Mountain Stream

Mountain Stream      3-31-2012

By John W. Vander Velden

Flowing swiftly, the crystalline water sparkling, dances among stones large and small, racing headlong through the narrow valley, the land rising steeply on either side.  Great rocks of granite, stacked they seemed, rise skyward.  Thousands of trees, their leaves fresh and new, the green of spring, covered the mountainside.  Growing from any cleft large or small that offered foothold.  Morning’s sun, filtered, illuminated the dogwoods.  The white blossoms hanging over the swiftly flowing water that seems alive as it rushes downward, careening into boulders, leaping off small waterfalls, thundering as it crashed down upon itself, winding left and right and out of sight.  The roar filling the valley certainly heard among the mountain tops.  Glass clear, cold water racing between moss covered stone, its source high above, destination unknown.  Sunlight reflected from the ever changing mirrors of water’s surface, flashing white patterns changing yet understood in a primal way.  

No need to explain.  Only to absorb the beauty alive before my eyes, to feel the life, the thunderous roar that trembled my ribs and the dampness of mist rising from tumbling waters, to smell the freshness of blossoms, pine’s needles, new leaves but most of all the scent of raging waters.  Standing silently at water’s edge I absorb it all.  

Too seldom I find myself in these places.  Too seldom I force myself to escape what others call the real world to come to a world that is real!  Only moments spent…important moments…vital!  Perceptions shaped…priorities formed…value realized.  So much can be seen…felt…learned…in the time spent along a mountain stream.

  (261 Words)

More Than Numbers

More Than Numbers                           4-16-2013

By John W. Vander Velden

 

176 injured, 3 dead, an 8 year old lost.  They are more than numbers.  They are more than names…more than faces plastered on the front page.  They are more than just the newest casualties.  They are people…people…with hopes and aspirations…  People that are part of families…they are parents…and children…all affected…some never to return to those they loved.  To families with dreams broken and hearts shattered.  Their loss leaves our world a little dimmer and future’s possibilities lessened.

How do we respond, with rage? It is only natural.  But to do so gives the monsters their victory.  Is not fear and anger their goal.  Do they not use fear to propel their agenda, and hate fuels the fire these villains hope to ignite. We cannot hide…for to cower gives away the upper hand.  Today is the beginning of all the tomorrows that come.  Let us stand firm in what is true…and in that truth find courage to face the tomorrows. 

As we face the future, as we face a battle between what is good and those that attempt to dismantle…as we wonder at the insanity…and wonder whether light or dark shall prevail…let us not lose sight of the goodness that surrounds.  Too easily the vile steal the spotlight.  Too easily pain’s dark clouds hide the rainbows of our world’s wondrous possibilities.  Is it wrong to share tears with the families of the fallen?  I say no…we must care.  To weep for the innocents right and true.  To pray for the victims…their families…their friends.  To pray for the first responders…showing great courage as they faced the carnage.  And yes, to pray for the perpetrators…that they realize the wrong they have dealt…that understand that cruelty solves nothing…that this cowardly act should never have been done.  That such deeds are not a beginning but a foolish end, accomplishing nothing.

Let us not forget the foundation stones on which our country was built.  The things on which we stand.  Surely we should hope for justice…but justice does not require vengeance.  For vengeance’s rewards are short lived and oft bitter upon the tongue.  

As we move to the future…as days turn to months…months to years…we must remember April 15^th…remember Boston.  That place…that date will be among others as we remember… 911…Pearl Harbor…Oklahoma City…Waco…and all those dark times and places…Let us never forget they were more than numbers.

What Do You Know?

What Do You Know?                 1-30-2013

 

 

Many years ago there was a moment when a business acquaintance asked me a question.  The young man was merely making conversation when he asked, “What do you know, for sure.”  I gave what I felt was a clever come back, “Not much really…but I know a lot of things…maybe…!” 

The truth of that statement has haunted me for years.  What do we know…for sure?  What are the absolute truths we carry with us each day?   So much we know has been taught to us.  We know many facts because someone told us.  I for one have never seen Mount Everest…I believe it is the tallest mountain in the world.  Yet I will never go to Napal with a tape measure and determine for myself just how tall that mountain truly is.  We have been told it is tall and take that as fact…verbatim.  But what if that and thousands of other bits of information are fabricated gibberish…How would you and I know?  There remains the rub…all the things I know…maybe!

But that’s alright.  Humanity shares much information, and we consider it truth until something proves it is not.  It is enough to know that there are seven time zones in Russia, that Australia is in the Southern Hemisphere and Madagascar has many species found nowhere else.  That the Nile flows north and the Mississippi begins in Minnesota.  And that there are millions of facts that fill libraries and attempt to overfill our minds…That’s alright!

But that is not what the question asks.  It asks about the for sure part.  “What do you know…for sure?”  Few take the time to consider that question.  And I expect fewer have taken the time to come up with an answer…but I have.  The answers I have assembled may not be the answer that fits you.  But the things I know for sure are:  That water is wet, the sky is blue and my parents loved me…that there is a God in Heaven and Jesus has the power to save me from myself.  And when push comes to shove there is little else that matters!

What do you know for sure? 

(369 Words)

 

Dawn

Dawn                     1-25-2012

By John W. Vander Velden

 

Slowly the black abandons, indigo replaces, stars fade, glorious night ending, the first signs of its replacement above the eastern horizon.  Colors brewing faintly, refusing to be denied.  The stars waning, withdrawn from the heavens.  Only the morning star remains, bright diamond of the east, rebelling, a bold last stand against the new color perhaps…or to shine its proclamation of the new light yet hidden.  The east now aflame, deep red-orange forcing the violet and indigo to retreat.  The colors marching upward…brighter…stronger…the orange reaching skyward…the sky ablaze.  Soon night’s shadows fade, the night sky fleeing, the battle lost.  The whole world silent as, breathless it awaits the brilliant orbs victorious return.  An orange sliver sheers through the horizon’s bond, the disk now released from night’s prison…bright…triumphant…a new day…the dawn!!!

 

(136 Words)

The Blank Page

The Blank Page                                 3-7-2012

 

Troubled I face the blank page, my palette yearning to be filled.  The very emptiness a barrier.  For I must fill not with colors of water’s pigment or brush marks in oil, but with letters linked carefully…words.  Times when mind driven, the words come quickly riding the passion of thoughts clear.  Other times slowly they flow as the feelings must grow…mature…clarity not yet fully realized.  The words themselves adding to the life and the concepts.  Too often the words escape from the dark places where pain hides.  Places of past hurts and future fears.  Those words better saved for another page…that blankness would soon disappear as letters tripping and stumbling race for light and life.  Now I face the blank page wishing to cover with words of puppy dogs and sunny afternoons…of joys and victories…of laughter and best times.  Lifting myself, not easily done, yet a task worthy.  The beginning most difficult, courage and determination required.    Having something to say would make the page grow smaller.  But what value can I share on this blank page.  What bit of sunshine, have I to give…taught perhaps by life’s professors…which may brighten another.  I face a blank page…and wonder.  Out of the fog a single word forms, a title perhaps…but more…an idea.  One line complete…others will follow.  Soon fingers knead language as the idea springs forth with its own life.  The lines, brother after brother, march downward, the blankness slowly replaced.  Words, the seeds, shape a notion as slowly it grows.  Finished, not certain of satisfaction.  It will for others to determine whether what is finished is better than just another blank page.

 

(271 Words)

 

"E"

“E”                       3-19-2013

By John W. Vander Velden

The wind bit Paul’s exposed flesh.  His face took the brunt, as he walked with his hands thrust deep within his jacket’s pocket.  Turning up his collar had not helped much.  A stocking hat would have been nice, but for crying out loud it was supposed to be spring.  And for that matter the car should have taken him home.  How could he know that the fuel would run out the instant the needle touched the “E”.  Paul had heard so many stories of people driving hundreds…well maybe twenty miles all while they watched the gauge plummet so far beneath the lowest dot, resting upon the peg until their car reached a station selling cheap gas.  No one ever ran out of gas.  It just didn’t happen.  But knowing his luck, Paul shouldn’t have been surprised.  To make matters worse…if they could be worse…he had found himself at the side of some country road in the middle of nowhere…if nowhere had a middle.  Paul had politely knocked on the door of the first house he reached.  The lady there was no help what-so-ever.  She wouldn’t even open the door.  What was this world coming to?  Her voice wasn’t too clear as he listened at the door.  Something about “go way” or “not today”.  When Paul, certain the lady of the house had been unable to hear of his problems, began shouting.  That resulted in “please don’t hurt me” and “If you don’t leave I’ll call the police.”  Sheesh, who calls them police these days.  That was nearly forty minutes ago.  It was still light then…well sorta’.  Maybe he should have let her call the police.  Paul felt certain that cop cars had heaters and right now he could use some heat. 

So Paul walked on certain he was the unluckiest kid in Donner County.  Just as he decided the situation could be worse…after all it could be raining…it began raining…hard.  Now this was ridiculous.  Shortly after turning onto his own road, only two miles remained, more or less, headlights came from behind.  The old dark colored pickup pulled alongside.  Paul looked down as the man rolled down the window and shouted. “Get in.”  Paul didn’t argue.  “What happened?”  His father asked. 

“Car trouble.”  Paul’s answer.

“What broke?”

“The gas gauge….”

(388 Words)  

The Old Church

The Old Church

By John W. Vander Velden                          

 

 

Once proud on the corner, the monument of gray stone stands abandoned.  Now silent, how many years its great bell called, echoing throughout the town.  Long ago built with sweat and pride…long ago the center of many lives…long ago a sign of God’s presence…long ago….  Only the old remember; their eyes tear at the sight.  Scrappers have stolen the brass from her doors.  Vandals have broken the stately window of glass stained.  Stone has fallen from high up her walls.  Surely the roof no longer seals storms pounding rains.  Yet within perhaps something remains…something of the dignity…of the honor…of the truth.  Perhaps the scent of wax yet can be found among the dust and cobwebs in that place where so many lives began and others sent homeward.  The empty shell stands lonely, crumbling; the end of old dreams for God’s glory now in slow decay.  Most scarcely notice, moving past in life’s crush.  Many do not care…an eyesore, nothing more.  But to others there is nothing sadder than the old church.

 

(179 Words)