Finding our way to The Way one situation at a time. I don't know how great it will be, but I expect it will be interesting, and I look forward to it going on past all reason because wonder is just that way. Are you coming or not?
Cherry Blossoms 04-03-2013 Oil Paint Rendered — Indian Land, South Carolina
After Ed’s Death
By Jim Dollar
Ah, the Ache!
It is so important
to not outlive the ache!
I would raise a toast to Ed,
if I had a Mimosa in hand:
"Here's to the Ache!
And to what it takes
to embrace the Ache--
and to keep it alive within!"
There are people scattered throughout a month, say,
who I glimpse peripherally,
or from behind,
and think for an unthinking moment,
it is Ed I have seen.
And am stopped,
again,
and rejoice at being stopped,
opened,
remembering,
with gratitude and appreciation,
the grace and the blessing,
and the honor
to ache,
and, in aching,
to participate
in the life of that
which does not die!
I'm retired, and still finding my way--but now, I don't have to pretend that I know what I'm doing.
I retired after 40.5 years as a minister in the Presbyterian Church USA, serving churches in Louisiana, Mississippi and North Carolina. I graduated from Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, in Austin, Texas, and Northwestern State University in Natchitoches, Louisiana. My wife, Judy, and I have three daughters and five granddaughters within about twenty minutes from where we live--and are enjoying our retirement as much as we have ever enjoyed anything.
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Looking through my Nana’s Azusa Women’s Club Cookbook from circa 1932 – Battered, torn pages, cover lost to time, recipes and notes in her remembered handwriting jotted throughout, cooking stains on many pages – as I paged through I saw names like Mrs. Vern Heth, the lady up the block from my grandmother who I met in 1955 when I was 8 years old who made such delicious cobblers. Saw many other names that were like old friends to me, even though I only heard their names mentioned over the years by Nana. The poignant imaginings of how many meals were made using these recipes brought tears to my eyes. I even thought fancifully that just my remembering my grandmother and recognizing the names of her friends may have brought them back to life in that moment of my reverie. Such a luminous (numinous?) experience.
It is a gift beyond wonder to be so graced by “invisible hands,” still “with us” even yet, even so, even now. This is to touch the immortal that resides “right there” always, even though some days it seems light years away. But at the right moment, “in the fullness of time,” there it is “right there,” as always, as a reminder that we are not as alone as we may feel like we are. Invisible presences are only an old cookbook away. And Leonard Cohen might say, “Hallelujah!”
Jim Dollar's Photography and Philosophy 
Amen! God bless Ed and all our beloved departed 💕
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Looking through my Nana’s Azusa Women’s Club Cookbook from circa 1932 – Battered, torn pages, cover lost to time, recipes and notes in her remembered handwriting jotted throughout, cooking stains on many pages – as I paged through I saw names like Mrs. Vern Heth, the lady up the block from my grandmother who I met in 1955 when I was 8 years old who made such delicious cobblers. Saw many other names that were like old friends to me, even though I only heard their names mentioned over the years by Nana. The poignant imaginings of how many meals were made using these recipes brought tears to my eyes. I even thought fancifully that just my remembering my grandmother and recognizing the names of her friends may have brought them back to life in that moment of my reverie. Such a luminous (numinous?) experience.
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It is a gift beyond wonder to be so graced by “invisible hands,” still “with us” even yet, even so, even now. This is to touch the immortal that resides “right there” always, even though some days it seems light years away. But at the right moment, “in the fullness of time,” there it is “right there,” as always, as a reminder that we are not as alone as we may feel like we are. Invisible presences are only an old cookbook away. And Leonard Cohen might say, “Hallelujah!”
LikeLiked by 1 person