Shades of Gray from Grayson Co, TX #802 – I can almost smell the popcorn.

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As much as we sometimes feel we wish we could, you cannot go back.

But ever so often, in spite of the absolute clarity of that truth, we get a brief moment in time that we can almost feel that we have.

The Texas theatre in “downtown” Sweetwater TX is one of those places.

Driving by in late dusk, it was hardly possible to not stop.

I was lazy and didn’t even bother to pull out my tripod. I rested my Nikon against a light pole for this 2 1/2 second exposure.

Who says you can’t go back, I could even smell popcorn!         monos en theos…†…jim

IMAGES OF SMALL – THINGS FROM THE BIGGEST COUNTY IN TEXAS #658 – SOMETHING OLD THAT MY GRANDFATHER USED TO HOLD.

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I am a sentimental old fellow. I am blessed to have many tools and such that belonged to my dad and my granddad. I even carry the name of both of them in my first and middle moniker.

I have had this old Millers Falls drill for a good while. It’s design and mechanism have always cried out to be photographed. It also gives me the tender grace of feeling my PaPa Jim’s solid hands upon it.

The best hand drills ever made came out of the Millers Falls factory in the first half of the 20th century. While many people used these drills for boring holes in metal, the tools proved remarkably adept at becoming the first generation of cordless drills for woodworking.

These drills are today called eggbeater drills because of the way the drive mechanism works. The main gear turns either one or two pinions on the tool’s shaft to turn the chuck backward or forward , just like an old kitchen eggbeater.

Be warmed by connection to your past! ††† en theos ††† jim

Photos on the journey #461

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Okay, I enjoy a walk as much as the next guy. But as a man who fights depression and anxiety, I have to be mindful of ruminating, and it is one of my biggest battles. I often replay a baseball pitch from a little league baseball game from 50 years ago. Still trying to hit that ball out of the park in the big game, bottom of the last inning, two out, and bases loaded. The mighty Casey hits a long fly-out to end the game. How many times I have replayed it trying to hit that damn ball out of the park.

So walking is one of my ways of staying away from falling into the rumination pit. It works. And then I come around a corner and find myself walking along side a building that is just full of things I could get stuck chewing on for hours. Makes me feel like a am walking in a nightmare.

So what did you get stuck on today ? pezfulezfeelin’@U ††† en theos ††† jlawrence

Photos on the journey #381

BOXERS OR BRIEFS ???

Such a personal question, yet there the answer lay in public site for all to see.

Occasionally on our walks at home, the smell of laundry being done causes us to acknowledge its presence. Most often that is the aroma of a chemical induced electric dryer smell. This was different. From a sidewalk away, the reminder of a time past wafted into our hearts.

Such order, such cleanliness, so “green”. I imaged a kindly nana, showing her nina the structure and complexity of the seemingly simple task of hanging clothes. A drift to the backyard of childhood, when secrets were not kept, order was shown, the laundry smelled true.

en theos†††††jim

Photo of Da Day @ Da Pine #367

An image inspired by the very meaningful lyrics from Mike Weaver aka Big DaddyWeave…”Redeemed”

It is my anthem that I listen to every day as a reminder to the fact that I have been redeemed. I slip, I fall, I trip, I fail, I am haunted, but I am Redeemed.

Big Daddy Weave’s backstory

Seems like all I can see was the struggle
Haunted by ghosts that lived in my past
Bound up in shackles of all my failures
Wondering how long is this gonna last
Then You look at this prisoner and say to me “son
Stop fighting a fight that’s already been won”

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I’ll shake off theses heavy chains
Wipe away every stain now I’m not who I used to be
I am redeemed

All my life I have been called unworthy
Named by the voice of my shame and regret
But when I hear You whisper, “Child lift up your head”
I remember oh God, You’re not done with me yet

I don’t have to be the old man inside of me
Cause his day is long dead and gone
I’ve got a new name, a new life I’m not the same
And a hope that will carry me home

Photo of Da day @ Da Pine #116

      It had been as close to a perfect day as I could have. We had seen nature show us life, death and a lot of what goes on in between. Susan and I were provided with a day as full as were our hearts.

We had sat and watched birds at a small spring. At first shy from our presence, then in our (His?) stillness they slowly returned to present us their colorful creation. I was feeling good, old worries of my strayed path, life on that wide road had dimmed.

Then, we came upon this little game trail, it was to me a narrow path and I was not on it. Nor would I follow it, just now.

And I came to a profound peace, that our gauge of narrow changes as does our journey and life. What is narrow for some is wide for others.

You have to travel on your path, sometimes the Interstate, other  times a Blue road. Then finally, narrow becomes just wide enough for you.

Enjoy the path you are on ! † nada te turbe†††jim