The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet,
And whither then? I cannot say.
– J.R.R. Tolkien
This morning we say goodbye to California and hello to the Oregon coast!
Coram Deo!
He tapped a yellowed newspaper ad dated October 12, 1888, and ran his fingernail under this:
J.C. COOGER AND G.M. DARK PRESENT THE PANDEMONIUM THEATER CO. COMBINED SIDE SHOWS AND UN-NATURAL MUSEUMS, INTERNATIONAL!
“J.C. G.M.” said Jim. “Those are the same initials as on the throwaways around town this week. But — it couldn’t be the same men…”
“No?” Will’s father rubbed his elbows. “My goose pimples run counter to that.”
He laid forth some other old newspapers.
“1860. 1846. Same ad. Same names. Same initials. Dark and Cooger, Cooger and Dark, they came and went, but only once every twenty, thirty, forty years, so people forgot. Where were they all the other years? Traveling. And more than traveling. Always in October: October 1846, October 1860, October 1888, October 1910, and October now, tonight.” His voice trailed off. “… Beware the autumn people…”
“What?”
“An old religious tract. Pastor Newgate Phillips, I think. Read it as a boy. How does it go again?”
He tried to remember. He licked his lips. He did remember.
” ‘For some, autumn comes early, stays late through life where October follows September and November touches October and then instead of December and Christ’s birth, there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again and old October and so on down the years, with no winter, spring, or revivifying summer. For these beings, fall is the ever normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir in their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. In gusts they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motions, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles — breaks. Such are the autumn people. Beware of them.’ ”
After a pause, both boys exhaled at once.
“The autumn people,” said Jim. “That’s them. Sure!”
“Then — ” Will swallowed — “does that make us… summer people?”
“Not quite.” Charles Halloway shook his head. “Oh, you’re nearer summer than me. If I was ever a rare fine summer person, that’s long ago. Most of us are half-and-half. The August noon in us works to stave off the November chills. We survive by what little Fourth of July wits we’ve stashed away. But there are times when we’re all autumn people.”
“Not you Dad!”
“Not you Mr. Halloway!”
He turned quickly to see both appraising him, paleness next to paleness, hands on knees as if to bolt.
“It’s a way of speaking. Easy, boys. I’m after the facts. Will, do you really know your Dad? Shouldn’t you know me, and me you, if it’s going to be us’ns again them’ns?”
– Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes
Coram Deo~
Touching up the first coat of paint on my newly acquired bedroom walls, I wondered: Is there someone in the world, a fellow soul, who is also painting their room today, at a different location on the globe?
And if this fellow soul is painting their room today, could they be painting it at the same crazy hour of 11p.m. like I am?
And if this fellow soul is painting their room today at the crazy hour of 11p.m., could they be painting it the same color I am?
And if this fellow soul is painting their room today at the crazy hour of 11p.m. in the same color I am, would they also finish the last brushstroke at the same time as me?
And if this fellow soul is painting their room today at the crazy hour of 11p.m. in the same color I am, finishing the last brushstroke at the moment in time I finished mine, would they look up and realize it was raining outside, then look down at their paint tray, rollers, and brush that they had to still wash, like I did?
And if this fellow soul is painting their room today at the crazy hour of 11p.m. in the same color I am, finishing the last brushstroke at the moment in time I finished mine, looking up and realizing that they had to wash their paint tray, rollers, and brushes, would they make a mad dash outside in the rain, at night, to run cold hose water over the paint tools like I did?
And if this crazy fellow is painting their room today at the crazy hour of 11p.m. in the same color I am, finishing the last brushstroke at the moment in time I finished mine, looking up and realizing that they had to wash their paint tray, rollers, and brushes, making a mad dash outside in the rain at night to run cold water over their paint tools, then coming back inside, would they suddenly feel tiredness grasp their bones and make them want to fall asleep, like I want to do now that there is a fresh coat of paint on the walls?
Coram Deo~
Here’s a fantastic quote from John Newton, stolen from Jerry Bridges Respectable Sins which I am currently reading through:
[One of the marks of Christian maturity which a believer should seek is] an acquiescence in the Lord’s will founded in a persuasion of His wisdom, holiness, sovereignty, and goodness… So far as we attain to this, we are secure from disappointment. Our own limited views, and short-sighted purposes and desires, may be, and will be, often over-ruled; but then our main and leading desire, that the will of the Lord may be done, must be accomplished. How highly does it become us, both as creatures and as sinners, to submit to the appointments of our Maker! and how necessary it is to our peace! This great attainment is too often unthought of, and over-looked; we are prone to fix our attention upon the second causes and immediate instruments of events; forgetting that whatever befalls us is seasonable in itself, and shall in the issue be productive of good. From hence arise impatience, resentment, and secret repinings, which are not only sinful, but tormenting; whereas, if all things are in His hand, if the very hairs on our head are numbered; if every event, great and small, is under the direction of His providence and purpose; and if He has a wise, holy, and gracious end in view, to which everything that happens is subordinate and subservient;– then we have nothing to do, but with patience and humility to follow as He leads, and cheefully to expect a happy issue… How happy are they who can resign all to Him, see His hand in every dispensation, and believe that He chooses better for them than they possibly could for themselves!
— John Newton
Coram Deo~
Here are a few excerpts from my life right now. It’s topsy-turvy, and messy around here, with people moving out, people moving to different rooms, construction projects, parties, cleaning, packing, and planning.
I’m deliberating over this color for my new room. Or maybe not… 
Enjoying a late afternoon coffee with Bekah, and taking in the last, lingering smears of buttery sunshine in the kitchen:
I’ve been running outside as often as I can to chase the light, colors, and wind before they disappear from our quickly changing property.
We all had the gratification the other night of holding a tiny, newborn peanut who has perfect teensy toes and fingers, wide eyes, a sweetly furrowed forehead, a thatch of downy hair, and an extremely funny expression about having his picture taken.
A brave few dressed up last night for a harvest party festival at our church, including Sarah, who helped run a game booth for the kids at the party.
Here I am sitting on top of the hill enjoying the last of the brilliant autumn sunsets with Sarah before the winter clouds roll in.
Some of us said hello one last time to Benny at his fire station, as he says goodbye to his career as a firefighter. New job horizons are opening up for him. The one thing he’ll miss the most is getting his sisters to make him homemade baked goods since he’s no longer going to be a firefighter!
Each day the past couple of weeks has had the proclivity to transmogrify into a long, unexpected chain of events. I’m not complaining! As a friend recently wrote to us, “As you step out into the cosmic canvas of the Master Artist, remember to notice and appreciate His use of an amazing variety of color, His meticulous attention to detail, and His incredible skill in every imaginable medium.” I couldn’t agree more, and it’s often amusing seeing what motley colors and what oddly placed brush strokes our great Artist uses. Not to worry, I know that it will look breathtaking when He’s finished. Even if you can identify more with being in a cartoon strip from time to time. 
Coram Deo!
We’re headed in a week and a day to spend Thanksgiving at a beach house — we stayed there last July and loved it so much that this year Mom had the brilliant idea of celebrating Thanksgiving there:
In-between reading books, soaking in the hot tub, cooking meals in the kitchen, playing games, snoozing, and journaling, we’ll be doing a bit of this:
I think we can bargain on watching a few ferocious storms, unlike last July when the weather was splendidly sunshiny and cloudy. We’re packing our duffel bags in expectation of rain — buckets and buckets of it:
The rest of this week is full of planning such minute details as: what books to bring, what heavy coats and cozy sweaters to pack, and what to have this Thanksgiving for our meal — We’re having the standard fare of turkey, for sure 
:
Some of the main highlights of this trip for me will be:
Coram Deo!
Sometimes the only appropriate response to life is to make a face.
Coram Deo!
“All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be.” — Psalm 139:16
I have come to the conclusion that I do not appreciate nightmares wherein I forget my camera bag with my camera and lenses at a restaurant, realize what I did an hour later in my dream, and rush back to the restaurant only to find someone has stolen all my precious camera gear! No, I do NOT appreciate this sort of nightmare at all.
Losing “everything” in my dream got me thinking, though, about just how tightly I hold onto my possessions, little and big, that I’ve worked hard to buy, and call my own. I would weep bitter tears over the loss or destruction of my camera, or even over the loss of my wimpy, little 50mm f/1.8 lens. But even if this did happen (perish the thought ), would I view it as an unconsolable loss, or would I reconsider the true worth of my possessions, and see it as a providential event from God in the process of bringing me closer to Him?
Our tendency, when we are threatened with the loss of our goods and kindred, is to grasp them tighter to avoid them slipping out of our fingers. This is partly good; we are supposed to have affection for things on this earth — even our Lord cares about such silly things as sparrows and lilies. And we are to be stewards of our time, money, and possessions, and loving, humble servants to our brothers and sisters in Christ, but when we grasp our goods and kindred tighter, and grow anxious over their fate to the point where we could not bear God prying our fingers off of them, we have let a soul-diminishing power to have possessions come between us and our love for God.
This quote from Jerry Bridges taken from his excellent book, Respectable Sins, speaks well about the sinfulness of our all-too-common response of anxiety and frustration over our circumstances or loss of our possessions:
Anxiety is a sin also because it is a lack of acceptance of God’s providence in our lives. God’s providence may be simply defined as God’s orchestrating all circumstances and events in His universe for His glory and the good of His people. Some believers have difficulty accepting the fact that God does in fact orchestrate all events and circumstances, even those of us who do believe it often lose sight of this glorious truth. Instead we tend to focus on the immediate causes of our anxiety rather than remembering that those causes are under the sovereign control of God.
So, even if it’s an annoyance as small as losing that hour of reading in a day, being exasperatingly misunderstood by others, or a hardship as big as suddenly suffering the loss of a loved wife, or the unremitting pains of bad health, remember that God orchestrates all events, mundane and monumental, to His glory, and the good of those who love Him and keep His commandments. Don’t be anxious, and don’t be frustrated when your plans waltz down a different path than the one you’re on. In every event, conversation, and day God will be glorified — there is a transcendent, perfect plan that rises above the clouded vision here on earth, yet is utterly involved in every word that is spoken, look that is given, and action made. God is not a heartless tyrant who takes joy in our frustrations and trials; the loss of one thing He replaces with something more glorious and lovely. Even if it is not the material replacement of a lost possession or earthly relationship, He is bringing you to greater joy and contentment in Him, and only Him. And this is a soul-comfort.
Coram Deo!
This is a repost of an acrostic poem that I wrote a few years ago, based on Lamentations 3, which is, of course, far more powerful, and moving in the actual verses than my weak paraphrase.
HOPE AND WAIT QUIETLY
His hand has led me in dark places
Only to Him have I directed my words
Pleading to Him with cries and shouts
Even still He shuts out my prayer
As a lion waits in ambush
Not content with any other prey
Desolation flows over my head like water
Without ceasing, rivers of water engulf my eyes
Aging, my bones grow weak and break
I know my strength and hope have perished
Taunting people mock me all the day
Quell these fears, says my soul
Unfathomable are His mercies every morning
Indescribable is His faithfulness to me
Eternal life is found in those who make Him their portion
Therefore I hope in Him!
Let us turn back to the Lord and lift our hearts
You are the redeemer of our lives.
Coram Deo~
I have an album of pictures up from my trip to Boston this last July, where I took part in Vision Forum’s Reformation 500 celebration honoring John Calvin’s 500th birthday. I have such a wealth of photos and memories from that trip, that I didn’t want to just keep them filed away in my photo library. I was blessed beyond measure to be able to stay with my friends, Laura and her daughter Renée Degroot. The whole event was over far too quickly, though; those few days we spent together at the Reformation 500 were crammed with conversation after wonderful conversation, heartening talks from exceptional speakers, evenings of clapping, singing, and foot stomping, and grand tours of the old city of Boston. It was a rousing time, indeed. What I wouldn’t give to go again now knowing more about photography. Oh well, there will be opportunities for other trips.
Go here to view my Reformation 500 album from my trip to Boston.
Coram Deo!