Into the Woods

I just had to walk into the woods. I think it's where imagination lives.
I imagine how much fun it would be to construct a tree house environment in such a place. All these nice straight trees are lined up in nice straight rows — making it easy to create a whole other world about 30 to 40 feet up. Just lash some horizontal poles and lay down some slab wood as a foundation — creating a house where chickadees are your neighbors.
And how much fun it would be to just play games in this woods — the trees providing the streets and alleys for tag and capture the flag.
And on a hot summer day, just disappearing into the woods, enjoying the cool shade, and laying down on a soft bed of pine needles under a flickering light canopy.
And it certainly was fun for my visual imagination.
Some people don't think they have an imagination. That's not true. They just haven't stopped the car along the road and walked into the woods. The folks at your destination can wait. Come on, you've all seen those lines of pine trees in your peripheral vision — alternating flashes of light and dark. Next time just pull over and walk into the woods.

Time in a Bottle

The last two weeks I've been having these flashbacks to Christmas when I was a boy. Yah, you always have that happen around this time of year, but for some reason the memories seem real vivid this year. What's up with that? I think it's a combination of the smell of Christmas trees, chocolate, and mixed nuts that activate my brain's memory banks.
I remember the pressure of the church Christmas program. I was good at the memorization of my lines, but the fear of performing in front of crowds was a killer. I remember at least one program I missed because I "lost my lunch" on the way out the door — heading to church.
I remember anticipating the opening of presents. My parents were always very generous people so there were many packages with my name on them and I spent a lot of time trying to guess the contents. And mom was a great baker — tons of good eats. Mom was also very creative so she checked out all the do-it-yourself Christmas decorations in Better Homes and Gardens and picked out a few for us to try. Being the creative sort, I could really get into that.
Then there was the neighborhood sledding hill. I great place except for one little issue — the telephone pole at the bottom on the left. Stay on course and it was no problem, but should one of your co-sled-riders drag their feet on the wrong side — well, you were destined to add to the red snow around the pole. Years later, at a reception after the presentation of a multi-media piece I had created, a kind older lady congratulated me and we started talking. She asked me what part of town I grew up in. It wasn't long and I discovered that I was talking to the lady who owned the the neighborhood hill property. She told me how the insurance companies had told her to keep the kids off the hill — but she didn't have the heart to do it. It was great to have the opportunity to thank her for the years of sliding fun.
Christmas memories are great — most of the time. I was very privileged, but for some, I'm sure, there is pain in Christmas memories. As our pastor said this morning — Christmas is really not about the past but about anticipation — and not just about anticipation of Jesus's first entrance into the world but that there will be a second entrance, and that entrance will usher in an eternity of glory and joy — and absolutely no pain — simply believe it and it will be yours.

Blessings

Bob