Thoughts from a snowed in writer

Once again I apologize for my absence. Family medical reasons have kept me away for longer than I have wanted. I’m working on my book, doing some hiking, and other "stuff" but this morning I’m trapped by the snow, so I have plenty of time for a cup of coffee and a muffin.

Have you seen the news? What’s going on? What have we done to our children? And really, did we need the news to tell us what’s in our faces if we will just look around? Why are they not getting the education they deserve? Why do we have generations of parents who are ok with kids quitting school or going on the dole because they are not encouraged to do anything else?
Why do we supply millions for weapons and nothing to fix the leaks in the schools and have up to date books in the classroom? Or is that billions?

Before you start waving the flag at me, I helped defend that flag, and I vote, so I have a right to speak, and let me be clear, I will defend this country until I am dead and gone. It’s almost Christmas, and why are children starving in this country and without medical assistance? Why are our veterans sleeping under bridges? You don’t see it? Well open your eyes! When I lived in Cincinnati and worked for the utility I regularly saw men sleeping near the big transformers not a mile from the city center. Why, well any science student will tell you that the electricity running through the coils in the transformers produces heat. That is any science student who is still in school. Most homeless men know more about insulation than the typical student.

I know it looks hopeless sometimes, but if everyone who is sick and tired of what we have done to Christmas would just spend a few hours at the homeless center helping, or at the thrift store sorting clothing, the world would be a better place for a few minutes.

A week or so ago I spent time with others, from my church, at the thrift store. I’m not good for much, but I can sort bags of donated clothing, and for a few hours we laughed and talked while we made a small dent in the bags. It’s wonderful to give, but then it takes warm bodies to get the things ready for the store, and listen, nobody is making a profit. The go back to feed the homeless, and a lot of the times the things are given away to the person in need. A little time there and the hope returns.

A country that treats its old people, homeless, and children the way we do needs to be looked at more closely. I don’t know many lawmakers, but I wonder if they would be ashamed if they looked a homeless family in the eyes. I wonder if they have seen the people sleeping on the grates in DC? I know there are good people out there. You know what kind of a person or child you’ve raised when they are willing to feed the homeless or donate a goat before they think about gifts for themselves.

We can turn this country around, by one person caring about another person, and so on.
Well, it’s my blog and I can rant if I want!

I know I’m not alone in this thinking, but I’m snowed in today, and maybe it’s not good to watch too much TV.

I think I have shared this poem with you before, but it seems appropriate. What will your prayers be this holiday season?

Get Up

Get Up
GET UP, you’re thinking about the game anyway.
You’re looking sideways at Janet Thompson’s legs
anyway.

Get Up
Walk back the aisle. Don’t think about
the stares, the whispers, or the preacher.
Push open the double doors at the back of the sanctuary,
run down the limestone steps, across the flagstone walk,
past the parking lot full of shiny cars, and up the street.

Run to the corner where the old woman
sits on the grate, wipes the snot from her nose,
cracks the snow from her hair.
Walk up to her and beg her forgiveness,
rip your pocket off, and give her all the
money you have.

Maybe
Maybe
Just maybe then, you’ll really know what
to pray for, and what the truth is.

Days With Family

My family, from the north, visited last week. It was a wonderful week, and the little girls enjoyed our outings to the river where they collected rocks. Well, at least one did, the other little girl just liked her feet in the cool water.

The time was good for me because I was able to get all the baby kisses I needed, and I was also able to spend some time with my son. He is a chef in the city, has a pretty hectic life, and wanted to slow down and be on some high trails while they were here.

One of the days we were able to get out we packed a day pack and headed for Springer Mountain. My son wants to hike some on the Appalachian Trail, and I thought it would be a good place where he could get a taste of what it would be like. What better place to start than a climb to the plaque at the southern terminus of the 2167 mile trail. It was a good hike, making me wish I was in better shape, but I didn’t die, and that’s a good thing. It was a gorgeous day, and I could see the beautiful North Georgia Mountains curving toward the horizon.

We wanted to test out some meals, so we went to the Springer Shelter and set up our stoves for lunch, and then it was back down the rocky path to the car and home.

Every father dreams dreams of what his children will be when they grow up. I don’t remember what mine were. I guess I just prayed I wouldn’t screw up my part of the story. As I watched my Son ahead of me on the trail, I realized that he was much more than I prayed for. He is a good man, a wonderful father, provider and a faithful Christian. He has written a much better story than I could have written for him. The way it should be.

Tributary

I skim the stone bowl,
Scoop the dregs away.
Watch the spring clear itself.
Remembering a time when
I could drink freely
Taste the coolness after the climb.

I watch the downhill seep
Knowing that days from now
It will join with darker waters
Down there in the world.

And so will I.

Robert W. Kimsey