Life in No Particular Order

In the quiet of a house asleep I can put my mind to rest and let it wander to far off places.  Some I’ve been to, some not, but all are dreams that bring me to an uplifting place.  I think these flights of fantasy are what separate us from the other animals on this sphere, and also from each other.  It is sad to think some go through life, trudging along without dreams, without desires and without hope, or whose life is so burdensome they do not see the joy awaiting them tomorrow.

In flight I see the rush of the cloud tops as we climb from the gray of a California winter into the bright sunlit spaces above the Sierra Nevada Mountains.  The clouds are an ocean of white below, filling the valleys and covering the towns, but as they wash against the mountains they seem like waves of the ocean.  Each time I did this during my four winters in Sacramento the world was made new for me, my purpose in life understood and a hope to see the light of tomorrow renewed.

Walking through the Christmas kinder-fest in Vienna during a cold snowy Thanksgiving weekend reminds me of the common heritage I share with the Europeans.  I see in them the same joys of children, the spirit of the Christmas season I have and I marvel at a beautiful city their ancestors’ created, and they and we have repaired from the damages of the second Great War.  The city is alive with humanity, each in their own world, yet each connected to one another in this one.

Mile after mile the road travels in an endless straight line.  The interstate is still young and its path has not yet fully matured.  Occasionally I am detoured off to the roads of yesterday where I drive through the towns that will soon be isolated and alone because the interstate has taken their life.  The country is flat as far as the eye can see.  Corn and wheat by the peck, by the bushel, by the train car full is growing to feed the nation and the world.  I think as I drive, leaving home to start my adult life, about how far this nation has come in just the 70 years since the century was new.  At the turn of the century the majority of our nation worked the land, following livestock pulling simple machines, just as their fathers and grandfathers had done.  On this day I see huge combines doing the work of 10 men, cutting the corn, separating cob from stalk and wheat from chaff, preparing it for its future role as feed for us or our cattle.

Filling my car with gas in an isolated gas station on the great salt flats I say hi to the other driver, coming from the opposite direction.  We exchange pleasantries, about the day, the wonder of Utah and where we are from and where we are going.  Normal conversation that reveals an amazing truth, we are both from the same county in New York – the one I am leaving and she returning to.  This is a small world.  Through my life I will find this truth revealed often.

Resting on a West Virginia mountaintop, watching the clouds form, I wonder why God does not answer me.  Why must I answer my own questions in the tears of youth?  Why has he abandoned me in this life?  Slowly, in the quiet of the mountains he is revealed and my questions are answered.  Not in the way I want but in the way he is.  The beauty of nature, the strength he provides, the light of the peace he offers.  I come to find his strength and he is there to share it.  I find for me the strength of his word is in each of us, perhaps it is louder in a collective, but God looks to us as individuals not as collectives.

Space, the vast reaches beyond the sky.  I watch as man sets foot on the Moon and imagine what it must be like.  The scientists, engineers, technicians and the astronauts (and cosmonauts) all show us a way to the future.  Will we be able to continue that journey or will we lose our way?  The answer to that is yet to be determined, but I am worried we will stop looking up and begin to trudge along day to day, without desire and without hope.