A RETIRED NEWSWOMAN, I live in a wooded creek-valley in a semi-rural township in Ohio, in a county that borders the south shore of the Great Lake Erie.
Topics and frequency of postings are according to my mood.
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I wrote the following on January 30, 2018 at 4:14, as an impulsive, free-form answer to my friend, meteorologist Andre Bernier on his WeatherJazz episode in which he asks his readers an "open-ended" question: HOW OFTEN DO YOU PRAY?
"I don't keep count, but it has to be fairly often, that I thank the Lord for all the good things that have visited my life; for they have brought me happiness and inspiration. I thank Him too for helping me to overcome the troubles and the sorrows, for they have made me stronger. I thank Him for the beauties that surround me; they are my consolation, and I promise Him I'll make a point of really seeing them, with eyes wide open. I sometimes ask Him how He came up with His plan for what my life would be; there was such a mix of everything as years went by. And yes, I talk with Him, almost story-like, about that life from my too-human point of view; as if He didn't know already. Sometimes I try to make Him laugh; and why not? He's the one who gave me such a deep appreciation of the value of the sense of humor. To me, my prayers to Him are much like walking with a friend, and sometimes that means I will be honest with Him when I feel grief or bitterness or disappointment; for that is what you do when you share your feelings with a friend. I rise early every day of every year to see the birth of each new day that He presents to me… I pray with joy; I pray with tears; I pray with laughter; I pray with love… and I pray that He will one day let me be again with all the loved ones I have lost."
Very cold, and close to 11 pm as Trump's speech ends... I go to the windows to see the unimpeded gleam of light from that big moon tonight. Only with the full snow pack on everything could there be the glow that so amazes me. Around the lower edge of south and east horizon, great burgeoning decks of clouds pick up the gleam provided by the open central core of sky through which arrives that light; to my surprise and awe. I stand so long, unmoving. If I weren't so tired, I would stand until that light was gone; all night if needed. A good speech, Mr. President. But you have lost the spotlight; it was overpowered by the beauty of the sky here in my valley.
Lovely, clear sky all night long, with the brightness of the moon shining down into my windows... At 6 a..m., the pre-dawn skies held the brightest, closest-to-the-earth stars I have seen in some time. It seemed I could have reached right up and touched them! Twenty-seven degrees this morning, and yesterday's squishy-thick mud is now hard-packed, hard-frozen and glistening in my flashlight's beam. Who knew mud could hold a bit of beauty?!? Take care! There may be black ice underneath your feet when you walk outside this morning. (Once again, thank God and my friend Connie that I am walking with her gift of YakTrax underneath my shoes!)