artificial world. Social circles and society and politics and religion have endeavored to construct a Wicker Man that represents our true reality. When I first heard about the internet…I was gobsmacked. I could not fathom that the literature of the ages and connection around our globe…and news available to me as fast as my telephone modem could download it…was available. I grew up searching the dictionary and the encyclopedia and learning my multiplication tables and how to write cursive. How was it possible for the wisdom of the ages to be at my fingertips…without leaving my desk chair? Now at the old age of nearly 65, I have discovered that the internet did not bring only good things…but damaging and destructive and conspiracy-filled content as well…

Easy it is to follow a lie. Research is to discover the truth. Everyone that you know can agree that a lie is truth…but that does not make it so. When Berl and Merle worked for the CCC…they did not have time to listen to conspiracy theories and lies and to follow the hidden agendas of Wolves dressed in Sheep’s clothing. The understood work from dawn to dusk. They understood calloused hands and sore backs and the joy of having enough money to purchase some food for their family. They knew that a stone wall was good. They realized that a stone wall would last and would be there for their children and their children’s children.

Maine is just around the corner. September 1st is here. God is in his Heaven and all is right with the world. I received a request from my friend Kathy today as to whether I would like to read scripture publically in our Sunday Worship Service…and I said yes without reservation. Faith and church and the study of Christ’s teachings have been my compelling passion for well over 50 years. When I was at the doorstep of retiring, I told my replacement that I had endeavored to conduct myself as a manager/administrator…as a Christian. I am not referring to the hard-nosed…John Wayne wannabes who believe that exclusion is the controlling precept of Jesus’ teaching…but simply put…love…forgiveness, and inclusion were the admonishments of the Carpenter that I sought to emulate in my conduct with my colleagues.

Fall allows me to reset my direction and what I want to accomplish with the remainder of my life. I almost never volunteer and I think it comes from my mother’s admonishment to not push myself forward where I may not be wanted. However when I am invited…I am compelled to accept the invitation. I have always been a bit of a rebel. Not a rebel without a cause but rather a seeker of truth and of following my heart and soul. When I read of my blogger and good friends’ struggles with blindness and being, by and large, confined to a wheelchair, and yet her insurmountable spirit…I think that I should do more to help others.

Our world is full of suffering and loneliness and religious/political confusion.,..we should be a lighthouse in the fog of war. We are entering the time of year when we take stock of where we have been and where we are going. We slow down a bit and we reflect on what our year has brought us…our accomplishments and what has yet to be done.

Life is a conundrum and the twists and turns that it can take…suddenly…can change your entire reality. So…we need an anchor in the waves of change and the swells of the Ocean we all are sailing on. Writing serves as an anchor for me. Through writing, I reflect upon and organize what I truly think and believe about the many challenges of our world. Writing is a mission and calling and a concrete expression of my journey back to Jerusalem.

I want to watch the Jerry Lewis Muscular Dystrophy Telethon this Labor Day Weekend…but Jerry is gone. MJ and I and baby Aaron were attending a church convention in Des Moines, Iowa many years ago. We were lodging at the local Howard Johnsons Hotel. They were famous for their seafood and were considered an upscale Hotel. I felt somewhat alone and out of place until I saw that they were hosting the Jerry Lewis Telethon. I had watched the Telethon since I was a child…now…I felt at home.

Aaron was born in November…I recall with great joy carrying him into our little four-room home in Elkville. I knew that a new chapter in MJ and my Story was in my arms…and I was overjoyed…