Category: POSTS

It’s this. The look I see, in this mesmerizing mural. It’s especially daunting, yet an unmistakably stellar display of beauty & grace. I see so much depth in her, I feel like I must know her, maybe I have seen her. Perhaps, I have even met her. It’s a stare of passionately knowing, a wistful smile that tenderly breaks, to show a sage-like wisdom. The smoky tone in her face & the sultry stance, delicately show her confidence. It gives way to an undeniable competence in her graceful demeanor. She proves to be a pillar of hope that lightens the burden of doubt. It’s a feeling I get when I glance into her deepened eyes. I’m moved by her soft gentle smile, that captivates my transparent thoughts & makes me think all things are possible again! I’m captured by the presence of a beauty in the ashes, as I realize what once was lost, shall now be found. My tears have stained the ashen ground once more, yet they are drops of relief. I realize I am called out of this darkness & into His wonderful light! I’m delightfully amazed, perhaps quietly awakened, to see through these hazy days & open my eyes to a new morning…. a fresh start! Those piercing eyes have broken this hold, that binds my feet from moving forward. It’s released the vicious snare that brings me down to deep despair. What seemed to be impossible, has now become possible; as I freely let go & boldly take hold of the One, who is greater than this. I am able to breathe, I am stronger to live! I am capable of dreaming again, because now I can see, Beauty in these Ashes.

Like a lost memory in pieces of scattered time, I overlook the cloudy shadow of an unforgotten place I once lived. Constant & changing, moving in the bitter wind like a gentle whisper or a silent roar. I faintly remember the wonder filled times, when I felt so much alive. I was so quickly inspired to make my footprint in the ground, take my perfect spot & settle in this beautiful place called Paradise. If only I hadn’t lost that precious moment, that living dream; the distant reality that became a nightmare in the dark. But now I anxiously wait, as I widely stare into my daydreamed thoughts & prepare for the dawn of a new day. Do I even dare, do I even try to dream again & rise quietly from my silent scream? I stagger about in my demise & despair. Is it here that I can really find what I am looking for? Can I still feel something deep inside that will stir my soul again? Can I be more than I am, at this moment in time? I’ve pondered this gracious gift that I’ve undeservingly been given & have chosen to take this imperfect path. I must take this bold risk & say yes to this new found hope, this rescue plan, to see through yesterday’s sorrow into the birth of a new tomorrow. I’m no longer desperate & alone; I have so much to see & behold! Though I feel like I can’t, I know I can be more than I am. My eyes have seen the glory, I have felt His Mighty hand! He can make this something beautiful again! Today I’m peering through a blurred window pane, as I see my broken reflection staring back at me. Like a crackled spotty mirror, I can dimly peek thru this looking glass. Finally, I have seen it! This hope, that yearning, the vision I have, is for “Tomorrow’s Dream”!

Thinking, dreaming, looking out through the hazy mist of what lies ahead. This long journey has been challenging! A difficult fighting battle to survive, as we walk through the remains of what the fire has left. Ashes of grief. It’s a constant underlying struggle to conquer these lonely, lost feelings. Depression tries to capture our wandering thoughts, our indecisive minds & our hurting hearts. Our perfect little world has drastically changed. This unique journey we’re traveling on, is often wearing, though it serves a purpose to our path. We’re Survivors, Sojourners, Pioneers, on a pilgrimage to a different & rediscovered land. We’re in uncharted territory! When I’m walking through the valley of the shadow of sadness, I must remind myself to put one feeble foot in front of the other. I’m trying to be valiantly strong, through this great & terrible loss. It’s part of the process. The good, the bad, the ugly days & wasted nights, conflict our scattered thoughts. In the end, they deepen our inner growth. I must keep turning the ever-changing page, reading a new & different chapter. These tiresome days are surely numbered & this fleeting moment will soon pass. What appears now shall not always be, in this season of our lives. The cold winter nights give birth to a new life in the warm spring days. Yesterday is forever gone, today has faithfully come, but tomorrow is a new day. We are on an adventurous quest, a destined journey, to a hope reborn from the ashes! We shall begin anew as we continue to venture on this journey, if only one step, one moment, one day at a time.

As I struggled with my wandering thoughts, I finally reached a different conclusion. After much deliberation, what seemed to make no sense, made perfect sense to me! I know this must sound odd, but this is what I’ve found. Somehow it doesn’t feel like this is real to me. Quite honestly, I don’t see how it possibly can be. When I take that somber drive throughout our fallen town, it definitely becomes surreal, in a closer distant way. It’s like that classic western when the rancher’s family gasp & weep, as they stare in disbelief. A devastating calamity, much to their dismay, their homestead, land, their life, seemed completely wiped away. In a moment, an instant, all they had is lost. What is left just stands alone, their bedrock tombstone chimney! This witness to their purpose, their life it represents; a landmark souvenir, a tower in the dark. Their lonely desperation, this all familiar scene; I’m watching from the outside but, I’m seeing from within. It hits a chord that grieves my heart yet binds me closer to; connecting to my neighbors, new friends & family. What happens next, I must confess, seems quite remarkable. This next scene is the beauty of why we can’t forget. The hardship of the lone prairie life, shared the trail with these pioneers. Now these same ones came to help, to comfort & rebuild. This family’s towered bedrock, their lonesome chimney stack, no longer just a grave site marker, to display their shattered past. But now much more it has become, a special place, a cornerstone, to their present future cast. That’s the true grit reality I want to focus on. Not the one of disbelief but this, community. Side by side, step by step, I’ve seen the hands of mercy. The gentle arms of love amongst our bravest townspeople, through this loss they rise above. Now I see these landmarks as I drive down crooked lanes, or up the hillside patchy roads, around to center streets. They’re a haunting memorial, of what our precious lives once stood for. Yet what they are today, is not what they shall stay, but what they shall become. I look upon these talking towers as monuments my friend, not just red brick chimney stacks. For now, they tell a different story. A new scene will begin in the bedrock of our home, our town, our memorable Tombstone Chimneys!

What can I say? Thank you! Thank you for allowing me into your world & letting me share a part of mine. I am deeply touched by the overwhelming response that each one of you has graciously expressed, through sharing your precious stories with me. It gives me such a light of hope & encouragement, to know that I am not alone in this struggle. We are not alone in this battle, we are in this fight together. Our memorable town, our remarkable lives, have desperately reached the point of no return. No going back, we have boldly stood & stated a NO to defeat! We have started the difficult process of back breaking clearing, tedious cleaning & unending debris removal. It’s not very pretty, just heartbreaking to watch, our downtrodden town constantly changing on a daily basis. Everyday, as I cautiously drive through the many vacant lots, down the darkened tattered streets, I sense the void of emptiness. I feel the stabbing pains of labor as we go through this transitional stage of rebuilding. I know this all too well. I have been living it as I grieve for each one of you, because I know it’s not only my loss, it’s not just your loss, but it’s our loss. It’s not easy to watch the center of our lives, the heart of our homes & all that we once had, be carefully fallen. So scrupulously scraped & everything reduced & compressed, to be tactfully hauled off to nowhere land. It hurts to see all we’ve worked for & owned, all our creative hard work, reduced to disfigured metal. Just crushed glass & molten ash. But it’s not the end, simply the beginning of a beautiful mess, that will clear the way for a better & brighter tomorrow. It will prepare the freshly filled ground, to lay the building foundation for a new home, a new life, a new town. When I see all the hard hat workers, sign yielding street stoppers, & cleat shod tree climbers; I try to hold back the tears as I crack a smile, wave & say, “thank you for your service”. My mind is silently screaming, my heart is constantly breaking, but somehow deep inside… a voice keeps saying; “Be strong & courageous, you are not alone”. I might be slightly broken, we may be quietly hurting, but that’s okay. We’ll be alright because we’re all doing this together, for a better cause & the greater good of tomorrow. I’m leaving a light on, for “Our Town”.

… are the names I have given to our two beautiful & majestic osprey hawks. I often see them circling high above the pale blue skies, catching the updraft of a wind as they fly around our burnt & tattered property. Like royalty, they confidently perch on the branch of a blackened & broken Digger Pine. They’re gazing out at the dark terrain. I’ve watched them grow since they first left the safety & comfort of their aerie home, a bulky stick piled nest. I’ve often wondered what they must see, perhaps what they might think, as they’re looking down at me & I’m staring back motionless, looking up at them. Do they remember how it was before, as they wander out upon the charred remains? When they soared above the green forest & searched below the bay leaf shrubs & the sage brush floor, for their challenged hunt. Do they remember how they played with the wild untamed creatures of the nite & danced with the gallant sprite gypsies of the day, lurking to find that perfect prey? I watched & waited anxiously, to see their long return. They too had left their homes from the terrorizing flames & ashen smoke, that burned & filled the thick black air. There was no sign of my predator friends, no distant cry that screeched the sky until the time was right & they graced our presence once again. I saw them brush the crisp cool air with their feathered wings, that seemed to touch each other. Their voices sang that joyful scream! I’m blessed to be amongst such magnificent beauty. To see their strength, endurance, long suffering, companionship & perseverance. It’s an encouragement to me, to never give up! When I see them, my hope is restored & my faith is renewed. My spirit is lifted up & my heart becomes full. I’m grateful to see such incredible & awesome beauty, that has risen from the ashes! Samson & Delilah came home again today, perhaps it was not just for me, but maybe it was for you too. Don’t ever give up my friends, we can rise above the ashes too & begin again something new!

Photography by: Cindy Lee Hoover “Tioga Woodlands”

I’ve turned this page, intrigued to know more, I read as His story unfolds:
Mr. Smith takes the silver, though cold to the touch, he hammers the metal, till it bends & it folds. He knows as he works it, it hardens & molds, by the force of his hand, he can shape a new stand. But careful he is, not to quicken the blow, for he must use the heat, to soften the load. He’s careful & sure, with the flame to apply, or the metal will crack & break from the cold. The next day, Mr. Smith uses his raw & pure gold. Though it’s supple & soft, combined with the heat, the silver & gold, he yields a new piece. He creates something colorful, stronger & true, from out of the ashes, comes a beautiful hue. Potter now takes his place at the wheel. He gathers his clay & adds water to feel, the shape of his work, though fragile…its real! To perfect his creation by sealing the clay, he fires the pot at a lower temp blaze. He then cools the vase, paints a colorful glaze, then fires this beauty under flame once again. He places his artwork, so much to behold, on the stand he’d created from silver & gold. He looks at his work, how alike is his life; his struggles seemed hard, as his heart had been hurt. Now weary & worn, weak & afraid, he warms himself carefully by the heat of the kiln. He slowly is softened by the words of his friend, “take courage, be strong, together we can!” He thinks to himself, “who am I, just a man?”. But just like the clay, though once only a lump, had become something much more than he’d ever hoped for. The fire had shaped, molded & sealed, what he had made & formed on the wheel. It’s not what we were, not just what we are, but what we will be, what we’re to become. He thinks to himself, the trials of this life, though wearing & hard, shall never define us. They never shall make us, but simply said, they are here to refine us. I put down the book, left a marker in place, I pondered then whispered, “I thank you for this, Mr. Potter Smith”.

Painting by: Jim Peppler

They say you never forget your first love. That first kiss, like an impressionable moment that exists in time immemorial. I’d have to say, I definitely agree. We tend to remember those tender moments & awestruck feelings of emotion, that captured our hearts & deepened our souls. This is how I felt about Paradise. That first time I discovered our quaint little town. What was it that stole our hearts & planted our feet into solid ground? We finally could gratefully say, “we are home”! Was it the tall Digger Pines with the sharp pointed cones, or the scrubby green Oakes? How they nestled the noisy blue jays & fed those busy bodied squirrels! Maybe it was those grand black Oakes, where Rocky Raccoon & his bandito brothers played. Chasing up & down the trees, we spotted their beady bright eyes, hiding behind the thick crackled bark. Bambi would visit with her spotted friend Thumper and eat all those new blossomed roses, that sprung us into the new season of Spring. Daffodils, lilies, lilacs and more, graced their beauty over the hillside & lined the creeks & river bed shores. We danced through the night sipping wine under the light of the Summer moon; listening to the sound of a cooing dove or the hooting of a wise ole’ owl. Who could not fall in love with those hot endless days, as we swam in the sun warmed lake? We walked down the jagged path by the waters that flowed through the old miners flume. It was like heaven…. the newness, the discovery of a hidden treasure that held our hearts & kept us whole. But just like first love, it changes. Unfolding, reshaping & recreating into something less glorious, that seems more like a chore. Aw… at last we’ve come to the crossroads. We dare to push ourselves in the challenge to dig deep to our core & gather the strength to be more than a conqueror, a warrior at best! Our quest lies ahead to finish this race, where we shall replant, remake & recreate. Our journey is long, our destiny hard, a fight to remember what we once had begun. When we ran we worked, we strived to hold on to what we had captured, though perhaps it was not what we captured, but what captured us. It simply was this; our hearts had been smitten like that moment in time, with a kiss we had risen. We thought we’d found it, but now we finally know; what happened was not that we found it, but it had found us. 1st love!

Photography by: Cindy Lee Hoover “The Lotus Pond”

Sometimes I think or don’t think, maybe I just can’t think. I’m going through the motions of what I need to do, don’t wanna do, probably can’t do. It still gets me, or I don’t get it, still can’t get ahold of my new reality. I just don’t feel it somedays, like I’m looking out of a stained glass window, but the colors all seem gray. “I can’t give up!” I say to myself. Deep down inside I feel like it all seems meaningless. A season of mourning through the cloudy days, brings shadows of changes that I don’t want to admit, I don’t want to accept. Yet then I see it, a ray of sunlight breaks through that iridescent glass & I feel the warmth on a cold winter day. Then right before my weary eyes, a red tailed, golden speckled hawk, spreads its magnificent wings. It tilts to wave a grand stand greeting! I gasp for breath as I’m moved by such a display of incredible beauty. In an instant…for just a precious moment, my strength is renewed. My hope is restored & I accept this sign as a gift from God. I can’t change the outcome of what has been, but I can change my perspective of what will be. I want to see the everyday blessings before me, because these will bring hope & purpose through these disconnected days. A beautiful sunrise that wakes my morning day, as I watch the simple pleasures of life unfold through nature, music, a smile from a stranger, or a kiss from a loved one. This I know! I can… more than that, I need to abide, under the shadow of His wings. This is where I will find shelter & rest through these restless troubled times.