I hesitate to call the back side of our property a backyard. The image doesn’t work. The backyards of my past were enclosed spaces with grass that needed to be mowed regularly by a gas-powered push mower.

This is a little piece and slice of paradise along the shores of the Big Lake, just down a dune. There is a thousand gallon pond with a waterfall on the east side containing goldfish that have lived in the pond from the beginning of the pond, ten years. The water is circulated with a pump requiring a miniscule amount of electricity.

The pond is surrounded along the back and sides by cedar, white pine and birch trees. Along the sides and front are various seasonal flowers and ferns.

On the west side of the property are ferns, red pines, white pines and Norway Spruce trees. There is an open space in the middle which is filling in with ground cover and flowers. It is called the Pine Grove.

None of this property needs to be mowed. Our front yard only requires cutting once a year because it is covered with dune grass.  Our property reflects the dune area in which it resides. A neighbor who has an immaculately manicured yard of what we have come to know as regular grass which is mowed twice a week by a landscaping company using riding mowers, once asked facetiously how our weeds were doing.

My wife and I love to sit around the pond. There are three sitting areas — two on the west side of the pond and one on the east side which is accessible along the east side and over a stone bridge from the west side.

We are now discouraged from sitting around the pond by the presence of mosquitoes — hordes and hordes, swarms upon swarms of mosquitoes. I wondered if it were just our property but found out that Southwest Michigan has become a mosquito haven.

I told an environmentally aware neighbor that we probably will all die of Malaria. He didn’t laugh.

To say that God exists, in its literal
interpretation, means that at some
time God did not exist, because that
is what exist means — here now, not then.

To say that God does not exist,
taken metaphorically, means that
God is beyond not existing —

kind of like two negatives making a positive.

Theologians tried that but didn’t explain it very
well and it certainly didn’t go over very well
to the literal mindset — the place where most
of us live most of the time, unfortunately,
if for no other reason than it’s kind of boring.

Some said God is dead. Really poor choice of words.
It has some shock value but shock leads to fear and
fear to anger and…well, we know the history of literal
interpretations.

They could have said something like “The old, literal,
tribal god used by factions to their own
own ends which usually end in violence — this
literal god is dead. However, the mysterious,
metaphorical Formless Presence is being revealed
especially to those of us in university divinity
schools.”

They would have been lucky to make it out-of-town alive.

*idea from a meditation by Frederick Buechner
and the phrase “Formless Presence” was used by
Richard Rohr in a meditation

It is said that poetry
is autobiographical.
Do I use humor because
I’m so laughable?
Sometimes.

He’s more than old enough now
to know better than to continue
tilting at windmills. People
don’t ever want to be told

anything, however directly
or indirectly, harshly or
sweetly, it is presented
— even posed as a question

for consideration. They
are always right, always,
and to have that questioned
is beyond verboten, absolutely

without a doubt. It is simply
an opportunity for Newton’s
Third Law of Motion — vehement
objections and fingers wagging

back in his direction. And so
we just smile at each other and
make nasty, behind the back,
attacks. Better to live in false

community and pseudo peace, so
his advice to himself is to
desist and cease and live in
his own separate peace and give

his emotions, spirit and body
a little rest, at the very least.
Perhaps he should join a monastery,
and like Merton, send missives

from the hermitage like “Confessions
of a Guilty Bystander,” and have
a notion to chant a Gregorian chant .

His wife might second that emotion.

Three retired minister friends
sat discussing difficulties in
the lives of their children —

three in their early fifties,
one in his late forties. You
could see the strain on the

friends’ faces and hear the
fear and vulnerability in
their voices. One remarked

that they all used the word
“kid” when referring to those
post middle-age people. They

paused, reflected and then
chuckled in a moment of blessed
comic relief. Those post middle-

age persons would never use
the word “kid” in reference
to themselves but they would

use the word “kid” in refer-
ence to their children now
and when they discuss the

troubles of those children
when those children are post
middle-age persons and for

years and years afterward
for as long as those parents
are alive and kicking.

Artist wife Chris McKinley Dahl’s mixed media sculpture “Esther Williams and Friends” won second place in the juried fall show of the Holland Friends of Art at the Holland Area Arts Council, Holland, MI!  Congratulations, Chris!

He endured the pomposity
for just so long and then
asked, “Have you had a bowel
movement today?” The pompous
person reeled back in shock,
sputtering, “What did you say!”
He said, “I just wanted to
level the playing field. I
could have recited for you
one of my mother’s favorite
scatological poems, which
starts out, ‘Here I sit broken
hearted; came to shit….’ but
I thought that would have been
a bit crude for your sensitive,
sophisticated ears; still, it’s
kind of a catchy rhyme. Be my
guest at finishing the poem for
yourself, if you’d like. I’m
sure you know it.”

Do you feel like you are on the losing 
     side of every issue — human rights for all, 
justice for all, inclusivity, non-violent action, 
     peace, environmentalism, you name it? You are. 
Does it get frustrating? It does. Do you get 
     tired? Of course. Do you lose heart? Sometimes. 
Does it seem like things are getting worse? Yes. 
     Will you win? Ask the martyrs and prophets. 
Ask the Buddha. Ask Lao Tzu. Ask Jesus. Will 
     you save the world? No, not by yourself and not 
in your lifetime. What do you face? Principalities 
     and powers. Are you a principality or power? No, 
not those. Is the fight right? Yes. Will you stay 
     the course? Yes. Why? Because all that is asked 
is faithfulness and you are granted an eternal 
     abundance of that.

The wind blew through trees,
sound of drum brush on the drums —
shush, shush — quietly.

He muttered
and then went mute.
He sat in the
meditative silence.
In the distance
he heard a flute
playing plaintively,
sadly, hopefully
for all those
who have tasted
of bitter fruit —
honoring them
for their suffering.
Then he quietly
took a knee
for racial and
gender justice
and harmony.
He said a prayer
and then stood
and joined
the march for
peace and
tranquility.