Gnarled branches in a tree

The doorbell rang and a neighbor invited me to come out to the street.

She had been walking her dog, looked up and saw this:

One more result of Hurricane Irma.

It seems the aftermath continues.

It's hard to see in a photo taken by a phone but one limb is split and hanging by what looks like splinters.  At least that's how it looks from the ground.  The leaves around it are dead.  When it drops it's going to be a mess.

"You need to call someone", the neighbor said.  "It's going to fall and hit the corner of your house."

The only thing is - this tree is not in my yard.  Therefore at this time, it is not my responsibility. Until those branches that are holding on by a thread come crashing down.

I overreacted (surprise, surprise)

I did what I always do ... I called my son.  He's slammed with work "People whose houses are already damaged - not those who might have an issue."

And then I prayed (I know why didn't I do that first?).

And the answer came - I was reminded that the tree is not in my yard.  It is not my responsibility.  I should not do anything -- except tell my neighbor - the one whose front yard boasts that pretty tree. 

I've been trying not to be a "tend to it",  but sometimes I have no choice.  So, I showed the gnarled limb to my neighbor who was very appreciative as she said: "I'll call my tree man".

One of these days I might learn just to let things happen without getting myself into a panic.

"Be still and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10).

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Locked gates

      As Hurricane Irma approached and preparations were being made, I knew that one of the first things to close would be Walter Jones Historical Park where the Mandarin Museum is.  My task was to notify those volunteers who would be serving on September 9 and tell them not to report for duty on that Saturday.

     As we began to hunker down, I heard that the City of Jacksonville was going to send workers to board the windows on the historic St. Joseph's Mission Schoolhouse for African American Children.

     And I knew that the gate to the park would be locked.

     The storm came.  Leaves, limbs and some trees fell to the ground inside the park.  It was not a pretty sight.  There was no power.  The gates remained locked. The Museum would not open on September 16.

     On Monday, September 18, Gabrielle Dempsey, the Facilities Chair on the Museum Board, assessed the situation.  The representative from the City said it should be cleared for us to go in and complete the cleanup by Thursday.  We have a big day planned for the 23rd.

     I sent a message to our volunteers.  We would have a work day on Thursday.  We arrived.  The gate was still locked.  so another message went out.

     We came back on Friday and the gate was still locked.

     We were a bit distressed.  It looked okay.

     But what could we not see?

     Maybe snakes, maybe limbs that would be the culprit causing a fall, maybe dirty water that had made its way up from the river.

     Surely there was a reason - even when we couldn't see it.

     I remembered 25 years ago when my parents were about to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.  My Aunt Carolyn had an apartment adjacent to the dining room in our home.  My mother always just walked in without knocking.

     One day as she did that, she was shooed away. There seemed to be a party going on. She could not imagine.  Her feelings were really hurt.

     Until the day of their anniversary arrived.  My mother opened Aunt Carolyn's gift - a beautiful quilt with nine names embroidered (hers and daddy's; the four of us and our children.  Dan and Meg had not yet been born). My aunt and her friends obviously had something to "hide".

     Sometimes it's good not to know what's behind a locked door - or fence.

     Earlier today (9/22) we learned that the gate would be open on Saturday and we should proceed with "Smithsonian Museum Day Live" when all of our park's buildings will be open, the Maple Leaf divers will be aboard, the World War I Exhibit and many pieces of art that was done by Mandarin artisans available for the public to enjoy.  All this at no charge to our guests.  Of course, the frogman will be around - and there will be frogs and turtles for sale.   

     I will not be the one who checks for snakes.  It is my job to get the volunteers!

" For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known," (I Corinthians 13:12).

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Aunt Thelma at the piano

Hurricane Irma approaches Florida.  My South Florida children are evacuating today.  My aunt Beth who lives at Crescent Beach will be on the way to Georgia soon and I'm bringing my mother to stay with me for a couple of days.  Lots of preparation is the order of the day.

Early this morning as I began to make my own preparations, I was reminded of one of my mother's childhood memories - something she often shared with us.

Mother's family lived in an old farm house that had been built in 1888.  My grandparents purchased it sometime in the 1930's.  From that time until my parents sold it in 1996, it held many memories for our family.

For a long time, we have affectionately called it the Big House.  And one thing that we all appreciated was the sound of the rain on the tin roof.

The sound of the rain was one thing.  Storms that were accompanied by flashes of lightning and the sound of thunder did not bring that same sense of peace.

Terror might be a better word.

At least to my mother's sister, Thelma.

"Every time there was a storm, we could find  Thelma sitting at the piano playing hymns", mother has said.

My guess is that all five sisters and their older brother joined in.

I thought of that this morning as the news of Hurricane Irma pelted any electronic device imaginable from television to radio to Facebook and Twitter.  Not to mention - every conversation was about it.

While I may not be terrified today, I have been remembering some words from Scripture and some of the songs of my childhood.  "With Christ in the Vessel, we can smile at the storm"; (composer unknown)  and "Till the storm passes over, till the thunder sounds no more; Till the clouds roll forever from the sky, Hold me fast, let me stand in the hollow of Thy hand Keep me safe till the storm passes by" (Mosey Lister).

And the words from Scripture:

And he (Jesus) arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be  still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm."  Mark 4:39

What this says to me is that although we are so unsure of the weather (just as we are often unsure of the path of our lives), there can still be peace in the midst of the storm.  I don't have a piano.  I do have Pandora.  And you can be sure I'm listening and singing those same songs that Aunt Thelma played!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows